I come from…
…the baby boomer generation. Born in 1954 to a mother that was practically a baby herself, my childhood was shaped by her fears and insecurities. They became my fears and insecurities.
…the early, mid and late sixties, where I learned that important leaders could be a target for hatred that would culminate in murder, that your childhood could be swept out from underneath you in a heartbeat, and men could walk on the moon.
…the seventies, where I learned to deal with death, believe that I was so insignificant that I had to turn myself into something that I wasn’t in order to be loved, became a mother, and started to realize that changes needed to be made because I couldn’t always duck a right hook.
…the eighties, where I started rebelling against the total control that he was trying to crush me with, started realizing that I couldn’t change him but that I could change me, and spent a lot of time in the self help section of the library.
…the nineties, where it finally all ended much more quietly than I ever would have believed, I became a single mother, started rebuilding my life and self-esteem, and became truly happy for the first time.
…and in this last decade, I find that I am lucky to be able to look back and see where I have come from, arriving in 2009 relatively unscathed. I have learned along the way that in order to survive and be happy that you have to be able to forgive — but if total forgiveness is out of the question, I will at least forget as much as I can.