Essay 127: A hero’s journey

Once upon a time on a far away island, a woman’s screams echoed in a hospital bedroom as she labored to birth her second child. During her entire pregnancy, she had wished for a boy. When the nurse presented her with her second daughter, she was surprised and disappointed. She hadn’t even thought of a name. This is how I, Sarah, was born.

I did not meet my father that day.
In fact, he was married to someone else.
In fact, he had not only fathered mom’s six year old daughter, he also had a four year old boy with his wife.
In fact, only ten months later, she’d give birth to his second son.

My parents finally married when I was four years old and my sister ten. They both worked full time so I was raised by cheap hired help and a paternal grandmother who did not like me. (She preferred the “other” wife & kids.)

I have very few memories of my early childhood. I remember good food and family gatherings. I remember watering the plants with my grandpa. I remember standing on a chair to recite poetry and receiving a coin for a job well done. I remember going to restaurants and playing at the public pool on weekends. I remember vacations by the beach.

My parents loved each other but their relationship was never tranquil. Partly because my mother was a full blown narcissist who also struggled with depression, anxiety and panic attacks. Partly because they shared very few core values. They disagreed on almost everything, including religion, finances and friendships.

I was a high energy, very sociable kid who thrived in school and got mostly As. I rode my bike and enjoyed soccer matches with my many cousins. I played board games and ate homemade breadfruit chips on Sunday afternoons.

Around age eight and for the next several years, I was molested by two different male family members. This changed me. The smiley, easy going child turned into a rebellious, promiscuous teenager. I was emancipated* at age 16, graduated high-school at 17, earned a bachelor’s degree in German linguistics & history at 20 and got married at 21.

In 369 words, this is the story of my childhood. A story that shaped me and defined me as I transitioned to adult life. Chapters were added: a move to Los Angeles, a move to Hawaii, the birth of a child but the story I told myself and others stayed the same until I realized a powerful truth: I am not the sum of what has happened to me. What people did to me or didn’t do for me is irrelevant to how I choose to show up in the world now.

I had been telling the story of a victim when I am a hero.

I was not burned but refined by fire. The challenges of my past did not break me. They made me.
They made me strong. They made me loving. They made me generous. They made me compassionate.
Above all, they made me grateful.

I had let the past shackle me when all along I also held the key that could set me free.
We all are born with that key. Nothing, no one can take it away. We just have to choose to use it. We can step into the present and be who we want to be. We can write a new story. We can be the heroes we are meant to be.

Heroes don’t expect circumstances to be easier. They do hard things.
Heroes don’t wish problems away. They deal with what is.
Heroes don’t wait to be rescued. They save themselves (and often others too).
Heroes struggle and conquer. They make mistakes and learn. They fail AND succeed.

I have chosen to be the hero of my story. How about you?

---

*Emancipated: If a young person under the age of majority is emancipated, the parent no longer has any say over the minor’s life. An emancipated minor can keep earnings from a job, decide where to live, make his or her own medical decisions, and more.

---