First grade always stands out in my memory. I can’t remember who I spoke to on the phone five minutes ago but I sure as hell can remember first grade. I became an avid reader and started writing that year. This is when I learned I had an aptitude for telling stories. I also had a fantastic, well-educated, extremely articulate and intelligent teacher. She made a long-lasting impression, and no teacher I had thereafter has ever compared. Little wonder I recall so much from that particular time in grade school. Course, it wasn’t all good. That was also the year I learned about validation or lack thereof. It was an election year and the elementary staff decided to host its own poll in respects to the national election. We were given a choice of
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Whether it was a viewpoint or how I felt, there always seemed to follow a disparaging voice and negative commentary. For some individuals this would be a lesson in speaking up, to voice their opinion regardless of the reception. For yours truly, I learned over the years to be quiet. I learned to not say anything for fear of disrupting someone else’s view or thoughts. Don’t rock the boat, Royer! was my silent motto. The few times I dared to hold an opposing viewpoint, to speak up; oh did I pay for that opposing view! You swallow enough of your own thoughts, sentiments and views over time, it starts to do wonky things to you. Sudden outbursts, like a kettle left tight on the stove, leave you feeling crazy, especially when they go entirely unnoticed. You wonder if you were talking at all or had the whole world just conveniently gone …show more content…
You take a deep breath and don’t feel like such a monstrous failure. Other times you feel that slow claw of panic inside your head when the therapist asks you back to the office. Is this the moment? Is this where they say you failed as a parent? You are the one at fault! Other times you wonder who is to blame. You WANT someone to blame and you will kill them.
You know, it is really hard to sit in a therapist’s office, knowing the drill because you studied it, you went to school for this exact thing, but can’t seem to help your own child. You can barely get yourself through each and every day but you do so for your kids. They are the ones depending on you. You are more times than not their only voice in this crazy world. So you sit and listen with your hands neatly folded on your lap. You wipe away the single tear crawling down the side of your face and openly blame the lights in the room. Why in the world does this woman have so many lights in her small office anyway?
“Well, today she did really good,” the therapist says on one visit. “No mention of
Whether it was a viewpoint or how I felt, there always seemed to follow a disparaging voice and negative commentary. For some individuals this would be a lesson in speaking up, to voice their opinion regardless of the reception. For yours truly, I learned over the years to be quiet. I learned to not say anything for fear of disrupting someone else’s view or thoughts. Don’t rock the boat, Royer! was my silent motto. The few times I dared to hold an opposing viewpoint, to speak up; oh did I pay for that opposing view! You swallow enough of your own thoughts, sentiments and views over time, it starts to do wonky things to you. Sudden outbursts, like a kettle left tight on the stove, leave you feeling crazy, especially when they go entirely unnoticed. You wonder if you were talking at all or had the whole world just conveniently gone …show more content…
You take a deep breath and don’t feel like such a monstrous failure. Other times you feel that slow claw of panic inside your head when the therapist asks you back to the office. Is this the moment? Is this where they say you failed as a parent? You are the one at fault! Other times you wonder who is to blame. You WANT someone to blame and you will kill them.
You know, it is really hard to sit in a therapist’s office, knowing the drill because you studied it, you went to school for this exact thing, but can’t seem to help your own child. You can barely get yourself through each and every day but you do so for your kids. They are the ones depending on you. You are more times than not their only voice in this crazy world. So you sit and listen with your hands neatly folded on your lap. You wipe away the single tear crawling down the side of your face and openly blame the lights in the room. Why in the world does this woman have so many lights in her small office anyway?
“Well, today she did really good,” the therapist says on one visit. “No mention of