The Past

Our pasts are funny things. They define us, and yet we spend lifetimes trying to undo the habits we created then, cope with the relationships that crumbled, and mend the damage done to us by others. 

The past makes us, yet at the same time there's always opportunities to redefine. 

Ivy Keller was born in Cleveland, Ohio; a city, but lesser known than, say, New York or Chicago. Nonetheless it was a city, full of all the wonderful, and not so wonderful, aspects of city living. 

And while Ivy’s suburban raised parents may have craved the constant buzz, the same could not be said for their young daughter. In many ways her parents did their best; but she was their only child and with that came an overwhelming amount of pressure on her. 

They expected the world from her, and yet they were constantly leaving for business trips. And when they returned all they seemed to care about were her grades. 

They didn’t ask about her safety taking the bus to and from school each day.

They didn’t ask about the relationships that came and went.

They didn’t ask about the times she ended up in the school counselor's office crying because she could no longer take the pressure. 

Ian and Elaina Keller saw their daughter through their lens. Beautiful, smart, and self sufficient. And she was all those things, and more; but she couldn’t be them all the time. 

The trips started when she was in third grade. They gave her a bus pass for her ninth birthday and told her they had some overlapping business trips coming up. Ivy had been excited at first, feeling grown and independent as the neighbor, Greta, walked her to the bus stop and back each day. 

But soon the excitement faded. The short visits were too short for them to know anything substantial. Ivy knew more about Greta than she did about her own parents, and the thought that they didn’t care was a storm cloud hanging over her every movement. 

Ivy was beautiful, her hair falling in dark waves against her pale skin. Freckles were splattered against her cheeks, her eyes the color of dark leaves. But despite her friends' encouragement and the many times she was asked to school dances, she couldn’t bring herself to say yes. Self loathing and doubt followed her, every accomplishment, every happy moment, was overshadowed by the harsh reality that the people that brought her into the world didn’t really believe she mattered.

She was hard on herself.

And when her parents came home to see she had C’s across the board they panicked. They got angry. They yelled. Ivy cried. 

All she had wanted was for them to help her, to see, for once, that she was struggling. After that she went back to straight A’s. She had just wanted help from them, but instead their anger only made her feel worse. 

But Greta was there, and Ivy was lucky in that way. Sometimes after a particularly dirty and long bus ride she would invite her over for dinner and they would sit in Greta’s impeccably clean apartment and talk. Ivy’s parents never talked about their families and Greta became almost a grandmother to her. They would talk about things and while it was awkward at times Greta was wise and knew how to comfort her young neighbor. And when Ivy came to the realization she was bisexual, she cried to Greta for hours in uncertainty and fear for what this would mean for her. 

She hadn’t been self aware enough to notice it about herself till junior year. It discomforted her slightly, and at the same time, helped her understand herself better. She never told her parents, she’d rather do without them acting like picture perfect accepting parents then leaving on another trip. Of course they didn’t care if their daughter was bi; they were never around enough to see her have a relationship. She was never comfortable enough with herself in high school to have a girlfriend or boyfriend. Not that her parents ever asked, for all they knew Ivy could’ve gotten pregnant and they probably would have made a comment on her weight then left again. 

It was a miracle she was able to keep her grades up, though they were of such importance she didn’t seem to have a choice in the matter. She was good at forcing herself to get her work done, and her parents were lucky in that way. Had Ivy been more of a rebel the relationship could have been even worse. 

When she graduated from high school she asked them to come to a senior and parent lunch at the school. They looked at her, “Oh honey, we’ll be at the graduation.” 

They never took the opportunity to just talk to her. They talked about school and her future. They didn’t talk about if she was doing okay, how her friends were. They never once actually checked in on her. 

And at the graduation when she looked out at them clapping and smiling proudly she wanted to scream. She’d rather have had Greta there than her actual parents. Because they weren’t responsible for her success. They never helped her with homework or stayed up late helping her finish a project. She was the only one who deserved credit for her success. 

Perhaps it was in that exact moment that made Ivy realize she couldn’t let them control her. Although it’s often not precise moments that lead us to change our views but a slow build up till we realize how powerful we are. 

After graduation Ivy changed her major from medicine like they had wanted to psychology. She was smart, beautiful and self sufficient, and for once, it wasn’t through her parents eyes that she was that way. It was through her own. She trusted herself and she worked hard and she fought her battles. And after college she opened her own practice. 

She helped people the way she had always wanted to be helped. 

Sometimes the past is just that; the past. It cannot be changed, the present and the future are up to you. And with time, and by making your world your own, you redefine your past until all it did was make you stronger.