Illuminated Human

The other night my wife and I were talking about an instance or two that happened to me when I was a teenager in my Dad’s house that reminded me of a time in my early twenties when I had chose to change the story of my childhood. This happened before I ever knew of such things as spiritual or personal growth. I realized that this was a great example of how a change in my story truly affected me, my life and my overall happiness.

I grew up in a military household with an alcoholic father who was very angry and unhappy with his life. He was not physically abusive per say, but he was emotionally abusive. Fear was always the emotion of the day. Being a military family we moved about every three years or so. My Mom was a loving person but as a Catholic she was unable to consider divorce as an option. She was also afraid.

I couldn’t wait to leave home. My older brother left home six weeks before he was to finish high school; he had been using drugs and between his drug use and my dad’s alcohol abuse, life for him and everyone else at home had become unbearable.

I had been playing trombone in the school band and had found a certain type of refuge in playing music. Band had actually become my life and I planned for it to be my life. Towards the end of my junior year of high school my dad received transfer orders. This was an every three year process for us and for the most part I was used to it, but this time was the worst of all. I had been selected to perform first chair in the All Europe Band but we were scheduled to leave Germany two weeks before the concert. I had also been working as my band director’s aide having opportunities to conduct the band during concerts and performing with numerous choirs as well.

When I arrived at my new school here in the States the positions that I had held in the band in Germany were, needless to say, already taken. The frustration and anger that overtook me was unbearable. I blamed my dad for everything that was happening to me. I lost my musical refuge and life simply sucked. Life at home sucked and there was hardly any reason anymore to care about the music. By Thanksgiving of my senior year I attempted suicide, the following spring I ran away from home briefly. My brother talked me into going home again so I wouldn’t leave my mom alone with dad. Two days after graduation I was gone.

As far as I was concerned I had had a horrible childhood. I would tell people how bad I had it. Woundology was the language at hand. I was attracting people into my life that also had horrible stories to tell about their childhood. It was a time of “poor pitiful me”. The first few years of my adult life were filled with the struggle of trying to really be free of my dad. I went off to college and my band director there became my dad all over again. So I quit school and went to work and my bosses became my dad.

Didn’t I leave you at home? I could have sworn that I had left home and left dad there. But everywhere I went, there he was.

After a few years of running away from the voice in my head I actually started to listen to the stories of the wounded childhoods that my friends were telling me. I didn’t know what it was on that day that got me to realize that my childhood wasn’t anywhere near as horrible as most of the stories I had been hearing. When they would say to me after my story, “well you think that was bad…” my inner attitude started to change. Actually no, comparatively speaking it wasn’t that bad. Not at all. There are people I know who grew up in the darkest of darks.

I started to see that although my childhood wasn’t as full of light as some it was also not as full of dark as some. It was actually fairly gray. I started to see into the light side of my life little by little. I had a mother who showed me a form of caring love that is still with me today. I had the opportunity to travel around the world as a child and see things and places most Americans will never see. I was given an opportunity to spend time with people from other cultures and be influenced by their ways of life. Most importantly of all, my dad taught me what it was like to live in sadness. That lesson helped to lead me out of my personal darkness and to decide the one most important rule of my life today; no matter what always be happy and love what you do.

When I was about twenty I went back home for a visit. I came across my father staring out the living room window with tears in his eyes. He was crying. I had never seen my dad cry before. I went and stood next to him, asked him what was wrong. What he said to me that day brought all the work I had done to revise my childhood story to an ultimate climax. My dad looked me in the eye and said to me, and I quote, “I have not been a very good father, have I?” I was blown away. This man actually had emotion!

I had never been as proud of myself as I was on that day for how I responded to him. I could have taken that opportunity to unleash an unholy hell and fury upon him about how terrible he was, but I didn’t. If this had happened a few years earlier I am sure that I would have.

What I said to him instead was that, it was true, he had not been a very good father; but he had been an excellent provider. I reminded him that we never went hungry or had to wear second hand clothing or live in a place too small or without heat or cooling. My mother never had to work which gave us the opportunity to grow up with a stay at home mom. I also told my dad not to try to make up for it, to go on from here, that I was “ok” with the way things were and how they are right now.

I had never believed until that day that my father loved me. Now I have a different story that I tell of my childhood.

The facts you read at the beginning of this post were simply just that, facts. They were not the story.

The story is that I grew up in a house of love and opportunities. My parents and childhood have greatly influenced my life and I am truly glad to be the man I am today. I owe this all to them and the path of my childhood. It was actually really cool.

I find that people are attached to their suffering and are even willing to identify or define themselves by their negative moments. The retelling of my childhood has had a positive impact on my every day life. This story leaves room for me to be happy and positive in my adult life, and to remember and recount the good days of growing up. It also reminds me to find the light in every situation throughout my life, to give my attention to those aspect in order to maintain a greater leval of happiness and to attract into my life a more positive and uplifting relationship with the world around me.

Tags: change, spirituality, story, world