Between Me and The Wall

Trigger Warnings- Arguments between Family / Mental Health

"We only want what's best for you."

I could feel my chest tighten and my heart drumming faster with each word they spoke. My voice wanted to prove them wrong, but my mouth wouldn't open, no matter how much I willed it to. The look of false empathy in their eyes only made me far more upset than I was. Time and time again, they would act as if they understood my sorrows. Being handed such sweet words of reassurance as comfort for a situation they put me in left a sour taste in my throat.  

Their parental status over me was a reminder that they had authority over me as their child. I knew my mother and father loved me dearly, and I loved them just as much. However, after sixteen years of being forced to uphold the image of a picture-perfect child, I was getting tired of playing by their rules. With every test came a fear that they would become upset if I couldn't perform well enough, and every friendship that they didn't start for me quickly ended. I needed to maintain a certain weight, an above-average grade. My hobbies had to fit an intelligent lady soon to enter society. They would never punish me as harshly as other parents did, but they would look at me with the same look in their eyes as the one that they had then. 

"You want what you think is best for me, not what is. I understand that you're my mom and dad and want me to live a good life, but this," I motioned to the three of us sitting at the dining room table," is not what will benefit me in the long run." I spoke as though I was trying not to wake a sleeping lion. We had never had arguments like this before. Usually, I would submit and admit defeat. But the presence of a burden sparks the necessity for change. My mother looked down at me fiercely. Her deep, dark brown eyes stared into mine. She didn't like to be the one in the wrong. 

"Camerie, we're doing our best to ensure you have a headstart. You don't understand it now because you're still a child, but we're trying to help as much as possible." My father tried to explain their point of view, but I ignored his words. I stayed silent, trying to think of the most appropriate response. They didn't like that, though. "The least you could do is respond when we talk to you!" I felt as though I wanted to explode. My hands formed into fists underneath the table, and it took all my self-control not to let my face contort into a disrespectful expression. "It doesn't feel like I'm a child at all! You can't decide whether to treat me like I'm still ten or raise your ridiculously high expectations. In the end, I'll be alright without having to maintain perfection every day. I'm not sure if either of you has noticed, but the stress you put me under has made my anxiety worse than ever!"

For a moment, it seemed that the room had gone dead silent. The thumping of my heart in my chest increased by the second. A part of me felt joy; I had finally stood up for myself. Another aspect of me was terrified. I had more than likely royally messed up by trying to express my needs and concerns. Would my parents listen? Would they punish me for starting an argument? The fear I felt blossomed throughout my body, flowing through my veins and making chills run down my spine. We stared at one another for a minute before my mom broke the silence.

"If you're anxious, why didn't you say anything?" I frowned deeply and took a deep breath. "I never said anything because you two were too busy trying to create the perfect life for your perfect daughter." My father sighed and pushed his glasses back into place. "What is it you wanted to achieve with this conversation? As of the moment, we're not getting anywhere." Finally, we were making progress. "I just want help. I want someone to talk to about how stressed I am without it becoming a major argument. I want you both to understand that I'm not a robot; I won't ever be perfect. I can do my best, but I won't always be what you wish I could be." I forced air into my lungs and continued. "I want our relationship to be built on a love that isn't conditional. That's what I want."

My parents looked at one another and had a silent conversation. I couldn't determine what they were trying to communicate, but their expressions gave it away. Beneath the constant desire to provide me with a good life, it looked as if they were burdened by the guilt of causing me so much distress. It looked like they had known before, if only a little, that they had placed too many heavy expectations on me. 

Typically, talking to my parents was like talking to a wall. You didn't get a response, making you feel as though you were crazy for even trying to start a conversation. I couldn't persuade my mother and father, and I couldn't change their minds. But like a wall, you could break it down with enough force. After years of trying to tell them how I felt, I had finally knocked down the wall that separated us. 

My mother turned back to face me and smiled sadly. "We should have been more understanding. We know you can't always be perfect. We were scared that you could end up like us once you grew up. Of course, it's no excuse for our actions." She tapped the table with her nails and allowed my father to speak. "We couldn't give you everything we hoped to when you were born. When you were little, we promised one another that we would do whatever it took to ensure you could live the life you deserve as an adult." 

"You're the best child any parent could ask for. We're more than happy to have you in our lives. If you're up to it, let's start over. We can make things better." A small smile crept its way onto my lips. "I'd like that."