by Randi Miller

Created on: March 04, 2007   Last Updated: January 08, 2008

The past makes us who we are. There is no way around it, under it, or over it ... the only way is through it. Some of us choose to hang on that cross a bit longer than we need to, and we have to remember that somebody out there needs the wood more than we do. Its a hard thing, the past.

But without the scars of battle, what stories would we tell? What better way to be reminded of the things we probably shouldn't really try twice.

I like being able to point to a scar inside my heart, touch it once in a while to prove it's still there, and tell myself whatever story goes with it that might help me get through. Its pretty encouraging to consider what we've been through to help us get through whatever comes next.

For a lot of years I thought of myself as a stone perched atop a mighty mountain that nobody could climb. Having been trained by my father not to react no matter how hard he tried to get to me, I forged some amazing walls over the course of my life. And I don't really do windows. Watching my sister crumble night after night under the pressure of emotional abuse, I silently became stronger and stronger, making a vow to myself to never let anyone get to me like that. And I made a note to myself: Be unaffected and nobody can hurt you.

When my sister was very small, and I even smaller, she taught me something it took me years to realize I had learned. My parents were going out to some fancy event, which was rare, and when my father came into the living room to wait for my mom, my sister extended her little arms and said "Daddy, hug me goodbye!" And my father, towering over his six year-old daughter, responded by saying "not now, I'm too dressed up," and went back to primping in the mirror. My sister was devastated. Always the careful observer, I made a note to myself: Don't ask for attention.

When I sang at my first public gig in a bar at the under age of 14, my father made the rounds to every table to brag about the fact that I was his daughter. And all the way home in the car he berated me for singing "A-B-C songs that nobody wants to hear." Note to self: People you love will say things just to hurt you.

Its astounding how long we can hold onto these wounds, often without realizing it. And the more fiercely we subconsciously clutch them to our chests, the bigger they grow, and one day we just can't see them anymore because they've gotten too big and the shadow they cast over our lives is enormous. I think this is part of that whole "forest for the trees" thing. At any rate, living in that giant shadow makes trusting, loving, and giving a trifecta of difficult tasks.

But when we do see what's holding us back from our own happiness and finally jump down from that cross, everything becomes a bit clearer, and we can begin to move forward. Some of us move more quickly than others. Remember that, as you take your own steps, and try to be patient with those who are a bit more obsessed with scar tissue than you are.

We're all going through something. All of us. Its a shame if we don't find a way to share at least some of our love with each other and occasionally give someone a glimpse of our soft underbellies. I'm just saying.

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