Sitting here watching my son play with his friends in the neighborhood, I start to think about children and childhood. Are we who we are because of our childhood, because of our past? Does the past dictate our present?
The Others
I remember driving in my parent’s car when I was younger, looking at all the houses flashing by. I would think about the people that may be living inside the buildings. Is there a family with kids inside? Maybe there was more than one family living there? Could there be kids too? Or maybe it was a group of friends sharing the home? Were they happy to be there? What kind of people are they?
I was fascinated with the idea of different people being in the world, living in those homes, living their lives and the overall grandeur of how big the world was. I think back to my childhood friends I would see around my school. How unique each of their lives were. I remember the families that used to live in the homes across from my childhood home. There was a family that had a little boy and a younger girl. The parents seemed nice, but the kids kept to themselves mostly.
In the Past
I remember one time; the kids were older as was my brothers and I, maybe around 10 or 12 years old then. There was a woman that came to our home to speak with me. I have never met her before and found out she was with Social Services. Apparently, they received a call that one of my brother’s was hurting me. This was not true. When the woman came to meet with me, she saw right away that there was no worry. We later found out the little girl across the street was the one that filed the false claim.
I think about this now, wondering what could have been going through her mind to alter her reality in such a way. How does a child, even at a young teenager age, come to believe a reality such as that? There was never any indication between my brother and I. At that time, he was my best friend.
Pieces of the Pie
Is our childhood the driving factor to the adults we are today? Yes and no. The other is the life experience we all face day by day. But that is not all either. The final piece is our own choice to be who we want. The difference, how much of the pie each piece holds. Struggle and loss only can hold on if you allow it to. Absorbing into the pain and sorrow felt through each hurdle can make it hard to face life today.
Being Special
I struggled with my weight all of my life. I was the big girl that was teased constantly. On diets from 3rd grade on. Never felt that I was beautiful or anything special. Today I can look back and still see the attachment I had to anyone that showed any sort of affection to me. Friends that would talk to me and befriend me on campus, I would hang onto. Boys that showed any interest, I would put my heart out immediately. Unfortunately, it came with lost friendships and broken hearts. Wearing your heart on your sleeve in hopes to have someone cherish it as a gift was hard.
Recently, I had a dear friend open my eyes to the fact I still have this struggle. My husband calls me his angel and his world. My son tells me he loves me to the end of the universe and back. But I still cannot accept that I am anything special. My friend told me that I am a beautiful woman. My first thought was to tell them I am not special. Silently absorbing the compliment and wishing for more. Even in my casual clothes, I dress to impress. Nice (not expensive) jeans and tops. I don’t even think I own sweats.
One Day
My life pie is separated by childhood, experience, and choice. Some slices are bigger than others. I know this, because I know I still need to work on myself to accept my choice and see me. The beautiful person in the mirror that everyone talks about her wonderful heart and what she means to them. One day I will accept it. Maybe one day, I will see it.
How big are the slices of your life pie? Does your childhood drive your future? Or is it your personal choice to be the better you now?
With great warmth,
