Blogging note: A majority of this post was written during the last day of 2015. I put it "away" to proof-read later and then time and life happened and I didn't get to it. Better late than never.
It is the final days of the 365 challenge. I sit here listening to the soundtrack I created for my life and reminisce. What has been the most defining moment of my life? Was there a moment, that if it did not happen, would have resulted in a totally different outcome? A moment that would have resulted in my writing this post in a different locale or in a different house or maybe my not writing something at all?
This challenge took a lot of reflection, comparing and contrasting. I have finally made a decision as to what I am going to write about......
The defining moment in my life was a comment my parents made when I was 2 or 3 years old. It was a simple statement of fact, it was not something that was intended to dwell upon, but for me it ended up being life altering.
What could they have said to a toddler that could be so profound?
"You were supposed to be a boy." (I am sure that is not how they phrased it, but it the version my brain retained.)
See my parents had a plan. Their first child was a girl. The next one should be a boy. They would then have had a complete child set and could retire from the baby making game. But I wasn't a boy... I was a girl, so it was back to the bump and grind of trying to secure a male heir.
My parents never held my lack of maleness against me.... but I did. Such a simple statement of fact ended up getting warped and was eventually transformed into things that my parents never meant to imply-
- I disappointed them.
- I could not get anything right.
- Boys are better than girls... why else would they want a boy when they already had two perfectly great children.
These faulty thought patterns seemed to take on a life of their own. I wanted to fix it. After much deliberation I hit upon the perfect solution- if I was more "boy like" my parents would be happier (keep in mind I was three years old when I came up with this solution so be gentle with your judgment)
That was it!!!!
That would make everything better!!!!!!
Decision made; I threw myself into my new role of "boy".
That was it!!!!
That would make everything better!!!!!!
Decision made; I threw myself into my new role of "boy".
- I cultivated my HATRED of the colour pink..... blue was my colour.
- Kittens were for girls... kittens were now on the hate list.... I was all about the dogs.
- Girls sat and played quietly. That was not for me... I developed my climbing skills. No tree, fence or wall were too high or safe from my clambering form. I remember getting into trouble for climbing the chair "tree" I had constructed for the sole purpose of exiting via the basement window.
- Girls were demure. I awakened my inner daredevil- experimenting with electricity, using straight razors like the adults, doing flips off the top bunk, trees, monkey bars.... really anything that one could flip off of... I flipped off of.
- I rebelled against anything indicative of feminine attire. My poor mother liked to dress my sister and me in homemade matchy, matchy dresses. I started refusing to wear dresses. When I was forced to wear one, I would come up with some excuse to wear jeans underneath- "My legs are cold!" "It's going to cramp my monkey bar escapades! How can I hang upside down?" It took a few years but my mother eventually gave up forcing dresses on me.
- Girls liked playing with dolls..... bring on the trucks!
By the time I was 5 years old I had fully transformed into a "tom" boy. Unfortunately all my efforts to reinvent myself were all for nought.
My brother arrived.
I remember feeling like I had failed. If I had been better at being a "boy" my parents wouldn't have had to have my brother.
It was all over!!!!!!!!
The parents finally got what they wanted... a boy. They now have a girl and a boy.... that made me what??????? Spare parts?????
The birth of my brother brought a new resolve- I would prove to my parents that girls were just as good as boys.... Yah right!!!! I was 4 years old and even then I had perfectionist tendencies so I wasn't aiming for 50/50 I was aiming for 110%.
Over the years I have dropped the competition factor and am a champion for equality for all. But, it was this need to prove that I was better than any boy that influence the path a travelled to get to this point in my life.
This quest fostered the development of my:
My brother arrived.
I remember feeling like I had failed. If I had been better at being a "boy" my parents wouldn't have had to have my brother.
It was all over!!!!!!!!
The parents finally got what they wanted... a boy. They now have a girl and a boy.... that made me what??????? Spare parts?????
The birth of my brother brought a new resolve- I would prove to my parents that girls were just as good as boys.... Yah right!!!! I was 4 years old and even then I had perfectionist tendencies so I wasn't aiming for 50/50 I was aiming for 110%.
Over the years I have dropped the competition factor and am a champion for equality for all. But, it was this need to prove that I was better than any boy that influence the path a travelled to get to this point in my life.
