Was That Me ?

Sometimes I look back on my childhood and it is like I am looking at someone else's life. Who was that? I see the pain and know I felt the pain but the memory of its severity diminishes over time. I see the stupid reactions and decisions from that pain and shake my head. I am very grateful that it isn't always sharply on my mind because if it was, I am afraid that I would worry way too much for my daughter and her experiences. 

I recall many nights staying up and fretting over being rejected. Crying for hours over something mean that someone said. Going over a scenario and thinking about whether it was my fault and what I should have done. Feeling so much heartache and regret. Agonizing over confusion and not understanding how people can hurt others so easily. Wanting to give up, over and over. 

The emotional torment spilled into my physical being. My digestion, my skin, my muscles, my everything. I remember a specialist told me that if you continuously carried a bag and added some bricks you would get stronger. But if you kept adding bricks it would get too heavy. The bricks of hurt and regret and embarrassment and shame and unforgiveness would add up. Your body would break down under the stress. He told me to get rid of some bricks. 

Those bricks hurt. And some were hard to let go of because even though they were negative they were earned and they were what I was used to. It's easier to hide and pout and sleep than to step out. But over time, with their release, those bricks have brought me the strength of who I am today. Sometimes I might see myself as that weak, burdened person. But truly looking and being aware of the difference, I know I am much stronger. Much more free.

I am not perfect. Very far from it, actually. But I can socialize. Or be comfortable alone. I can talk about others. Or share about myself. I can truly enjoy the successes of others. I can honestly love people. Unimaginable things at one time. Long ago I thought I was going crazy (which I relived a little postpartum). But, now things are good. Even in their bad moments. Like when I get mad at my husband or do something I know is wrong or try something new and scary or forget a promise. 

I so immeasurably wish I could vividly show people the difference inside. I long to impart in others a sample of the feeling of utter change. I know so many live in pain from their lives. So many feel it will never improve. I wish I could show them it can. I had a counsellor once who I stopped seeing because I had a hard time about an experience I'd had and she told me it would always be there. Yes, my past hasn't changed. But my belief in who I am and what I can do has. And I am not controlled by the past (usually... um, a work in progress). 

Where we come from may require some work. Some figuring out. Some forgiving. Some letting go. Some stepping out of our comfort zone. It may require patience, instruction, and love. It may require trying again and again and again. But it is not an excuse. 

We can't choose what has happened to us, but we can choose what to do with it.

Life has to much ahead for us to stay back there.