When I was a child
The thought of my childhood rarely conjures up feelings of exceeding joy or memories which I treasure. While I have squarely dealt with the past and the things which burdened me for many years, it is an undeniable fact that I carried the scars of my childhood deep into my adolescent years. A poignant image however which is indelibly edged in memory is that of me standing between some of my peers as a 6-year-old, dressed in a white shirt with mint green polka dots, donned in a mint green bowtie to complete the look. The clothes chosen by my mother yet sanctioned by my father. It would be this look that would later become the hallmark of my life. I would later become a young man who reminded my peers as one who dressed like their fathers.
The pain I carried over two decades of my life came as the result of a myriad of monotone experiences. I often wondered why I was always attracted to colour later in my life. The only conclusion I could make, was that the colour was in triumph over the dark strokes life had painted my life during my childhood. Please do not make the mistake to think that this writing is an attempt to memorialise my childhood. In all honesty, the pain of my past became the fertile ground which nourished the roots of my life. It is no wonder that I have such a high threshold for pain. And I almost never numb pain through pain medication unless it is truly a necessity.
My opinion of pain has not always been this way. There was a time when I prayed every day that the pain I felt in my heart would simply go away. While I was a scrawny boy, my exposure to pain solidified the inner walls of my psyche. If pain is to be considered a Master, then it taught me that there can be no appreciation of joy unless you have first wrestled with sheer agony. My pain came not merely at the hand of others, but I inflicted pain upon myself through the poor choices I made over many years. The pain of regret taught me valuable lessons and I promised myself never to do it again. Needless to say, my incoherent understanding of life, caused me to make several bad choices before I finally realised that there was a major need for change.
I cannot deny that pain can also be debilitating and can keep one trapped in isolation for years. The horror of being in the clutches of sexual abuse for 11 years of my life from age 6 to 17, meant that I chained myself to a secret which was never meant to be my own and carried the burden of a man who threatened me if I ever broke his trust. The sweetest moment for me was being able to finally unlock that prison of silence and to share with my parents the mirage of depravity which I endured. My release from that prison door was not necessarily easy. It brought with it a barrage of questions, explanations, more questions, guilt and often regret, but in the end I felt liberated. Years of counselling and unlearning the coping mechanisms of my past were hard work, to say the least. What is key is that I triumphed! Pain is not the end. Never believe that lie. On the other side of the grimy walls of pain lies a vast unexplored land of remarkable possibilities.
