I've had the idea for this post on my list for quite some time now. I just have never gotten around to writing it until today. I think maybe I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to stretch it out to one thousand words. At this point, I really don't care though.
I use Google Keep quite a bit. It's one of the most intuitive note taking apps I have ever used. Much simpler than Evernote and Microsoft OneNote. Probably not as functional either, but it accomplishes what I need it to.
Sorry, back to the point...
As I grow older, I find it interesting to discover that two people who went through the same experience can see said experience with completely different eyes. I've been pretty candid about the fact that I grew up in a rather strict Christian household.
Certain music wasn't allowed to be played, decks of cards were not allowed in the house, alcohol was never in our house, and various other unimportant things that might shock the average reader.
I mention this because a short time ago I had an interaction on Facebook prompted my thoughts on this post. One of our relatives posted something about how square dancing used to be taught in gym class at the elementary level.
My sister didn't remember that happening. I vaguely remembered learning some of the steps, and our cousin was the one who wrote the original post, so she could remember as well.
My sister made a comment to the effect that if they did make us learn to dance, she is surprised that our parents didn't send a note saying we didn't have to participate because it was dancing.
Now, don't get the wrong idea, it's not like we lived in the town from Footloose, it was just that dancing isn't something we grew up doing. Likely it was absolutely frowned upon in the household my parents grew up in, so it wasn't something we did in our house.
Anyway, my sister reached out to me in a direct message and started going on about how she was surprised that our mom and dad would have allowed us to do square dancing in school. That's when the phrase I used in the title of this post came to me. I typed it to her and that kind of shut down the conversation.
We choose what we hold onto
Like I said, two different childhoods occuring in the same household, yet two completely different views of the experience. The funny thing is, I was the trouble maker, so if the rules were exceptional strict, I was usually the one that was breaking them.
Don't get me wrong, I love my sister dearly. I'll stand up for her and defend her with everything I have, but this is one thing I don't know if we will ever agree on.
We definitely missed out on a lot of experiences as kids, but I think we had pretty great childhoods. We never wanted for anything and the rules that might have seemed oppressive back then have molded and shaped the values that still guide my life today.
Without those guidelines, who knows where I would be.
I don't live to far from my parents, so I try to visit them every couple of weeks or so. Even if it's just to sit with them in church for an hour on Sunday morning. My sister also recently moved back into the state, so I see her and her husband more than I used to as well.
In case you're new, that's @mrsbozz in the picture above, not my sister.
Anyway, occasionally when we get together my dad will start telling stories from when he was a kid. It's interesting because I feel a lot of the stories he tells are bad memories. Things that didn't quite go his way and he almost still seems bitter about them today. My dad isn't really one to live in the past, but sometimes when he is telling a story, I can't help but think:
We choose what we hold onto
It makes me wonder if I only talk about the things I regret when I am telling stories from my past. Am I carrying all the sadness, guilt, and disappointment with me or am I shrugging that off and taking the happy stuff with me instead?
Most likely, it's neither of those. It's probably a fine balance of taking the happy and the sad with you so you can learn and grow along the way.
The problem is, if you let the scale tip too far in the one direction, it can be a pretty miserable existence I would imagine. I think in general these days we have plenty of bitterness in the world. There are far too many people who feel they have been victimized in one way or the other. Some of them are legit for sure, but others... I don't know.
You aren't the victim because you didn't get the flavor of candy you wanted in third grade. You aren't the victim because your neighbor got Castle Grayskull for Christmas and you didn't. You aren't the victim because you wanted never owned a Hypercolor or IOU sweatshirt.
I hope that we can start replacing the bitterness with more joy, and the only one that can do that is you.
We choose what we hold onto
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