My daughter has expanded her cinematic horizons beyond four Miyazaki films. Due to her current reading material, Harry Potter has become fascinating. Thus there is a lot of effort to internalize the mechanics of Harry Potter, why things are the way they are, the reasons for stuff happening, etc.

Yesterday my daughter asked me if my parents were like the Dursleys and if her aunt was like Dudley.

I deflected and said that the Dursleys were actively mean to Harry Potter, while my parents weren't actively mean to me and that yeah, things weren't great but my parents did the best they could. I talked to my wife about it later; she argued that from all my stories, my parents were the Dursleys and she thought I was giving them entirely too much credit. While there's no obvious substance abuse problem amongst the Dursleys she figured that yeah, actually, they were a pretty apt model for a 7-year-old to incorporate into her cosmology.

We're at a ski lodge in Alaska. there was supposed to be a conference tomorrow through Sunday. it got cancelled last Monday so we said "screw it" and are spending a week at a ski lodge. I texted my physical therapist "I want you to imagine the hilarity of my physique attempting downhill skiing" and she texted back "I know I shouldn't, but I can't stop laughing." Every atrophied muscle I've neglected for 45 years because of my fucked up gait forms the basis of "skiing." It could be worse - I've been doing yoga for two years and physical therapy for like a year and a half - but when "slowing down" and "stopping" require you to point your toes inward, and the rest angle between your feet is 50 degrees, there's some contortion necessary in order to reach normal human baseline. Even when I'm doing my best "I'm twisting my leg so that my toes are forward" walk I'm still duck-footed a good 20 degrees.

So I'm processing some resentment right now. My leg has always pointed that way and nobody ever did a thing about it. I didn't so much as get a checkup from 4 to 12 or so. They pulled me aside for scoliosis screening in 5th grade and sent a note home informing my parents that I desperately needed a workup and nothing ever happened. But then, as my wife pointed out, they dealt with my 2nd grade trichotillomania by threatening to murder me if I ever pulled my hair again so my untreated 50 degree leg is par for the course.

But then, my wife also pointed out that statistically I should be dead. I should have a substance abuse disorder and a criminal record at minimum. Every now and then I'm reminded that I'm a survivor, I've exceeded beyond the wildest expectations of everyone except myself and that I should maybe beat myself up less.

I'ma call my insurance and say "my leg is bent fifty fucking degrees and it's time to fix it. What order to I need to tick the boxes to make you fuckers pay for it." 'cuz I can tell skiing would be fun if I had the kinematics for it, I'll be better able to run if I can bump out of "halfway between broken and fixed" and fucking hell I shouldn't feel goddamn guilty for going on a vacation 'cuz this is my fourth in twenty fucking years NORMAL PEOPLE DO THIS SHIT.