MARY B. JOHNSTON: Connecting the Dots: The Power of Reflection

As a personal historian, I have the privilege of helping people recall and record their past. We sort through boxes of childhood photos and memorabilia, sift through the most important events in their courtship and marriage, piece together their circuitous career path, recall parenting highlights, and explore critical turning points. This excavation process helps them make sense of their lives.

Often the most poignant and vivid memories are from childhood—driving a tractor at age eight, growing up without running water, losing a parent during grade school, stirring up mischief with friends. Coming-of-age stories are a close second—a first love, the time that death felt imminent on the battlefield, the fear associated with changing careers, confronting a boss.

The most difficult part of the journey (and perhaps the most important)—is making connections. How did my parents’ loving marriage affect my own? How did my brother’s autism influence family dynamics? How has my short temper shaped my children’s lives?

Connecting the dots from the past to the present requires us to climb a mountain and take a look across the terrain of our lives. It requires attributing a cause, perhaps responsibility, to someone—often ourselves. This process can be tricky, open ended, and painful. Even so, tending to this work is the most important task we can do in our lives. Why? Because making these connections can identify successes, foster healing, and deepen relationships. It can also allow the next generation to gain insight about hurtful and helpful family patterns, giving them greater insight and control of their lives.

One of my clients, parented by a very stern, physically abusive father, was damaged and scarred. When he became a parent, he parented in a similar way—though without ever striking his children. It wasn’t until his children were out of the house that he saw the imprint of his father’s parenting on his own. The psychological injuries among the children were considerable and so was the anger. Thankfully, once he recognized his father in himself, the penitence and forgiveness began.

Another client was raised by loving deaf parents. His was a hard life with little money and even less guidance in school, social, and spiritual matters. Early on, this man recognized that it was the combination of financial deprivation and abundant love that made him the successful, compassionate person he is. Making that connection saved him from self-pity and gave him an opportunity to thank his parents—in time.

Identifying the power of the past on our present can feel imprisoning, but it need not. I am reminded of an aunt and nephew who got together one Thanksgiving. They bore the weight of three generations of alcoholism and they were among those affected.

Thanksgiving morning, after talking about the imprint they both carried, they decided together to break the cycle and supported each other in their difficult and ultimately successful journey to sobriety.

As I parented my teenage children, I was surprised to see that I was behaving like my maternal grandmother, who tried to wield control in her children’s and grandchildren’s lives in ways that had always made me uncomfortable. When I recognized my own impulse to take over, I not only better understood her behavior but also made a concerted effort not to do to my children what had so irritated me.

Making the connection helped me parent more effectively but it did not eliminate the desire to tell my children what to do. Like the aunt and her nephew, choosing to change doesn’t undo the pain of the past, but it lessens its influence and helps us to shape the future in a positive way.

Connecting the dots allows us not only to live our lives, but to author them—an act that enables us to interpret and direct them.

Mary B. Johnston lives in Charleston, South Carolina, where she works as a personal historian and editor, two professions that combine her love for people and language. Married to a marine biologist, mother to two daughters, and guardian to her dog Scout, Mary enjoys their company, yoga, reading, writing, and listening to NPR.