This quest fostered the development of my:
Persistence- One of the surest ways to get me to dig in my heels is to tell me I can't do something. That type of rhetoric fuels me. I remember one year purchased a huge 8 foot scotch pine for my Christmas tree. It took up a 1/4 of a very large room- at room that became know as the tree room as nothing else would fit in it. I cut the tree down. I loaded and unloaded it on the truck. Bound it so it would get through the door and once it was inside I started to put it up. There was one problem- It would not stay up. It kept falling. I could not centre it, hold it and screw in the bolts of the tree stand. I was on the phone lamenting to my mother when she said- "Ask one of your guy friends to come and help. You need a man to help you!"
NOOOOOOooooooooooo!
Picture it. I am under the tree bracing the trunk with one foot, the other hooked around the tree stand to stabilize it. I am hold the tree upright with my left arm while I contort my body so that I could sink the bolts of the base into the tree trunk. Then I proceeded to anchor the tree to the wall using as system of ropes and nails. No man needed!
Victory!
Fight-A-Tude
I do not hold stock that women should let others protect them. Why rely on others when you can do it yourself. I can pack a punch and scrap with the best of them, especially when others are being unjust to those who cannot defend themselves. I am smart enough to use my verbal skills first but if it is "Go time", I will do my best to take the other person down.
I remember the Christmas my cousin got a set of red leather boxing gloves. He challenged me to a match. I don't think he was expecting the pounding that I laid on him. I'm sure he was thinking it was going to be a friendly little spar. He didn't realize that I had a lot riding on the outcome. This "match" was being witnessed by all the adult males in my life and what a better time to prove that girls can do anything boys can do. I remember looking around the room at the end and seeing the look of disbelief and dare I say it pride on the faces of my dad and Grandpa.
When I entered University I was always irritated by the well intentioned advice being offered by the boys- "You went where, at night by yourself!!!!! You should take one of us with you next time. It is dangerous for a lone female to walk on campus at 2 am." I think I proved that I could take care of myself the night the guys decided to tub the girls..... tubbing by the way is where a tub is filled with water and you get unceremoniously dumped in.
A friend had been targeted as the next tubbing victim. She didn't want to be tubbed so I tackled the guy who was trying to move her, which allowed her to escape. Now I was the target for a tubbing. Dude grabbed me from behind and pinned my arms to my side. He tried to carry me through the door of the lounge, down the hall, but I stopped his progress by bracing my feet on either side of the doorframe. He tried again and again, I blocked progress every time. It dawned on him that this approach was not going to work so he turned around to back out the doorway. He wasn't prepared for me using my legs to push off on the door frame on the other side (who says watching wrestling doesn't provide useful life skills). He toppled over backward and cushioned my fall. Sadly, tubbing me switched from being a challenge for one to a challenge for many- four more guys swooped in, all focused making sure I was dunked in that frickin' tub. I did not make it easy for them, kicking and clawing all the way down the hall. I even managed to get away once. In the end I got tubbed but the dudes were rewarded for their effort with numerous bruises and muscle strains. There was no mention of my need for a male escort after that incident. I guess the guys decided I could protect myself.
A Short Term Farmer-
I think my Dad was excited by my brother's arrival as he finally had someone to pass the legacy of farming down to. As soon as my brother was tall enough to touch the clutch and see over the steering wheel he was expected to go out to the farm with my dad. My brother hated it! He liked to sleep in and play video games. Sitting in a tractor covered with grease and grime was neither of these things. I asked to learn how to drive the tractor and was told in no uncertain terms " No." My dad was perfectly okay with me tagging along to shovel grain..... it saved him having to get into the grain bin and from climbing on top of the grain truck to roll out the tarp but that was the extent he was willing to allow me to participate in the process.
For years, weekend mornings would look like this- My brother sitting at the kitchen table gloomy staring into his bowl of Cheerios' and me glaring at him irritated that he got to go and I didn't. I was well into my university years when I took matters into my own hands. I asked my brother to teach me how to drive the tractor and use the cultivator. He gladly agreed, as he realized this might be his ticket out of having to go to the farm. Once my dad realized I could do ground work he gave me lessons in seeding. The timing could not be better as the family was farming both set of grandparents land, so help was needed. I farmed with my dad and brother for two years before moving. It was a great two years.
