The Elephant

Body

...

My mother came home after waking up at seven in the morning on a Sunday just to workout before pretending to get stuff done at home. It was nine o'clock when she came in and saw me sitting on the couch with the television off and nothing in my hands. She couldn't stop herself from asking me what I was doing in a way that implied she just wanted to know why I wasn't doing something worthwhile. "I'm tired" I told her again, but this time it was more careless, it was more like I knew I was defeated before she could even reply in the way that would tell me she just didn't get it. "Yeah, well, we all are" was all she could say.

In my head I was saying:

But what I don't think you realize, Mom, is that I'm tired. And I say it all the time because sometimes it means I didn't get enough sleep, other times it means I just don't want to be somewhere, other times it means I'm sad, it almost always means I'm sad. I'm tired, Mom, and that's another elephant we are allowing to walk in between us. Can't you see it? Can't you tell that it's asking for your attention? Why won't you call it out, Mom? Because I can't. I need you to see it, because if I tell you, you won't understand.

Instead, I just yawned a little and shrugged my shoulders to show her that I wasn't going to get up and do something just because she walked in the door. It had been a few days since the whole thing about Mr. Zerchich leaving and being replaced by the woman whom I had yet to give a name. My mother, per usual, responded to my initial complaint with "You mean The Busdriver?" and I had to say, "Yes, Mom, but his name is Mr. Zercich." I supposed she didn't take too kindly to my correction as she crossed her arms and said through somewhat pursed lips with a haughty tone, "What about Mr. Zercich?" And her attitude right then made me want to literally lock my lips shut and throw away the key, so I mumbled "nevermind" and directed my gaze right back at the television screen that wasn't on. That was exactly what I was doing when she continued on by after coming home from the gym.

It was times like that, when she dismissed me and tried to make me feel guilty, that I wished I had put on a bra when I woke up and dressed ready for a day I didn't have planned just so that I looked like the kind of person who was going to do something. It infuriated me to realize that my mother was being passive aggressive and I was the only one there for her to project that on. It was even worse realizing that she had elephants too and that I couldn't point them out. I was frightened to. And maybe that's why she never pointed out mine. Maybe we were all too afraid to point them out. Maybe we're all just afraid.

...

I'm just a bad person on the inside, like in the mind, to myself, because I hated doing most of the things I did most of the time and it was so easy for me to forget about how great I was doing in real life. It sucked. Everyone else saw that picture-perfect person who had outstanding grades, got involved in school communities, saved time for friends, and held a job. As far as everyone else was concerned, I was handling life with more than ease, I was practically stomping on its face in mockery as if to say "You think you're so tough. Ha!" But that was just what people thought. Not what I thought, and definitely not what I felt.

I felt like life was beating me up and saying to me "I can't believe you're actually doing all this shit. Ha!" So I guess everything is perspective, but as far as whose perspective matters goes, I would never be able to tell you. It always seemed like someone had a say whether you think they did or not. Other people are influencing your decisions all of the time. I know that Molly was making a lot of my decisions for me without actually saying a word. It was her fooling around when she was my age that made me apprehensive about doing anything as careless as her. I was seventeen and hadn't had sex, smoked, or drank a bottle of beer. I hadn't even stayed out past curfew with a boy. It frightened me to keep a relationship longer than a month because I never wanted to have to make the decision to move forward. It was frustrating, yes, but it was also good. At least, every source ever will tell you that all of that is the recipe to a good child and future accomplisher. Staying within the lines like we are taught to do with crayons and then with cars is what we are supposed to do with our lives, right?