There is a mythical “ancient Chinese quote” referenced in a book by Terry Pratchett: May you live in Interesting Times. On the surface, the quote looks innocent, but if you ponder it for a few moments, how ominous those interesting times could be become clear as the tumultuous storms and tempests of a life on a road less travelled.

Having become a mom of twins four years ago, I have been spending a lot of time revisiting my own childhood in my mind. I avoided becoming a parent myself for many years, as I had a very abusive childhood, and I had a very real to me fear of also being an abusive parent. Irrational, I know, but the mind can play a powerful role in our choices.

It took me accidentally falling pregnant at the age of 39 and then having a miscarriage almost 12 weeks later to realise I desperately wanted to be a mom. Many attempts, doctors, and three miscarriages later, it became clear that I could not carry a pregnancy full term.

I became a mom of the most amazing twins through adoption. They changed my life and made me realise that none of us are bound to what happened to us in the past.

Having become a mother myself, it made me question my non-existent relationship with my own biological mother. I haven’t physically seen or spoken to her for many years. It was just too painful. I found myself questioning what it was that made me so unlovable, so very obviously disobedient, that I deserved the kind of abuse that happened to me as a youngster.

From being locked in a wardrobe with no food, to live cigarettes extinguished on my skin, to scars and welts from being hit with a sjambok, these were all commonplace to me. I became adept at hiding signs of abuse from my peers at school and my teachers, because I was so very ashamed. We already had a scarlet letter painted on us because of my mother’s promiscuity in a very traditional, small town, plus we were known to be poor white trash, dependent on the church for food parcels and clothing. The last thing I needed, was more attention focussed on me.

No matter how much I tried to hide everything, it soon came to light, and amongst much outrage I was removed from my mother’s care and I became a ward of the state at age fifteen.

Then, just as I thought I had closed all doors to my past, I received an sms from an unknown number, asking to speak with me. I replied, and it turned out to be my biological mother. I realised that I was no longer afraid of her, and that it was time to let ghosts of the past get put to rest. If not for my sake, for the sake of my children.

This past Christmas found me trekking up north, to go visit the bogeywoman who gave birth to me, to find answers to questions, and to find peace.

What I found instead was an old, frail, sick woman. A woman who remembers fractions of the past, who found it hard to look me in the eye, who could initially only speak to me via her last husband. I found someone who needs my forgiveness, my compassion and my empathy.

I learnt so many lessons during my visit. No matter what, we can forgive. I am not the sum of what happened to me, but the sum of my choice of what to make of all of it. I do not have to make the same mistakes, nor can I claim to be a victim because of what happened to ne. I am stronger because of all of my history. I am a better parent to my twins. And I am able to provide advice and support to so many more people because I survived the storms and tempests.