Lots of family time lately. Makes me twitchy.
I realized a long time ago the only thing I have left in common with these people are genetics, and about eighteen years worth of stimuli we witnessed together. (My impressions and interpretations are my own.)
If I’d ever learned to argue with my sister or talk back to my parents, this probably wouldn’t bother me as much as it does. The only conflict resolution I ever learned was passive-aggression. I’m trying to teach myself aggressive aggression, with mixed results.
At dinner, we somehow got on the topic of homeopathy and acupuncture. The policies of the insurance company my father works for apparently cover them. As treatments. In the 21st century.
“They don’t work,” said I.
“No, the company wouldn’t approve it if there wasn’t something to it,” my father assured me. It didn’t occur to me at the time to tell him there was no reasonable expectation for an insurance company to adhere to any standards of scientific rigour. All I could muster in reply was:
“I’m pretty sure…not.”
“I’ve read some good things about acupuncture.”
“I think people think it works for them.”
“It’s pinching the nerves. It must do something.”
…but acupuncture mapping wasn’t designed along nerves, but arbitrary points believed to accumulate qi, a life-force postulated in antique Chinese medicine. I didn’t think to tell him this at the time.
Nothing more to say. If I wanted to make the post kind of relevant to anyone but me, I could open the floor to discussion of any “alternative” medicines I don’t approve of in the treatment of illness, mental or otherwise. But that could feel a little tacked on.