I hate the rain.
It rained on me when I was homeless, living on the beach under a rock in an otherwise dry patch of sand.
It rained on me when I had to take the bus to school for two hours, causing the bus driver to operate defensively because people don’t know how to drive in the rain.
Every place I’ve lived with broadband has suffered connection issues during the rain. It will take 45 seconds for the page to load when I publish this.
When it rains, I just want to retreat into a warm place and using video games or other methods to numb my brain.
But I’ve got to get over that. One day, Clover will want to go play in the rain. And while they are all factual, the above reasons aren’t going to help me overcome the traumatic emotional trace in my brain that reacts to the rain.
There is a lesson in that. Hating the rain is one thing, it is easy to overcome in the moment, and is easy to use distractions. But emotional trauma, we built some gnarly walls around that, and they have turrets loaded with distractions. Eventually I am going to have to deal with those, because I want to take Clover out to play in the rain, and I also want to help Clover grow as a person.
Parenting is hard.