Familiar and Familial

It's funny, because going home for Thanksgiving really wasn't that bad. In fact, coming back here was really, Really hard. There's definitely something to be said for the familiar, even if the familiar sometimes sucks. (It also helps that Texas/the South is the Promised Land, and so to be Out of California is always a vast improvement. ;-))
I was really, Really nervous about going home. Knots in my stomach, couldn't sleep, the whole nine yards. I've been going through a lot of crap this fall in therapy, and have realized a lot of not-so-good things about my family, and as a result, it seems like every time I talk to my mother on the phone, we end up fighting, I end up crying, or both. So I expected it to be just like that at home. But it wasn't. Why?
I think part of it has to do with the (not-so-good) way I tend to relate to people: they're either all good or all bad, and shades of gray cannot reside within the same person. [This is also known as splitting, a favorite of those with Border Line Personality Disorder. Woohoo.] Thus, when I go home and my mother is kind to me and my father's a jerk, I box them up in those catagories: mother = good, father = bad. This fall I've been boxing them up in precisely the opposite catagories, mother = bad, father = good, and so I think that's part of why going home was so confusing. Why is it so hard for me to synthesize the good and the bad that's in everyone????
I have no idea. But I keep trying, keep struggling, keep crying in Dr. Stacey's office and making desperate hand movments - that I've become quite famous for - in an effort to bring together two things that it seems to me are impossible to conjoin.
I am trying to pursue truth, the truth about me and my family. However, as SimpleKindofMan says, sometimes the truth is hard to get to.