A Champion of Equality
There was one thing that irked me when I was younger and that was the assumption that because I was a girl my purpose was to cook and clean. My dad's friends would make comments about when I got older I would get married and have children and be a stay at home mom. I looked at them and boldly said- "If I ever have children, I will continue to work, my husband can stay at home with the kids." They got a hoot out of that one.
I remember my Grandpa J commenting- "You'll never get a husband if you can't cook." My response- "If all that a guy wants is my cooking... I don't want him!" I abstained from using cooking skills for a long time... because I am ornery like that!
As I mentioned I farmed with my dad and brother. My dad was of a similar opinion as my grandfather. A man does not cook if there was a woman around who could do it. In fact he drove from the farm house out to the far field to tell me that it was lunch time and that he would take over seeding so I could go in and make us all some lunch.
I was furious.....
He had just been mere steps from the house and could have easily gone in and made lunch for everyone. He could have drove over to my brother who was closer and told him to go in to make lunch.... but no... I was the best person to make lunch.
I fumed all the way back to the house. I fumed while I made their stinking sandwiches.... I was too mad to eat. I was ready to punch something or someone by the time I was done...... a Tornado of fury and indignation. As I was leaving the house the damn bagels fell out of the bag and landed in the dirt.
I went into Rumpelstiltskin mode, ranting and raving.... there was even some frenetic jumping up and down. Now I would have to make more FUCKIN' sandwiches!
Or would I....
I experienced a moment of calm and clarity. I through out the bagel top that could not be salvaged and decided it was time for a little Russian Roulette- bagel style. I washed the cold cuts as best as I could under the stream of water from the water jug.... did I mention there was no running water in the house. I scraped off the mustard that was black with dirt and if less then a 1/4 of the bagel was affected i.e. dingy grey I reused it. Hmmmm...... nothing more mustard can't cover. I placed the bagels back in the bag with the clean ones not he bottom and the two "5 second rule" bagels on the top. When I reached the field my brother and my dad were waiting.
"What took you so long?" they asked
"I had a hard time washing the grease off my hands." I said.
On the drive over I had decided that I would let fate decide who got the affected bagels. If they both said- "You pick first... you made them." I would eat the top bagel. You can probably guess but there was no chivalry there. The pecking order they decided to go with was.... Dad- he won the grittiest bagel; My brother- Mr. Hint o' Grit and then me.
Spectacular!!! Anger was immediately replaced with euphoria.
My dad made a face and commented on the earthiness of his bagel. I countered with " Have you seen the inside of the Nissan; of course the bagels got dirty during transport." and that was the end of it. My brother never noticed or if he did he was wise enough to keep it to himself.
While we were eating I told my brother and dad that I had no intention of being their cook and maid all weekend. The only fair solution was we each took turns making meals. They agreed. Of course, their turns consisted of calling for take-out from town, but the meal preparation duties were equally divided so I did not care.... much.
(If you hear a loud noise after reading this section, don't panic. It's just my Dad yelling "I KNEW IT!!!". Until this point I have denied, denied, denied. Daddy please consider this confession part of your early birthday present)
Resilience
Growing up I often felt like I was not enough. Overshadowed by my siblings. I was the "Jan" of the bunch, the middle of the middle, and it was not such a "Brady" feeling. There was no happy resolution after 30 minutes of time. I collected examples of how my siblings mattered more to my parents and used these examples as proof that my assumptions were correct. How my brother got to have "adventures" with dad; how my parents had vastly different reactions to my and my older sisters performance in school, etc, etc, etc.
The thing is, there are no shortage of examples to prove a point, especially when you are specifically looking for them. I was looking for ways to prove that I was not as loved and guess what? I found them. I could have just as easily looked for examples of how I was loved, which there were many, but that was not what I chose to do.
I could have wallowed and spent my life focusing on what I perceived as unfair, but I didn't. I worked and worked and worked- on improving my abilities and my knowledge. I reflected on what went well and what I could have done differently and I adapted......I grew and I matured.
What if my parents had not told me they were expecting me to be a boy?
What if I had not interpreted their simple statement the way I did or as I grew older I had asked them if my interpretation was correct?
