The Work
Learning my resilience
Asking a child to work on herself is absurd that much is clear to me now, at 26, yet at seven, I bought that I was sick. That I had to work long and hard to make myself better. I was never sick my inner child longs to escape
Asking an adult to forgive her parents is somehow reasonable I walk into my parent’s house and feel like a ghost this writing is bothering me because it is not neat, not clear it isn’t perfect. I need to be perfect to be enough.
My therapist’s daughter died three weeks ago of muscular dystrophy 26, like me. Braver. I didn’t know her. I do what I can. Plant a seed. Heat a lamp. we agree to meet in a month.
I begin a new job looking after a 9-year old with Angelman syndrome I can’t say the two are related. I can’t say they aren’t. certain experiences go without saying, and their connections intangible, yet real as can be.
I am drawn to those who love the misfit, the stranger the misunderstood. In other words, I value those needed so deeply they dedicate their lives to loving, not because they can, because they must.
Ever since I was small I wanted to help others I was the first to sit with the new kid in class those who would come and go, from India, China, Russia I would share my lunch, of course, offer my notes for catch-up
visiting their homes, I remember the fragrant dinners the brothers and sisters running amok. Truth is I never liked Americans much. Somehow I sensed a falseness in them. This same falseness in myself. I never trusted my parents. I felt they hated me.
which is why, when I left home, I traveled as much as I could hopped planes to Italy, France, Spain, Ireland, England, Israel tried to find my place in a world bigger than my limited upbringing full of lies I absorbed, that I was too much, that I didn’t belong that I was strange, crazy, ditzy, sick, messy, problematic, rebellious
She wobbles. I redirect her holding her hand, careful not to disconnect her fragile wrist joint
around the yard, then down the hill I watch her use all her strength and will to balance, just to stay standing takes so much.
soon, she’ll be turning ten and I, new fixture in her incredible life, can only witness in awe the strides she has made as a child with Angelman syndrome a genetic disorder that delays development wreaks havoc on speech and balance causes intellectual disability and sometimes seizures.
What draws me toward a role caring for a child who needs so much? perhaps I need to be needed. Yes, maybe it is selfish. maybe I’m actually a bad person pretending to be a good person.
Or.
Or.
Fuck it. I’m done with this bullshit.
Why do I dedicate my life to helping others, loving others, caring for others? my resilience.
re·sil·ience
/rəˈzilyəns/
noun
- the capacity to recover quickly from difficulties; toughness.
- the ability of a substance or object to spring back into shape; elasticity.
On a mountain in Spain, I was threatened with a blade as big as my forearm, and survived. The police couldn’t have cared less. I ran for my life, decided I wanted to live. I knew I had to let go of my past. to be truly free. So I did. Now
In my flashbacks, I wait on the next flight. There are strikes all over France and nobody can get home. I am being followed by the man who tried to kill me. I keep hiding in strange corners, but never feel safe. No one seems to notice.
All my life I was told, don’t be so sensitive. Don’t take everything so personally. Have a thicker skin. Roll with the punches. Be normal. I always marched to the beat of my own drummer. A vibrant child who only wanted to be seen, heard, and loved. Unconditionally.
now, I see my inner child with new colors. My work has given me a new vision of this little girl as strong, generous, kind, and fun it takes more work to connect this vision to my current image of myself. seems there is always more work to be done. Sometimes, I wish there wasn’t.
that I could just lie back and be ok with the way things are, the way I am like floating on the ocean on a placid day, letting the waves carry me counting the clouds and finding shapes in them, the way I would as a child before I was told work was the only way. Now I know better.
My childhood set me up to face challenges later in my life. though it was painful, it gave me the tools to face anything that came my way.