It is becoming more apparent as I get older and as I embark on a new creative journey, that it can take a very long time to come to terms with what has happened to a person to make them the way they are. In fact, I think it is a never ending journey. I am thirty six. I certainly don’t have it all figured out and it’s beginning to dawn on me, only now, that the people I looked up to as a child didn’t have it all figured out either.
I left home at seventeen and I have always told anyone that asked, that my childhood home life was far from ideal. I also had a bumpy ride in my formative romantic relationships. For the most part, I have striven to be happy and I have always believed, on some level, that I deserved to be treated with love and respect – that everyone deserves the same. I have been very proud of myself with regard to how I got over abuse and neglect and moved on. However, in trying to grow as a person, trying to be the best person I can be, I have come to discover my faults. I analyse past behaviors and current reactions and sometimes I am shocked to see that I am not healed. I can overhear a conversation, read a sentence in a book or just wake up on any given morning, after a vivid dream and realize something else about myself. It can be very startling.
I don’t think internal, psychological wounds ever fully heal. They are part of us. We are forever influenced and informed by our experiences. I don’t want to be in pain, nor do I wish pain on anyone else, but I do firmly believe that adversity makes us more appreciative of the good things life has to offer. And surely we cannot fully feel joy without knowing unhappiness .