Defining the Past

A friend of mine recently told me about coming out of a tough period in her life, how it affected her, how it defined her. She went on to talk about moving on from it, and when that difficult period became merely a part of her past, not who she was. This really got me thinking.

Does the past define us? Does my past dictate who I am, who I will become? I feel like I have for the most part led a fairly typical life, not easy per se, but not terribly hard either. I've had my fair share of bumps and bruises, mostly emotional, but I also have a loving and nurturing family who have sheltered and protected me from the worst life could throw at me. About three years ago, however, I entered a period in my life unlike any I had ever experienced. No amount of love or nurturing from my family could have protected me from this, and as much as their support means to me, in the darkest times, I felt alone.

I never knew what it would feel like to wish for death, to hate living even more than the thought of leaving life unfinished. I never would have ended my life-but I thought of my life ending. I don't think I have ever cried that much before, spent so much time obsessing about how my life could be better, wishing and wanting to run away. I have never been that weak, nor have I ever been that strong. Because through it all, I kept living.

Up until recently I blamed this difficult time on a single bad relationship. I threw darts at mental dart board with that person's face on it as I rolled the thoughts of all the hurt I experienced over and over in my mind. I replayed hurtful things that were said to me to keep me strong when I might cave and forgive this person, when I was tempted to renew the friendship. And I have caved. Oh, have I caved. Until now.

It is only recently that I feel like I have surfaced from the depths of that time. I can almost feel my head breaking the surface of the water, and with relief feel my lungs dragging in a fresh breath of desperately needed air. And now I can look at my recent past with a little more critical an eye. I can see the mistakes I made, and some truths I have learned. I can think about the good times with a smile, and think about the bad times without crying or letting them make me feel like I am less of a person. I have come to terms with the fact that others may not see why this all hit me so hard, how it affected me, and I'm okay with that. I've learned that I don't need others to value my experiences for those experiences to be valuable.

So, does my past define me? Like my friend was, am I currently defined by the things I have experienced, things done to me, things I have done? I would love to say that I'm not, but that wouldn't be true. It's not true because my past is a part of me. It colors how I see things, how I view experiences, and how long it takes me to trust people. It changed me, but that change was, in a lot of ways, good. I don't know that I would willingly experience that time again, but I know that God had a reason for it, and I don't want that to go to waste. To deny these experiences affected me at all would be to deny their purpose. I'm not willing to do that.

I am not my past, but I lived it. And survived.