The past shapes us but it doesn't have to define us.

The further I get from childhood the more I realize how dysfunctional it was. This realization has been something that I've been mulling over a lot lately in both my waking and sleeping hours.

The other day I was complaining about how jumpy I was at work. I got to thinking about it and why I'm so easily startled. I think that it started when I was young and has continued to be reinforced by life circumstances. But I wanted to get to its source, so I feel like I have to go back to the beginning.

Growing up, my (step)dad was not particularly kind to me. That's putting it lightly. I'm not really interested in rehashing ALL of what that means, because I don't really believe it serves any particular purpose. For the purpose of this argument, I'm trying to draw the connection between my jumpiness as an adult to my dad's actions when I was a kid. He used to take some sort of sick pleasure in sneaking up on me and startling me. He found it funny. Because I think he knew how afraid I was of him, I think that it was cruel. It's like he enjoyed seeing the fear and uncertainty in my eyes. When I think too deeply about it, it chills my blood. I know that it left me feeling really insecure growing up.

Not only was I insecure as a child, but I was also deeply ashamed about who I was. Let me back up a little bit to give you the backdrop to that statement. When I came home today, I found a bag of childhood items on my dresser. In it, I found a dove pin. Initially, I was happy to see it again, because I always loved that pin. Then, I remembered what I had to wear that pin for: to pin a laminated piece of paper to my underwear. The piece of paper read, "Humility." My dad felt that I had issues with arrogance and needed to be humble. As punishment, he told me that I had to pin that paper to my underwear to remind me to be more humble. Even writing this out, it seems unbelievable that it was something I had to do. In hindsight, I think his only goal was humiliation, not humility. And it worked, because I not only felt ashamed but also confused.

If I sit here long enough, I'm sure I could come up with more instances of his cruelty, but what would be the purpose? It seems that that could only lead to bitterness and poison within my own heart. Ultimately, I find it to be very unfair to myself to relive something that was awful the first time around. Why would I punish myself for someone else's crime?!

I was talking to a friend today about how every kid deserves to be lavished with hugs, kisses, the whole nine yards and that I envision myself adopting kids one day. I'm not sure how I feel about having kids of my own considering how many kids there already are that are in need of a good home. But all of that to say, my desire to love on as many kids as much as I can is because I don't feel like I got that for the most part.

As we all know, little girls want to be told how beautiful they are and how much they matter. That we are someone worth fighting for! If I could help it, I would NEVER want another girl to doubt how beautiful she is or how much she matters. I know that this is the reason why I am so passionate about working with children (particularly, girls) and why that was my concentration in grad school. NO child should be made to feel the way that I felt growing up.

Now, don't think that all of life was "gloom and doom." Obviously, I survived and have come out the other side. For the most part, I would say that I've done fairly well in spite of some of my dysfunctional childhood. 

I have to be honest, though, it has not been by my own strength or wisdom that I made it through in one piece. I definitely felt a strong sense of God's presence in my life since I was very young. Through difficult times in my childhood, I felt like God kept whispering to me, "This is not my desire for you. It wasn't supposed to be like this."

There is redemption in my story, so all is not without hope! When I was taking a shower this morning (where many-a-good conversation with God has taken place), I felt God say, "Give me the pain of your past. You don't need to carry it around anymore." Sometimes I think that I carry around the pain of my past as something to hold on to. As if it justifies my desire to not be as forgiving as I should be. As if I afraid of letting go of the "comfort" of those painful memories. It's odd how being in pain can become "normal" when that's all we've ever known.

I know that God has been plans for me, but that I cannot walk in my destiny if I won't allow myself to let go of the past and walk in the unknown. I've known pain. I've known heartbreak. I've known fear. But God, in his infinite goodness, desires for all of us to know the boundless limits of his love. A love that heals. Yes, the past shapes us, but it doesn't have to define us.

We have to decide what will define us. I REFUSE to be defined by the shitty childhood that I had. I refuse. I wish to be defined by the love of God that flows through me. The cycle of abuse has to end. It has to and will end with me. The kind of legacy I'd like to leave in this life is one of love and compassion. Obviously, I am not perfect, but I'll be damned if I don't try my hardest to be more like my Heavenly Father than my earthly father. 

At the end of the day, I think that our resolutions about who we want to be shapes who we become. Will we let life circumstances embitter us or will we find a way to use those negative experiences for good? Will we harness the power of our stories for the benefit of those in our lives and the rest of humankind?

Martin Luther King Jr. said it best:

"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that." 

Here's to letting go of hate and holding on to love!