I used to think that every memory I had about my childhood was “the truth”. For a long time after I reached adulthood I believed that my perception told the story of my family. It did, but the story it told was only my own. It took me a long time to understand how perception is completely different for each person so no two people in any family will remember things the same way. As a parent myself hearing some of the things my own kids believe happened in their childhood, I also realize that children can’t possibly know what’s really going on with their parents, and that helped me see my own parents in a different light. I was just a child so I only remembered my child’s view of life, which was obviously missing so much context that would explain a lot. So now I see my parents more as the complex human beings that they were rather than just the people who created me and provided my reality as a kid. It’s helped me forgive them for the mistakes they made, and it’s replaced some of the anger and resentment I carried with humility as I accept my own humanity too.