An Inner Strength
by Mary Gibbons
For me, the line separating childhood from adulthood has been a blurry one. I grew up amid circumstances that require one to grow up at a young age; not only in the bigger things, but in the little events as well. Let me set the stage: I am the younger of two daughters and, by the time I came along, my parents were fairly unhappily married. As I have gotten older, I have increasingly learned just how unhappy. My sister was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia when she was eleven and I was only seven. The stress of doctor visits, hospitalizations, and emotional breakdowns only made tensions worse. By the time I was fifteen, my aging grandparents had moved in with us so my mom could care for them. Shortly thereafter, my grandfather died. Providence scoffed. Dear Mary, welcome to your life.
By no means was my life awful. The ending, in fact, has been truly remarkable. Let me go ahead and ruin the ending: my parents ended up happily ever after, my sister is now engaged to a wonderful man, and I never ended up in the loony bin. However, it is not the end that I wish to talk about. It is the middle, those years in between. It was those things that helped define my life and mark the distinction between youth and adulthood. In my life, the distinction was this: emotional independence.
As a child, I would likely be described as sweet, quiet, or responsible. I was the prototypical, “student of the month.” Being structured and serious was part of how I tried to control some of the chaos going on around me, a venture that cost me in the long run. A huge amount of my security and mental well-being rested in whether or not things going on around me were manageable. Circumstances and people dictated my thoughts and feelings. One can imagine that in a family of shaky marital standing and mental illness, this proved to be a problem. But my mom was my savior. She did exactly what a mother is supposed to do: protect her children. She did an incredible job at sheltering me from the emotional upset that came along with the environment that I was in. I saw little discord between her and my father. She always talked positively to us about him and encouraged our interaction. As far as my sister goes, I only have a dim memory of ever seeing her in a critical state. Yes, my childhood was a happy one. Herein lies the problem. My mom was so intent on protecting me from hardship, she tended to cater to my emotional needs. My lunch boxes always had little encouraging notes. She would be short on sleep so she could talk with me late into the night about some dreadful crisis involving a yearbook picture and see-through shirt. She even did my laundry until college, just so I wouldn’t have anything else to “worry” about. She was a fabulous mom and a best friend, but my emotional dependence on her caused some problems as I ventured out into the world.
When I headed off to college, I was in for a major culture shock. Suddenly, there was no alarm clock to rub my back in the morning. It had tragically been replaced with a hideous little white box, callously beeping at me to get out of bed. No longer could I depend on home cooked meals or laundry service. I existed on frozen dinners and laundromats. The world was not warm and cozy, but cold and indifferent to my emotional needs. I was no longer the center of the universe…and I hated it.
It wasn’t just the small things that were affected by my need to control my environment. The most detrimental way that this problem played itself out was in my relationships. With an idealistic view of how people should behave and respond to me, I was often left disappointed. Any form of rejection took its toll on my self-esteem. I had a strong idea of what life should look like. These “shoulds” ruled my thoughts and, consequently, my behaviors. I avoided certain situations and saying certain things. If people don’t have the chance to get to know me, they can’t reject me, and I won’t feel inadequate. Likewise, if I don’t take risks, I won’t fail and I won’t feel bad. I don’t want to feel bad. Ever. It came to my attention that the driving goal of my life is to be comfortable. In spite of hardship as a child, my mom always made sure I was comfortable.
There came a point, a most defining point, which marked my initiation into adulthood. It was when I acknowledged that this goal and my strategy for life were not working. Rejection and lack of control over various circumstances in one’s life are inevitable. As long as I try to prevent this, I will never be happy. I had to come up with a new strategy.
It was really very simple, but much harder to implement than it would seem at first glance. I chose to take responsibility for my own thoughts and actions. Life is in a perpetual state of change. People come and go. Careers fail. Love breathes new life. Winds change. My source of joy and contentment cannot be founded on circumstance. And it most certainly cannot be grounded in the approval of others. This most distinctly characterizes childhood. A child lives their life for pleasure; the ice cream truck, happy-meal toys, and birthday parties. If the ice cream man doesn’t come, they freely express their anger. An adult, on the other hand, takes deliberate control of his or her thoughts and actions. They understand that trials and discomfort are a part of the learning experience and make the joys of the mountain top worth the trip in the valley. But, like I said, after years of having the tides of circumstance and peoples’ approval toss my emotions to and fro, it is often still a challenge to make emotional independence a reality. It is a reality, however, that I am not willing to give up on. The joy I have come to experience when external forces have little bearing on my well-being has proven to be an enduring and stable source of comfort. It dispels the mediocre life and prompts vision and action, with little thought of disapproval from others.
For when has mediocrity ever resulted in greatness? When have dreams been achieved while avoiding disappointment or rejection? Those who make an impression on the world are those that are fearless. Adulthood is not without fear, but brave in spite of fears. Childhood cowers in the face of fear. Adulthood doesn’t settle for comfortable. It sees its limitations and does something to change it. Childhood waits for someone else to change things. Adulthood understands setbacks to be a source of learning and strength. Childhood crumbles under the weight of disappointment. Adulthood acknowledges that life is about more than its small piece of space. Childhood demands attention. Adulthood is more than your number of years. It is a claim of emotional independence. It is an intentional choice that accepts responsibility, takes action, endures momentary discomfort, and inspires greatness.
“This is the true joy of life: being used up for a purpose, recognized by yourself as a mighty one; being a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish little clot of ailments and grievances, complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.” -George Bernard Shaw
