In the stillness before bed, when one’s mind should be settling down and preparing for rest, a thousand thoughts flood my mind. I see it, I smell it, I feel it. The very thing that seems to cause others to marvel at with me, it’s my very thorn in the flesh… my memory. It’s almost like a circus sideshow attraction when I’m able to recall the most minute details from 30+ years ago, to recall tiny secrets people have shared with me over the years-ripples of their very essence existing in my mind forever. I remember so many things, but most days there are things I wish I could forget. 

My prayer life is often peppered with me praying over things that happened 30+ years ago. I’ve found that even though I go to God with blanket prayers, wishing they would just cover everything so neatly and without inspection, that’s not how healing and tackling forgiveness works. So, I see her face, I feel her hands, I see the wounds, I smell the air, I am just there again and again and again. I work to forgive things I remember and feel accomplished for doing so, only to be met later on with fresh memories of old wounds. A fresh recollection of old words, spoken in the vein of inflicting pain in the moment but yet they echo through the chambers of my heart today afresh and as if they were screamed at me just now in this present moment. Those old words often hurt worse than any physical abuse could, they cut bone, flesh, sinew, and soul deeper than a knife ever could.

 “I wish I never had you.” I can go back to that very day as a very small child, I can smell the turned soil on the farm. I can see myself and her in the driveway, she’s walking back from getting the mail and those words just spill out of her like it was nothing for her to say. But my body absorbs them as if it was hit by a train. And the price I continue to pay is this, it hits me like a train still today. Though, motherhood has placed a new spotlight on these hurtful words. These words cut differently today than they did in the early 1990’s. As a mother hearing those words spill out of her mouth I now know what it means to be a mother and how easy it is to love my own child, I can’t fathom ever saying anything to my child like that. But yet, she did. And so, before I drift off to sleep that most nights takes effort and prayer, I take it to God and lay it down in an act of forgiveness and obedience. 

I wish those words were the only thing she ever did to me, because then laying it down once or twice would be easy. But the price I have paid for a childhood bereft of a loving mother means I have what feels like a limitless vat of things to lay down daily. And when I do lay them down, cheeks hot and red streaked with tears that show I really, truly do want to be done with this remembering business, I am reminded that forgiveness is a daily choice, not just a one time action. Forgiveness is a choice I have to make each day, a grace extended to someone who has never apologized and I don’t know if they ever will. 

But in my choosing to lay this down each day, I’m reminded that while I don’t have all the answers to motherhood and being the best parent possible to the child my husband and I prayed and trusted God for, I have a guiding light of what not to do. And sometimes, knowing what not to do is more illuminating than knowing what to do in the moment. 

Are you struggling with memories that flood in and you feel yourself drawn back to days that have long since passed? Do you find yourself trying to put back together the pieces of yourself that someone else carelessly shattered? If you are struggling with these things, I encourage you to not suffer in silence and alone, find a medical provider or clergy member you trust and begin the work of tackling your trauma and start your healing journey. You are NOT destined to live under the weight of your childhood forever. There is freedom in healing! Since starting my journey towards healing, I’ve been given tools to help me better carry what I deal with, it didn’t change what happened to me, but I am more easily able to deal with the trauma. I also know this burden will eventually become less heavy. 

I issue a reminder to my fellow parents reading this, be ever mindful of what you say and how you say it to your children, your voice becomes their inner dialogue, your words become the story lining the first 18 chapters of their lives (and sometimes even more beyond that) and your actions have long lasting effects. While there has never been a perfect parent, we can be conscious parents who make the decision to apologize when we have a human moment and mess up. Be ever so quick to own your words and actions, before both become a permanent fixture in your child’s mind and body. 

So while the price I have paid for my wounded childhood is high, my child won’t have to face those same costs. And that’s because I’m choosing to invest in myself and create generational healing that shatters generational curses. 

I pray you find the strength to tackle the wounds that hurt you, friends. And whether we have a shared faith or not, I know God loves you and wants to see you healed.