Would I be who I am today???
I don't know.
All I can do is pay homage to my past and move forward knowing that I am enough, that I have the skills I need and I will thrive no matter what.
Thanks Mom and Dad for your unintended slip of the tongue! It brought a whole bunch of interesting life lessons my way and helped develop some kick ass foundational skills.
NOOOOOOooooooooooo!
Picture it. I am under the tree bracing the trunk with one foot, the other hooked around the tree stand to stabilize it. I am hold the tree upright with my left arm while I contort my body so that I could sink the bolts of the base into the tree trunk. Then I proceeded to anchor the tree to the wall using as system of ropes and nails. No man needed!
Victory!
Fight-A-Tude
I do not hold stock that women should let others protect them. Why rely on others when you can do it yourself. I can pack a punch and scrap with the best of them, especially when others are being unjust to those who cannot defend themselves. I am smart enough to use my verbal skills first but if it is "Go time", I will do my best to take the other person down.
I remember the Christmas my cousin got a set of red leather boxing gloves. He challenged me to a match. I don't think he was expecting the pounding that I laid on him. I'm sure he was thinking it was going to be a friendly little spar. He didn't realize that I had a lot riding on the outcome. This "match" was being witnessed by all the adult males in my life and what a better time to prove that girls can do anything boys can do. I remember looking around the room at the end and seeing the look of disbelief and dare I say it pride on the faces of my dad and Grandpa.
When I entered University I was always irritated by the well intentioned advice being offered by the boys- "You went where, at night by yourself!!!!! You should take one of us with you next time. It is dangerous for a lone female to walk on campus at 2 am." I think I proved that I could take care of myself the night the guys decided to tub the girls..... tubbing by the way is where a tub is filled with water and you get unceremoniously dumped in.
A friend had been targeted as the next tubbing victim. She didn't want to be tubbed so I tackled the guy who was trying to move her, which allowed her to escape. Now I was the target for a tubbing. Dude grabbed me from behind and pinned my arms to my side. He tried to carry me through the door of the lounge, down the hall, but I stopped his progress by bracing my feet on either side of the doorframe. He tried again and again, I blocked progress every time. It dawned on him that this approach was not going to work so he turned around to back out the doorway. He wasn't prepared for me using my legs to push off on the door frame on the other side (who says watching wrestling doesn't provide useful life skills). He toppled over backward and cushioned my fall. Sadly, tubbing me switched from being a challenge for one to a challenge for many- four more guys swooped in, all focused making sure I was dunked in that frickin' tub. I did not make it easy for them, kicking and clawing all the way down the hall. I even managed to get away once. In the end I got tubbed but the dudes were rewarded for their effort with numerous bruises and muscle strains. There was no mention of my need for a male escort after that incident. I guess the guys decided I could protect myself.
A Short Term Farmer-
I think my Dad was excited by my brother's arrival as he finally had someone to pass the legacy of farming down to. As soon as my brother was tall enough to touch the clutch and see over the steering wheel he was expected to go out to the farm with my dad. My brother hated it! He liked to sleep in and play video games. Sitting in a tractor covered with grease and grime was neither of these things. I asked to learn how to drive the tractor and was told in no uncertain terms " No." My dad was perfectly okay with me tagging along to shovel grain..... it saved him having to get into the grain bin and from climbing on top of the grain truck to roll out the tarp but that was the extent he was willing to allow me to participate in the process.
For years, weekend mornings would look like this- My brother sitting at the kitchen table gloomy staring into his bowl of Cheerios' and me glaring at him irritated that he got to go and I didn't. I was well into my university years when I took matters into my own hands. I asked my brother to teach me how to drive the tractor and use the cultivator. He gladly agreed, as he realized this might be his ticket out of having to go to the farm. Once my dad realized I could do ground work he gave me lessons in seeding. The timing could not be better as the family was farming both set of grandparents land, so help was needed. I farmed with my dad and brother for two years before moving. It was a great two years.
A Champion of Equality
There was one thing that irked me when I was younger and that was the assumption that because I was a girl my purpose was to cook and clean. My dad's friends would make comments about when I got older I would get married and have children and be a stay at home mom. I looked at them and boldly said- "If I ever have children, I will continue to work, my husband can stay at home with the kids." They got a hoot out of that one.
