For the longest time I believed that for anyone to be happy, they had to first heal all of the traumas of their past.

Sure, there are certain things in the past that require thought, introspection, reconciliation, and therapy to overcome. Especially if that past inhibits your present and future.

If you feel guilt over having wronged another, maybe you need to look at why you behaved the way you did and make amends. If you’ve been hurt by someone and are unable to move forward because of it, maybe you need to address the issue with the person who hurt you.

But too often I’ve given relatively minor things more importance than they deserve.

I can turn dust into a tornado.

Make a scratch into a life-threatening wound.

This is a great tool when it comes to creative writing. But for operating as a rational, productive adult? Not so much.

And making things right isn’t always possible. People die, change, forget, or sometimes remember completely different realities from what we’d swear to be true. What then?

How are we supposed to move on if we can’t right the wrong?

And there’s the thing that held me back: the idea that the past needed fixing.

I have not lived a life of trauma. I’ve been lucky and privileged and I know it. But we’ve all got our shit. Healing and therapy can be necessary and life-changing, but let’s not also forget that these things are an industry.

No matter what it is that plagues you, there’s always someone there with the promise of making it better (for the low, low price of…). For every dedicated therapist out there, there’s also a snake-oil salesman ready with a great deal for you.

I’ve had beneficial therapy and fallen victim to the snake-oil salesmen, but I’m equally apt to throw myself a pity party.

I’ve wallowed over the deaths of friends and relatives.

I’ve been self-indulgent and negative.

Not only are these behaviors unbecoming, unproductive, and unhealthy, but they are completely at odds with what the dearly departed would have wanted for me.

When I finally realized this, it was like the lifting of a fog. Feeling sorry for myself helps no one. Life is short and we only have so much emotional capacity, so there’s no point in wasting it on the negative. It’s far better to channel our energy into the positive.

I’m an emotional creature. By dwelling on that which I cannot change, I let a lot of that emotion manifest into anger. That’s not how I want to live, and those around me deserve better.

There is too much good to do in this world to waste a day in self-pity. I don’t want to do it anymore. I remind myself of this every day.

But there’s still that tricky issue of the past. I believe that it doesn’t always need healing. I don’t need to labor over every screw up, whether it’s my own or someone else’s.

Maybe the past is just a series of events that have taught me to listen to my instincts and move about the world with greater self-awareness and empathy. And since it’s done, I’m better served to focus on what’s right here, right now.

Negative experiences have whatever power we award them. If you need help, get it. (We all need help at times). But if it’s a minor occurrence, and something that isn’t going to resolve itself no matter how much you dwell on it, it’s time to move on.

It may not always feel like a choice, especially when something is still raw. But in time, it’s absolutely a choice. Just not an easy one.

I’ll never have all the answers and I’ll continually find new ways to both improve and screw up. But in either case, I’m going to remind myself to choose to move forward.

You with me?