A quick update on fathers and planes: I saw my father yesterday, and as usual he treated me like a doormat.
The difference this time was that I used back up therapist’s technique of preparing myself for it and I almost didn’t expect any different – almost.
He still triggered me and I didn’t quite get to the nurturing part afterwards, but fell back into old patterns of eating myself into oblivion.
I’m trying not to see this as a failure (as I would normally). I made a start. That’s progress. That’s one step more towards healing. Surely that’s all that counts, right?