Growing up, I was nearly certain that everyone else had a perfect childhood. I could almost guarantee, that I did not know a single person my age who had a more difficult childhood than I often felt like I did. I was raised in a household where hugs were uncommon. The words, “I am proud of you” or “I love you” were never really said. I would love to tell you I got “used to” it…but I just learned to look at things differently than I did when I was a kid. 

When I was in third grade, I watched my teacher’s aide die in our classroom. She had tripped over the back leg of a student’s chair and fallen in our classroom. I will never forget the sight of the blood coming out of her sandy brown hair as she lay motionless, waiting for an ambulance. The EMTs had to carry her down three flights of stairs before they took her to the hospital where she remained on life support for a few days before her family gave up the hopes that she’d regain consciousness. The principal of the school told us she had died that day. It was the same year my grandfather died of a heart attack while fishing near Mexico and our car caught on fire on the interstate. Looking back, I am shocked we hitched a ride with a semi-truck driver from somewhere near the Utah line to our town of Jerome, Idaho. Back in the early 1990s, things were so different. My parents also decided to go their separate ways finally and I was stuck in the line of fire from a toxic divorce. My third-grade year of school was traumatic. It often felt like the death of Mrs. McRoberts was the start of a spiral of traumatic events I would forever wear the scars of.

My point is, I didn’t have the greatest childhood. I was often envious of those who, on the outward side, provided the perception of roses and rainbows. I learned at a young age the motto I live by today – It can always be worse. When I was younger, that motto was a realization more bad things could happen so just shut your mouth. Today, that motto, with the same words, gives me a feeling of hopefulness. It can always be worse – Look around you, somewhere there is someone suffering much deeper than you are. I often tell others, that I know it can be worse so I am not going to complain about the lemon life just handed me, after all, it’s a ripe fruit and I can cook. 

Sure, each one of the traumatic events I faced that fourth year of education, left a scar. Mrs. McRoberts had tripped on the back of a chair because the student was leaning in her seat. She had an aneurysm. It’s still hard for me to this day not to tell even a grown adult not to tip their chairs. I became an EMT, wondering later in life, if there was more available help for my teacher if she would have had a better fate. I can smell and hear a fire almost better than anyone thanks to that engine overheating that summer afternoon. The night the old Longbranch bar in Hawk Springs burned down I had been there that evening and noticed the lights flickering and I could hear the electrical wires popping like popcorn. The state fire marshal explained the fire had started a few feet from the booth I was in. I have trauma. I have scars. This brief snapshot of some parts of my youth I provide as an example of times in my life when I dreamed of the “perfect family”. 

Truth be told, we all have trauma. We all have scars. 

I know some of the trauma others have experienced will always surface my experiences but that only solidifies my perspective of the matter – just because I have had trauma in my life, doesn’t give me the right to behave poorly.

Yes. I said it. There comes a point in time where ultimately an adult must take responsibility for what part he/she has played in the situation. Life is hard. We are all fighting some demon. But that doesn’t give us a signed permission slip to act a fool. 

There is a huge difference between compassion and enabling. I can be compassionate in a way that shows empathy to others or I can enable a person in a way where negative behavior becomes the default behavior. 

Throughout history, we learned the idiom “Boys will be boys” was a great excuse for anyone of the gender to misbehave in a multitude of ways. Men used the – what I call an excuse – to avoid the consequences of their actions and behaviors. 

Why?

Just because we are ________, doesn’t mean we need to fit the bill. 

I leave that blank with intention because so many words can be inserted. 

Just because I am the product of an alcoholic, doesn’t mean I need to be. Just because I have experienced trauma, doesn’t give me an excuse to act poorly. 

There comes a point in time where we have to own our problems and actually focus on making a change. We can’t use them as an excuse to hurt others, break the law or just be an unpleasant jerk.

I have trauma. You have trauma. The decision to be a good person regardless of the lemons life throws is on us. At some point, blaming our current decisions on our past trauma is no longer acceptable.