Write your own history

I have a number of people in and out of my life that blame the past for everything that goes wrong in their lives, and I must say I find that a bit lame and retrogressive. 

"It's not my fault that I turned out this way, I was raised in a dysfunctional home." 

"I grew up without love from my parents, that's why I ended up dating older men that abused me." 

"My legs were amputated when I was very young, so I ended up loving guns to defend myself and eventually shot and killed my girlfriend", 

"Blah blah blah!"

Psychologists will say otherwise, but I will argue that it's up to each person to decide which path they want their life to take. People who have habits and beliefs that affect their marriages very negatively, like domestic violence are known to blame it on how they were raised, how their parents neglected them, or how they didn't have role models in their lives. You can't keep singing that song for the rest of your life. 

I am responsible for writing a history that my kids will look back at, and either be very proud or very ashamed of. And I try to make sure I don't normalise nonsense like "men are like children and should be treated as such", or that marriage is hard and women have to be resilient sweet sad wives. What other people believe is their business. We are not other people, we are individuals who make our own rules and try to stick to them,map our own paths for the sake of mutual happiness and so that our kids never have to also be self-destructing or self-effacing because they came from a certain kind of upbringing. I try to make sure my kids will say about me: "Mom didn't take crap from anyone and that's where I learned not to take crap from anyone either". 

I don't think anyone should ever use their upbringing as an excuse. Whether your father was an unrepentant criminal or your mother was a prostitute who was known far and wide, you should strive to better yourself to avoid going down the same road. 

I met this elegant grief-stricken woman at Protea Magistrate's Court waiting for her jailed son's appearance on numerous charges of fraud. She was from Soweto and told me she had been lampooned in the township when she sent him to posh schools because she wanted only the best for him. She thought if she sent him to the township schools he'd just wind up being a drop-out, or worse, a criminal like some of the boys in the area. She said to me, "Wait till you see him. Just one glance at him and you will see that he wasn't raised to spend his time rubbing shoulders with the scum of the universe". And I spotted him when he appeared. He was in a group and I discreetly pointed at the strapping hunk in handcuffs, carrying a plastic bag with clothes and asked her if that was her son and she burst into tears. He was absolutely handsome, a beautiful man that many girls would have loved to take to their mothers. His mom's whole body shook as she sobbed and he waved sadly in her direction. My time was up and I had to go back to work, but I just sat with her and held her hand as she wept. I did not even know her name, but her grief broke my heart. 

When the son's case was postponed, he came over to hug and kiss his mother and repeatedly said, "Don't cry Ma, be strong for me". He also shook my hand, probably because he had seen me support his mother as she cried. After he had left, the woman said, "Maybe if his father had been there, he would have turned out better." I told her I was sure she had done great raising him, and he had made the choice to defraud people. A lot of kids grow up with both their parents around but probably do not get half the love and material support that the errant young man got from his mother. Others have it far worse, but they strive to ensure that their own children never have to suffer the way they did. 

And that's what it boils down to - choices. I choose to be a fighter. I choose not to dwell in the past to my own detriment and that of my offspring, dwell so much in the past to a point where it clouds what vision I have for my future. I choose to make my kids look at me one day with awe in their eyes and say, "Wow!!", not roll their eyes and say,"We couldn't choose our mother, thank God we can choose our friends".