My coworkers and I were chatting about the time before our current jobs. One of my coworkers had a decidedly "vanilla" upbringing; we noted that despite that (noting also our own interpretations of vanilla), she's not judgmental, and she's very curious, inclusive, well-adjusted and exceptionally likable.Another had a straight and narrow Southern Baptist upbringing, which influenced his choices until early mid-life, when everything shifted. He came out, acquired an addiction and found himself living a wild life - a life no one expected given his character and background.
Until about 12, my earliest childhood years had shades of vanilla, at least from the outside looking in (inside, maybe not so much: I sometimes refer to my family as the "grim Swedes," for their stoic determination and head-in-the-sand approach to conflict or problems; a friend also coined my heritage as "JewLute" - Jewish and Lutheran ancestry resulting in a guilt double-whammy). We were white-bread working class - no major scandals, nothing too exciting, basic needs all met, pretty "ordinary" by conventional standards. I can't say there was a lot of love in the house, but there wasn't a lot of visible conflict, either.
But my coworker's story and that of another brought to mind my own tumultuous teen years, and I can't help but shout out, "there but for the grace..."
Somehow, I made different choices than those of my friends - choices I couldn't have imagined for myself as a teenager. For much of my teen years, I wasn't encouraged, I didn't have good role models - in life, work, or relationships, and I didn't have hope. My losses were already extensive and growing. Dreams and desires? My general take was, "Why bother... " I couldn't see beyond the scope of my immediate reality.
I lost my aunt - essentially my caretaker - at 8, an alcoholic who hid her bottles; my grandfather at 9, and my grandmother at 12. Mom worked, and was emotionally detached. So by the time I turned 13, there wasn't really anyone left for me to be accountable to. I felt angry, scared and alone.
Yet somehow... I made it through, made different choices, never quite stepped off that ledge. My best friend at 14, whose father was both violent and a pedophile, succumbed to endless abuse and addiction, and is now occasionally homeless. A later BFF - inseparable from about 16 - 20 - told me to stay out of her life; by then, she was moving quickly down the road of addiction and prostitution, from which she'd never escape. Countless others followed a path of abuse, addiction, alcoholism... leading to incarceration, dis-ease and dead ends, whether dead-end relationships, jobs... or an early death. Stanley said what many of us thought at the time, "Die young and leave a good looking body." He died at 19 of an overdose. Having no siblings and a mostly absent mother during those years, these kids were my family. And yet, while I was prone to self-abuse, I didn't go where they did. How? Did the stability of those earliest formative years, despite the many shortcomings, make a difference, and keep me just shy of self-destruction?
Conscious or not, we do choose. We make choices based on what's familiar, what's comfortable, and what we believe we deserve. If we believe at our core - largely unconscious until something triggers awareness - that what we deserve is abuse (or that people will leave us, not love us, not help us...), every choice we make will likely support more of the same. And those results can be subtle but profound at the same time.
Despite what I believed about myself, somehow, I got myself through high school, college, found decent jobs and eventually got married (not necessarily in A to Z order, and the marriage was short-lived). I was the first in my known family to go to college (on my dad's side, they were well-educated, but I didn't know them until my early 20s; my dad died at 28 just after I was born).
I did what I thought I was supposed to do based on what I saw "out there." I had so many life lessons to learn; my upbringing gave me street smarts but no practical life skills to thrive in the 'real world.' With no real guidance, I drew from an internal well of resources I didn't know I had, even though at my core, I had a lot of shame and didn't believe I deserved much.
Not any more. As an adult, I had some help along the way - therapists, coaches, friends, even a couple of teachers - but I give myself credit where credit's due. When I unearthed a knotted ball of shame residing deep within me, I saw how it kept me from living fully - and dreaming. And now, thanks to a lot of work and a vivid imagination, that little ball is a pile of ashes. Around that pile lives a fireball that drives me. A little flame was always there; I'm certain now that it kept me from jumping over the proverbial cliff into a place from which I, too, might never escape. I started dreaming again. And now I know I'm deserving of creating and achieving my dreams.
And yes, there but for the grace...
My mom always said I had a guardian angel. I suspect she was right. I'm pretty sure that internal fireball is connected to a universal life force, an energy, that connects us all and guides us, despite our own free will. Each of us has a purpose - whether or not we're ever conscious of what that is. We're here to learn, grow and make a difference - even if that difference is the impact we have on those around us, to help them also learn, grow and make a difference. Or just to have a better day. There but for the grace...
