25 years old and still crying about our childhoods
Updated: Sep 15, 2020
The title of this blog is somewhat misleading, because I look back at my childhood and think that I was one of the lucky ones. I meet so many people who still carry the weight of their childhoods as adults and struggle to find peace. I've always heard of generational curses being a literal "curse" that you carry from those who lived before you, but the older I've gotten I've learned that it's not a curse. Sometimes the pain you feel originates from someone else's experiences.
Whenever I come back to Tennessee, I make it a point to see everyone that I love. I see my family, my friends, old friends just because, and I always make a hair appointment with the same person because it makes me feel like I'm really home.
My friends and I have the same routine, and it's always the best. We meet in Johnson City, drink craft beer, and reminisce. I can't tell you how many times we start a sentence with, "Dude, do you remember when..." and laugh until we have tears in our eyes. It's been that way for years, and it never gets old. Seeing them, laughing with them, kissing them on the cheek when they leave, those little things just don't ever get old.
After all the laughter and all the memories we bring up, there's always that look. The look we give each other when we know we're about to talk about something real. This time, it was about the pain we carried. It wasn't an obvious pain. It was the type you only talk about when you've had one or two beers, and you find yourself dying to talk about it. Here we were, on a beautiful day, crying in the corner of Johnson City Brewing Company because we finally feel like we can open up about the things we saw growing up. The bar tender looked at us several times, but I don't think it's because of our stories being too private to talk about in public. I think he was intrigued by our experiences and felt empathy. There would be times my friends would tell me about what it was like when they were kids, and my heart would shatter. A lot of us don't realize that our friends' pain, is our pain, too.
At the end of our conversation, I remember saying, "just imagine what our mom's went through and they didn't have the platform or the laws that protect us today". I remember after talking about our experiences, there was a lot of forgiveness, too. All of us had nothing bad to say about anyone, other than we felt sorry for those who had wronged us, because they themselves had been wronged. I remember leaving that day feeling liberated but reminded. I was reminded of God's grace and how He turns ashes into something beautiful. I'll never forget that day and what it meant to me, just like those girls, those friends, who make coming home so worth it.
I never realized that the cure to a broken heart meant coming back home.
12 You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands. 13 Instead of the thornbush will grow the juniper, and instead of briers the myrtle will grow. This will be for the Lord’s renown, for an everlasting sign, that will endure forever.”