There's a lot to be said for those little moments of laughter and support that intersperse the pain of reframing my life with a better understanding of my mistreatment.
It's easy to focus on the negative and let it overwhelm you. And at the moment, the bad stuff's easily found. But I'm also adjusting to the realisation that the worst things I experienced weren't my fault. Genuinely. It was all part of a coercive situation I had no control over despite trying my best.
Yesterday, I had a chat with my aunt to fill her in on the many twists and turns since my dad's burial (when we last spoke) as I tried to protect my dad's house. And it was a relief to find - amid the inevitably incredulous reaction - time to laugh at how stupid it all was and point out the transparently obvious motivation with all its requisite double-standards. Because she and my dad's brother can see what's happening. There was also time to chat about other unrelated things too, which was good.
It's the same when I speak to my dad's ex, who messages me regularly to check for progress. Like everyone in my inner circle, she can't believe the extent to which (x) goes, while also being able to believe it perfectly. When I opened up to her about the bigger picture shortly after my dad died and things started kicking off, she was shocked at how we'd been treated, yet relieved to put in the missing jigsaw pieces into place that made sense of why everything had been a battle up until then. But amongst all the psychological drama, we've been able to laugh too, and I'm grateful for that. Because when you break it all down, it's fucking ridiculous. But then it always was.