Today’s blog post is a little different. I do alot of research and learning about trauma and how it affects our lives. Part of that is the trauma we inherit. This is an excerpt from some writings I’ve been doing about my own story.
People are not actually born to a blank page or clean slate. We are born as a chapter into someone else’s story. Lots of other stories, actually. Parents, grandparents, siblings, all family members and close friends, when we are born, now have a new chapter with our name. Our chapter one comes with a foreword that is the weaving together of all those stories; all their traumas and joys are the foundation of our story. We don’t get to choose our foundation, we get to navigate through it and are then shaped by the navigation. Childhood is a season of testing for trust. Which characters in our story bring so much trauma they are unsafe, and which allow us to explore our own desires outside of the predetermined. It is only in adulthood when we are offered the invitation to make our stories our own. Rewrite the words spoken to us that brought damage, and, repeat the words that brought light. It is in adulthood where, if we are willing, we become the person we were created to be from the beginning. Some people accept this invitation early on and the are named rebellious and hard to deal with, even though their hearts are pure. Some people accept this invitation later and are named as having a mid-life crisis and “losing it”, even though their hearts are also pure. And some, more than I would wish, decide to never find their own story outside of the predetermined. They aren’t sure enough of themselves because for many, the trauma is so deep it is actually cherished and letting it go would dismantle their being. They live in fear that if they allow this dismantling, no one will be there to help rebuild.