Memories

“What matters in life is not what happens to you but what you remember and how you remember it.”- Gabriel Garcia Marquez

I spent the first several decades of my life believing I had a very difficult childhood. I don’t remember being a baby. I remember my mother’s story of how I cried and screamed nonstop for weeks. I took it to mean I came into the world screaming and I had been unhappy and angry ever since. I experienced abandonment, criticism, fear and insecurity, as well as a painfully deep feeling of unworthiness.

I have slowly rewritten, re-remembered, and retold my story.

I am a warrior, an adventurer, a healer. I remember my grandparent’s cabin at the base of Mt. Whitney. I remember the dry desert, the smell of sage, and the wonders of The Rock Shop. I remember sleeping on the rock and looking at the stars. I remember campfires and happier times. I replay these images and relish them.

This story is different from the story of being criticized and compared to an older brother I would never measure up to. This story is different than the paralyzing fear of walking in the dark feeling that I would be consumed by the evil behind and all around me.

I have learned not to regret the past nor to shut the door on it.

Tell me a story of joy, of comfort, and of courage.