I remember my Grandpa J commenting- "You'll never get a husband if you can't cook." My response- "If all that a guy wants is my cooking... I don't want him!" I abstained from using cooking skills for a long time... because I am ornery like that!
As I mentioned I farmed with my dad and brother. My dad was of a similar opinion as my grandfather. A man does not cook if there was a woman around who could do it. In fact he drove from the farm house out to the far field to tell me that it was lunch time and that he would take over seeding so I could go in and make us all some lunch.
I was furious.....
He had just been mere steps from the house and could have easily gone in and made lunch for everyone. He could have drove over to my brother who was closer and told him to go in to make lunch.... but no... I was the best person to make lunch.
I fumed all the way back to the house. I fumed while I made their stinking sandwiches.... I was too mad to eat. I was ready to punch something or someone by the time I was done...... a Tornado of fury and indignation. As I was leaving the house the damn bagels fell out of the bag and landed in the dirt.
I went into Rumpelstiltskin mode, ranting and raving.... there was even some frenetic jumping up and down. Now I would have to make more FUCKIN' sandwiches!
Or would I....
I experienced a moment of calm and clarity. I through out the bagel top that could not be salvaged and decided it was time for a little Russian Roulette- bagel style. I washed the cold cuts as best as I could under the stream of water from the water jug.... did I mention there was no running water in the house. I scraped off the mustard that was black with dirt and if less then a 1/4 of the bagel was affected i.e. dingy grey I reused it. Hmmmm...... nothing more mustard can't cover. I placed the bagels back in the bag with the clean ones not he bottom and the two "5 second rule" bagels on the top. When I reached the field my brother and my dad were waiting.
"What took you so long?" they asked
"I had a hard time washing the grease off my hands." I said.
On the drive over I had decided that I would let fate decide who got the affected bagels. If they both said- "You pick first... you made them." I would eat the top bagel. You can probably guess but there was no chivalry there. The pecking order they decided to go with was.... Dad- he won the grittiest bagel; My brother- Mr. Hint o' Grit and then me.
Spectacular!!! Anger was immediately replaced with euphoria.
My dad made a face and commented on the earthiness of his bagel. I countered with " Have you seen the inside of the Nissan; of course the bagels got dirty during transport." and that was the end of it. My brother never noticed or if he did he was wise enough to keep it to himself.
While we were eating I told my brother and dad that I had no intention of being their cook and maid all weekend. The only fair solution was we each took turns making meals. They agreed. Of course, their turns consisted of calling for take-out from town, but the meal preparation duties were equally divided so I did not care.... much.
(If you hear a loud noise after reading this section, don't panic. It's just my Dad yelling "I KNEW IT!!!". Until this point I have denied, denied, denied. Daddy please consider this confession part of your early birthday present)
Resilience
Growing up I often felt like I was not enough. Overshadowed by my siblings. I was the "Jan" of the bunch, the middle of the middle, and it was not such a "Brady" feeling. There was no happy resolution after 30 minutes of time. I collected examples of how my siblings mattered more to my parents and used these examples as proof that my assumptions were correct. How my brother got to have "adventures" with dad; how my parents had vastly different reactions to my and my older sisters performance in school, etc, etc, etc.
The thing is, there are no shortage of examples to prove a point, especially when you are specifically looking for them. I was looking for ways to prove that I was not as loved and guess what? I found them. I could have just as easily looked for examples of how I was loved, which there were many, but that was not what I chose to do.
I could have wallowed and spent my life focusing on what I perceived as unfair, but I didn't. I worked and worked and worked- on improving my abilities and my knowledge. I reflected on what went well and what I could have done differently and I adapted......I grew and I matured.
What if my parents had not told me they were expecting me to be a boy?
What if I had not interpreted their simple statement the way I did or as I grew older I had asked them if my interpretation was correct?
Would I be who I am today???
I don't know.
All I can do is pay homage to my past and move forward knowing that I am enough, that I have the skills I need and I will thrive no matter what.
Thanks Mom and Dad for your unintended slip of the tongue! It brought a whole bunch of interesting life lessons my way and helped develop some kick ass foundational skills.
No comments:
Post a Comment