So, I've been trying to think of what I wanted to talk about this week and I have to say that the only thing that really stuck out in my mind was how things have changed. It's not just that I've grown up or that I've had more "real world" experience. No, it's about how things have changed as time has gone on. I grew up mostly in less urban, more rural areas.
I grew up in the '90s. No, I didn't get into drugs or going to parties all the time where alcohol was a staple. I also never really worried about being labeled. I was teased enough by my cousins about my mud-like hair, though my sister's hair was the same and they referred to it as "more chocolatey", my lack of being normal, and my inability to be as they thought I should.
I loved playing basketball and the school I attended at first was very encouraging. Then we moved. This new town had basketball teams, but as I aged I learned that it was more a male's sport and the girls were supposed to cheer or play volleyball. If they wanted to play basketball, they needed the money to be allowed the privilege at a local community center. At ten years old, I didn't really understand, nor did I want to. I had moved to Illinois from South Carolina. In S.C., I had learned to keep my differences hidden as much as possible and that I was likely to be blamed for things that went wrong.
Anything against the rules was my fault, according to my babysitter and her son who was my age. If I tried to tell my mother or dad what happened, they didn't have time to listen. In fact, the only times I really got praised was if I managed to keep quiet and out of the way. Then as I got older I was expected to anticipate what the adults, whether it was a teacher, relative, or someone else, expected out of me. At one point I was proud of my school and tried to keep things clean. My family never realized it, but I despised messes. Clean was queen. The problem? I became the scapegoat.
No, seriously. I was the scapegoat. Lily* has a tantrum? Ency caused it. Janine's* dolls are missing? Ency hid them. Michael's* being chased by a hammer-wielding Ency? She's in a bad mood again. Sylvia's* hair's been cut? Ency did it while she was sleeping. The girls' bedroom is a mess? Ency trashed it. The kids were late for school? Ency took forever to get ready.
They forget about the reason behind the behavior. Lily didn't get her way, because the toy she wanted was mine and I was playing with it. Janine misplaced her dolls or hid them so no one else could play with them. Sylvia cut her own chopped off hair and refused to get in trouble for doing such a bad job. The really bad thing, in my opinion, is the things that were forgotten even by my siblings. Michael had chased Sylvia with the previously stated hammer before I could wrench it out of his hands. I only chased him because he wanted to end it there without apologizing for terrifying Sylvia out of her mind. I never threw our toys or books around the room. Cards, sure. I'd be playing fifty-two card pick-up because neither my siblings nor cousins wanted to play with me. The reason I took my time? The one morning after being ready for school I got the nerve to ask my mother if we could go to school early (I really wanted to play on the jungle gym!) she asked if I was ready. I told her yes because I was. She told me I was allowed to go early. I got in trouble upon arriving home because I went without Janine or Lily. What does that tell a girl? I was excited, but I wasn't allowed to go to school because my sisters couldn't decide on the outfit they wished to wear.
I could get really good grades on a project, and win the project to take home, but even after promising to showcase it, it always paled to anything my siblings did. Now things have changed. I still get treated differently, but it's because I have no children or driver's license. It's because I don't have a college degree and my dreams that I thought I once had no longer exist.
These changes aren't new. Things I once loved like family and conservation, became my family members focus when I finally stopped trying. I took pride in my family, once upon a time. Now, I distance myself and avoid them because they were never there when I needed them, but expected me to drop everything and do what I could for them. Sure my husband and I lived with my mother for a few years when we couldn't stand staying with our hypocritical friends any longer. But she still expected way too much out of us when I barely kept myself sane as it was.
Everyone has masks. This statement, no matter what anyone says, is true. Even a baby has a mask. It's the mask of innocence. The inability to communicate their needs and wants using the words they will one day learn unless they happen to be mute. In my case, I have multiple masks that all change as time goes by. I can guarantee that most adults who are no longer in the teenage years have at least three masks to cover who they are. There's the them they present to the family. This one conforms to what is expected by what they have constantly repeated. These expectations have been reinforced by things family has done or said over the course of the person's life. In my case, it's to be strong, emotionally, and violent. I can't be right about anything except spelling and the little nuggets of information I have in my head are inconsequential. When it comes right down to it, I don't matter as much as others in my family or even my husband.
Then there are friends. It started with the first impression and rumors, things they knew not to trust but until they could prove that they would be there through thick and thin, they had to expect. It's also the things you believe they think because of the way they were raised. For me, it's once again violence and emotionally strong. There's also strange humor and a willingness to say whatever I feel though tactfully. A leader willing to follow until the need for a leader becomes so strong my willingness to be patient runs out. It's pretending to enjoy something I hate because my friend's friend, whom I have never before met, has just been through a nasty break up. It's a second mask.
Then there's the mask you use in the face of strangers and for first impressions. Mine happens to be very friendly. No violence is required unless in defense. It's outgoing and all smiles. Sometimes it's an annoying facade since even a remotely bad mood is noted. However, it can usually also be noticed by the observant that it's a false smile. There isn't anything wrong with it after all "smiles go for miles," but sometimes a person just needs to cry. Sometimes they have a bad day and don't wish to speak of it. Sometimes a person doesn't wish to deal with strangers.
When I was growing up, each of these masks were started. They kept getting refined to the point that I no longer knew who I was or what I wanted. That period of self-discovery most teens go through? Yeah, I skipped. In fact, I went from a joking conversationalist in preschool who did everything they could to protect others against cruelty (Think you can tease the black girls? Ency will scream you out. Think you can throw ice at Lily? Ency will get even with you for her, and you'll have the marks to prove it. I was a big believer in the only do unto others as you would have done to you.) to someone who stopped believing in the good of humanity but managed to pretend and keep herself busy.
Anyway, I better stop there as I'm getting tired and need sleep. My next rant will likely be related to America's Independence Day, the Fourth of July. I hope everyone has a happy Fourth of July!
*Names are changed to protect the actual people portrayed.
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