The job of a daughter is thankless. The job of a sister is thankless too.
There is no other way of articulating what I mean aside from the above.I don’t mean to say that I want to be thanked. No, that’s not it at all; that is most definitely not it. Furthermore, being a daughter and sister is not a job.
When and if I cry or show emotion that includes pining, referred to by the fictional Emily Gilmore of Gilmore Girls as a “young woman’s melancholia,” or nostalgia, I’m decidedly referred to as, and I quote, “a psycho.”
I guess you could say that this is the modern equivalent to the yesteryear phenomenon of referring to the opinions of a woman as “hysterics” and thereby diagnosing her with “hysteria.”
When and if I am strong, including the times when I talk back or disallow my male relative to lift a heavy bag because I am more than capable of lifting it myself, I am referred to as, and I quote, “an ingrate.”
I guess you could say that this is the modern equivalent to the yesteryear phenomenon of women, who are inherently the weaker sex, intentionally stirring up dramatics.
So here I stand, knocked around from side to side, bopped here and there, but always standing. My knees don’t give way beneath me.
Yesterday I prayed for you, you, and you, but today I needed to take the time out to pray for me. So I did.
I don’t think this is selfish. On the contrary, I think it is selfish of everyone who I had done for, not to do for me. It’s not tit for tat. Instead, it is the natural way for life to progress. You could think of a circle; something cyclic.
I’m told that I should stay happy always, smile always, and take things that bother me very lightly. Just let it pass over you, they say.
You and I both know that I’m not my only competition.
But why is it that you cannot do the same? Why is it that rain dampened not only your frizz-prone hair that day, but also your mood, and in turn, my mood too?
Couldn’t you take nature lightly? Was the three hour and sometimes less drive too major? I cannot help but think that the large machine which we call a plane set to make the little over two hour trip will be just as much as a hassle for you as was the drive.
I want to say that that is a shame, but I’m not one to reprimand for the most normal and human of functions, such as stress.
Well, I have a new stress and that is one of blasphemy: I didn’t realize that the almighty resided amongst only those who don white coats.
I’m told I have, and I quote, “the problem,” not a problem.
I have the problem of being the girl I guess. You know what I am referring to - that girl. The creative girl who pursues the liberal arts. The girl who has to placate the male ego that has a temper.
I have this habit of referring to myself as a girl, having a late reaction, and then quickly referring to myself as a woman.
You know, that woman who ditched the robe for the less fussy towel wrapped around her modesty when exiting the family bathroom post-shower.
The irony of all of this is that when the woman’s characteristic silhouette becomes less pronounced, she’s reprimanded once more. This time, by others just as much as herself.
It’s stress they say. It’s stress, I stress to them. We’re on the same page now.
Here’s to good times once more.