Outgrowing Childhood Scars

Relationships that happen in childhood years sometimes break a person as they age. A promised toy that could not be delivered, somehow takes on multiple meanings with magnified importance. A longing look at a lover in the presence of a child is seen as a monumental betrayal of family. Long hours at work instead of time spent in the park can be seen as wilfull neglect and indifference.  Then again, it need not be physical or overt, it may be some adult interpretation of a childhood feeling that starts one on a path of blaming parents for adult  life  ills.

Children seem to pick up on the tiniest hint of things gone awry and as they age, the meanings change and deductive reasoning becomes the order of the day. Children attribute failures later in life  to  actions taken  by  parent’s, years passed.

It is said that parents ruin their kid’s lives without even trying but I suspect at some point the damage can be undone. If the first half of our life is ruined by our parents and the second half by our kids, when do we take responsibilities for ourselves?

I found myself blaming my parents for some of my current life ills. After some time I realized my cowardice. The things that pop up when I have several days to think about how much I have not done in my life become extremely important when there is nowhere to go and no real problems to solve. My parents made the choices they were equipped to make and given that they too had parents, blaming them is pointless. My hindsight navigation solves nothing but creates rifts than can truly do harm.

Time uncovers wounds that have merely crusted over but time also heals all wounds. When one has the time and propensity to come up with one act or several strings of seemingly disconnected acts to blame for character or personality flaws, surely that energy should be better spent deciphering a solution to said flaws, or accepting them and moving on. My life right now is my own, my journey and destination are without a doubt my responsibility. I may have had limited control of the forces that brought me from a child to an adult, but this very minute and every minute going forward I can  take control. If time is the healer of all wounds, then time is also the discoverer of old smelly, infected wounds. Pretty soon i’ll be nothing but scars but the scars simply mean all my old wounds have healed. Given time, all scars fade...at least that is what I'm choosing to believe.

Posted on September 6, 2012 .