What I can do

I noticed in town where I lived, that most people whom I met barely looked at me in the eye. I anticipated to becoming an adult because I wanted desperately to be on my own, to be heard and to have opinions. At first my youth days were disappointing because I did not have cheerleader looks or the luck of the phantom. I was personable, yes, I had my niche of friends whom I so enjoyed on occasions when I felt like I could belong but those moments were short lived because I would, in the midst of a very enjoyable encounter with friends, get a sense that I had smiled enough or my quota for feeling happy at that moment was filled for the month. What I mean is that friendships and happiness were not easy for me or presumed. It was an unspoken air of borrowing time and space that I eventually got to understand as the reality of my being. As much as I liked to laugh at jokes and people, I also resented being put on the spot and having to be stopped because of that unspoken air of -not that much fun scorn- which I got from many that I hung out with. Looking back now, it was the best medicine for me because of the equilibrium that resulted from my having to learn to be cautious. I am even tempered no matter what or how long I have been stressed out. To have been around queen bees must speak of my valor and bravery. I notice in hindsight that many of my contemporaries seemed so sure about their future. What life had in store for them. Who they were, and how to be. I used to wonder why I had questions in my head about who to become. I could not make up my mind about whom to date, if I could date. I was not sure of what size my weight could be. I barely knew if I wanted to keep my hair long or short straight or braided.

In college, I could not decide fast enough what major or what I intended to do with my life. My parents thought that I was mentally not okay for being so out of touch with myself. They dismissed me as a failure. So never were there arguments or decisions about what I was up to. Everything fell on my lap per chance. I thought that I was being whimsical. Looking back I think that my parents whose heyday was the tumultuous years of the 1960s had grown up with all of their children and learnt to parent me differently. Instead of telling me to buckle up, they politely ignored all of my obvious failures and undermined what I believed to be big wins. To them I tried too little, I had no mind set for effort. I was not lazy per se, I was just undiscovered and unidentifiable, a bore with very little wisdom.

What I find to be funny today but was a source of my stress was when my parents acted like I was about to lunge at everyone or after I had said something which in reality even today I had no idea what it meant, a combination of word strung together to make sense so I thought, were in fact a source of what made my parents look away , look through windows, be uneasy on their sits or outright get up and leave. I don't really know what was wrong with what I used to say to them. My friends used to just say, 'what are you talking about?' and walk away. What used to be funny about that is, months later my parents would say something like. "You know dad, She tried to tell us about that." My mom referred to my dad as "dad" what other spouses call "Honey, or "Darling" to their husbands or wives. No thanks to me they would continue like I was not in the room. I was told that she started calling him that when I was born.

It is these experiences that later on in life I recall as poignant and telling.

I am an adult and yet to have a meaningful relationship with another adult. I ascribe this to my lack of self assurance or self understanding. I cannot know for sure how I feel at any given moment. I am unsure about naming my inclinations. My brain is not well organized, it is a jumble sale in there!

One day my father who was smoking a cigarette and reading a newspaper, looked up at me as I presented him with a cup of hot tea. I had noticed in other homes in the neighborhood that parents got served impromptu tea when they were at rest. So because I knew that I was a clutz at home and no one "understood me", I thought that silent protest might win me recognition or respect or a moment of his time and he might tell me what was wrong with me. My siblings and cousins all did well with my parents! They could tell a story that I thought of, well and if I had told the same story everyone would have rolled their eyes or walked away.

My dad looked up and said; "Oh thanks! What is that all about?"

I said "I notice that most kids make tea for their parents, I thought that I could try too. Milk?"

"Yes milk, thank you."

He continued to read his newspaper, I lingered around wanting recognition and feedback that I was not that gross or to be dismissed.

"Dad, I was wondering..."

Dad cut me short and said, "I know what you are wondering about. Why do we not pay attention to you etc. etc. We feel that you have grown far beyond your years. You can take care of yourself. Half the time we have no idea what you are talking about. Let me read my paper. Thanks for the tea!"

My own dad had no idea what I was talking about. What was wrong with me?

At least it was a window to a portion of my being and he secretly gave me an insight that whatever was going on with me, was not supposed to bother others because none understood the turmoil in my heart.

On one ominous day I overheard my parents talking in their room.

"I don't know what is wrong with her." my mom said

"I told you not to have any more children and you said you wanted just one last one!" my dad said

"Did you expect that our daughter would be like that? I sure didn't. Is she funny or is she trying to be funny? What did her Psychologist say?" my mom asked.

"I could not bring myself to telling her that she was the one who was supposed to see a Psychologist, so I went in instead. She waited in the lobby and thought that she was supporting me." my dad said sheepishly.

"Oh, you! What am I going to do with you? She will get worse. What are we going to do now?" my mom asked.

"We are going to ignore her like we always did. In the meantime I will talk to my Psychologist about my smoking again. I had stopped remember? She will be 21 in eighteen months and out of our hands. Let someone else deal with her." my dad said.

It was then that I realized that I had good parents but I was a loser. I will probably be a failure all of my life. Maybe if I married someone I will be okay! I thought to myself.