When I was a little kid, I remember not understanding how a blind person couldn't force him or herself to just see. I thought to myself, if my legs didn't work, I would make them! I definitely recognize that a large part of this was due to the fact that I was a little kid and I was fortunate enough to be able to see and hear and walk, etc. I didn't understand how something that came automatically to me might not to others. But the other part of this is that when you are a child, before you've begun to compare yourself or to let your pride and/or vanity get in the way of doing things that maybe you're not so great at but that you enjoyed, you believe with all your heart that there is nothing in this great big world that you can't do. I do believe another part that may play into this is the fact that I used to believe I could do anything.
My dad used sit me on his lap and let me "drive" when I was four or five. I believed that I was a prodigy. I was the world's best (and first) four-year-old driver in the world as far as I was concerned. I also used to sing and dance in front of everyone in my Kindergarten class, without fear of ridicule or looking funny. As far as I was concerned, none of my classmates had my moves or could touch my ability to belt out a song from Annie. I strutted around toyshelves and the art center and our cubbies thinking I was the biggest bad-ass these five-year-olds had ever seen. When I found out that we were putting on a production of Annie, I knew I had the lead role in the bag. So, when my teacher announced that Annie would be played by some two-bit daughter of the PTA president, I was deflated. I was given the role of orphan. ORPHAN! I had no lines of my own, nothing that would allow me to stand out just a little on that stage. I sunk to the back with my friend, Maria, and we zoned out and disengaged from all that was going on. I remember Sister Enez yelled at us once because everyone had moved on to another scene and Maria and I were still mechanically "scrubbing the floor" whilst staring into space. Point is: screw them.
From pre-school up until the fall of fourth of grade, I went to Catholic school. It was a nice little school where kids were pretty much kids but no one lived in my neighborhood and that made it hard. Eventually, this wore on me (and the high cost wore on my folks) and it was decided that I would switch to public school. First day there, I realized that I was way ahead of where they were and once again, I thought about how smart I was and how special and fabulous. But pretty soon, we began entering into new territory, things got challenging and I started to shrink back, taking up an almost permanent residence in lala land. As a teacher, I can say that is one of the things that annoys me the most; when a kid is constantly daydreaming in class and has no idea what I say, like ever. I was that kid. Once there was a challenge or a hurdle of any kind, I fell back and hid from it.
Where does this come from??? Well, for one thing, there's the little reason being my upbringing. My parents weren't one for pushing us to perservere or give things a chance. When I was five, I took ballet and tap. One day a few months in, I announced to my mother that I didn't want to go back because the basement smelled. There was no talk of sticking with it or giving it a certain amount of time. She simply said, "ok" and I was free of ballet and tap. When I was in fourth grade, I convinced my mother to rent me a clarinet. I practiced until it got hard and then I buried it in my closet and those days were over. Also in fourth grade, I took karate. For two weeks, I was convinced I would love it and would become a black belt and beat the crap out of the bigger boys at my school. Well, after a few weeks, it got harder, I got "bored" and so announced to my mom that I would no longer like to take karate. Excuse? Too hard. Now that was the chance! Too hard?! Who the fuck did I think I was? I was this lazy, bratty eight year old calling all the shots when it came to my life and what eight year old, when given the chance, will make good decisions for themselves, I ask you? Maybe a few will, but I certainly opted for the easy way out. Always. An eight year old who learns that the way out is to say something is too hard is like a robber learning about a mansion loaded with goods with broken locks... game ON.
I am not blaming my mom. It may seem like it, but the thing is, my folks did the best they could. Please, four kids by the time they were in their early thirties, dealing with a single income and a mortgage. And we weren't the easiest of kids; screaming, fighting, throwing, breaking, crying, all with our unique set of ways of dealing with crap... my mom probably was thinking, "fine, I don't feel like driving your scrawny ass over there anyway! I've got to cook, pay bills, help with homework, fight with Dad... I'm busy as fuck!" But, I never did learn that lesson as a child. We never really learned the value of perserverence, and specifically, exercise early on, which is why the minute my muscles start to tremble or I have to stay in a plank position for longer than a few seconds, my immediate reaction is: "I can't; it's so hard!" and I'll fall into child's pose. It's embarassing, really.
Tonight, I went to a Vinyasa Flow class and in the beginning, I was breaking poses and that little voice in my head was saying, "I can't! It's really uncomfortable and hard and it hurts!" but something switched in my brain about halfway through where I knew that if I did it, did what the teacher wanted me to do to the best of my ability, I would grow just a little bit from pushing myself, I'd leave there feeling more proud of myself than if I gave up, and I would feel better about coming back next time. So, that drove me to get through the rest of the class with the knowledge that I can...
Because, really, that strutting, can't-touch-this, five year old is still kicking around somewhere inside me. Inside me, somewhere, is the thought, I CAN DO WHATEVER THE FUCK I WANT AND WHAT I WANT IS TO KICK ASS!! I don't want to kick somebody's ass... just life's.
Because when all is said and done, in the words of my hero, Annie, it's a hard-knock life but the sun'll always come out tomorrow. And when that sun comes out, I want to have the most killer mind and body in the world! Or at least in my neighborhood.
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