My Why: Decisions
I've spent this week analyzing some "quirky" behaviors of mine as well as delving into the art of memoir, in an attempt to prepare for grad school (the memoir- the angst is just a bonus). And I came up with a story, or rather, family legend, that sort of illustrates a big part of my character:
When I was little enough to be really, really cute (which means just forming words and walking well), I encountered my first nemesis: a cat that roamed the halls and stairs of the apartment building I lived in with my parents (and probably my new bratty brother). I was reportedly terrified of this cat; so much so that I could not pass it on the stairs, but would screech at the top of my lungs until some sympathetic adult picked me up and carried me past the offensive and fearsome feline.
Now, my mother is a bird-like nurturer- she will kick your ass out of the nest if she needs to. After a few of these episodes, she decided I'd have to toughen up. So the next time we walked down the stairs and the cat sat there, flicking us disdainful glances as cats do, she kept walking, leaving me behind, crying and standing at the top of the steps. I couldn't move, and I couldn't get to my mother, so I cried until I realized that my mother was not coming back for me. And then I made my first conscious decision. I screwed my eyes closed real, real tight, reached out with both chubby hands, grabbed that damn cat by the tail, and flung it as far away from me as I could, then ran for my life down the steps and towards my proud mother, waiting just past the front door.
And now this is how I resolve conflict. Just let the fear build up until you have no choice but to grab the cat by the tail and fling it into the distance. And then, run.
Gee whiz. I'm a human pressure cooker.
When I was little enough to be really, really cute (which means just forming words and walking well), I encountered my first nemesis: a cat that roamed the halls and stairs of the apartment building I lived in with my parents (and probably my new bratty brother). I was reportedly terrified of this cat; so much so that I could not pass it on the stairs, but would screech at the top of my lungs until some sympathetic adult picked me up and carried me past the offensive and fearsome feline.
Now, my mother is a bird-like nurturer- she will kick your ass out of the nest if she needs to. After a few of these episodes, she decided I'd have to toughen up. So the next time we walked down the stairs and the cat sat there, flicking us disdainful glances as cats do, she kept walking, leaving me behind, crying and standing at the top of the steps. I couldn't move, and I couldn't get to my mother, so I cried until I realized that my mother was not coming back for me. And then I made my first conscious decision. I screwed my eyes closed real, real tight, reached out with both chubby hands, grabbed that damn cat by the tail, and flung it as far away from me as I could, then ran for my life down the steps and towards my proud mother, waiting just past the front door.
And now this is how I resolve conflict. Just let the fear build up until you have no choice but to grab the cat by the tail and fling it into the distance. And then, run.
Gee whiz. I'm a human pressure cooker.