Sometimes if I’m driving alone and in the area, I will stop here and reflect. This mobile home park is about a half-hour drive from where I currently live. The first memories I can recall were created here.
I don’t stay parked outside for more than a few minutes, but there’s a part of me that stops out of curiosity and wonder.
I sit in silence. I take in the structures that feel so small now that I am an adult. I can hear the screams and other noises that overwhelmed this space. I can smell the overwhelming smell of smoke. I remember the contentious energy that packed each room so tightly and I feel the anger that wound around both of my parents. As my eyes pan up and down the street I see the faces of my friends and other homes I took refuge in.
Other parts of me hold onto hope that one of the times I park here, taking it all in, I will drive away with a new memory. Or maybe, a less varnished glimpse into my first experiences with sexual abuse. Or maybe even a happy memory.
And then I make my way back home.
I drive toward my house and I feel thankful to not be held captive by my reminiscent feelings. I am not sad or taken away from the reality I have grown to love and appreciate so much.
I can’t remember anything new. I don’t see what I’d like to know more about. It might not ever surface and I have to believe that it is better that way; that there is a reason.
I drive away from this place a whole, happy, content, well-adjusted woman, with enough hope in my heart that I can’t help but try to give some away every day I am given the opportunity.
I hold onto what I do know-what *has been revealed to me. I was given enough information and insight in order to heal. Maybe that’s all I am supposed to have.
The gifts I have in my life are more than enough to fuel me to continue on this journey without a focus on when and where my life went wrong.
I am curious but not hyper focused or overwhelmed with obsessive thoughts about my past.
Those are gifts too.
Origins are powerful and vital– but we can’t forget they’re only the base fabric: The beginning of a beautiful tapestry that will be woven into intricate, detailed, diverse stories of strength, resilience, and hope.
Keep going. Focus most on building the new.
Remember–where you come from undoubtedly impacts who you are, but it doesn’t have to be a restraint that dictates who you are becoming.