Hold On

Barbara Sher says we're all a genius at being ourselves. And that we are talented at what we love. Just recently, I've come to listen to a bunch of Malcolm Gladwell speeches and he says the same thing. He studied a bunch of people with dyslexia and other so called disadvantages and found some people turn these deficits into strengths.

There's something profound going on with all this. That thing that spirals one person into despair can provide a springboard to personal greatness. 

I pay attention to ideas like Adverse Childhood Experience tests and intelligence assessments and try to figure out what that thing is between me and someone else. Why have I managed to build an amazing awesome sense of love within my heart? Why can I pick a loving husband when I came from a family that actively pushed me aside? 

One article on adverse childhood experience suggested that resilience experiences might help an adult child sort through their pain in a different way. I can certainly say that having an absent, yet deeply loving father helped me a lot. Also that the primary abusers, though parental in nature, weren't biologically related to me. 

What if all it takes is a willingness to accept the reality of experience and then a desire to challenge the perception? What if it's all about holding on through the rough patches? 

As a survivor of abuse, some of us develop post traumatic stress. What if, like our personal genius through adversity, PTSD is also a genius strategy? Maybe it's a handrail. A creative, colorful source of stability we cling to in rough seas? 

I know that I consider everything that has ever happened to me a gift. I am who I am not despite what happened, but because of it. The world NEEDS people like me so others don't have to keep living in a darkened pain. I have some light and a handrail. 

We all deserve a sense of belonging. I belong. At the very least to me.