Memoir: Final Draft

“You know, your teeth are kind of crooked,” I said to my babysitter, Maria, at around the age of six or seven. Maria was my idol, but I remember ‘crossing the line’ as a child and learning what was and was not appropriate. We messed around and play fought a lot but sometimes when she really had to pee I sat on her belly, directly above her bladder, and I not only made her have to pee more, but I physically impeded her from going to the bathroom. I never thought that this particular situation might seem ‘not okay’ or ‘inappropriate.’ To me it was just extremely funny: I saw no boundaries. When I told her blatantly honest, but harmful things, I had no concept of what was offensive or impolite, it was just facts. Every once in awhile she conducted a short, stern talk, but she was understanding as I slowly learned. I loved being silly and she loved me.

Additionally, little kids will lie. They will lie about the candy they ate before dinner, they will lie about the number of hours spent watching TV, and they most definitely will lie about whether or not they brushed their teeth before bed. However, although it is unfavorable to exercise the frustrating interrogation that follows a child’s lie, often times it is when they tell the truth that the most damage is done. Children can be brutally honest because of their complete lack of awareness regarding societal norms, and unfortunately, before I could ever be the one to receive this blunt kind of honesty, I was the one giving it. However, as I have become older, I have been on the receiving end on far more than one occasion.

“You’re really pretty.” I looked down at a seven-year-old girl’s cheerful face beaming up at me. “Aw that’s so sweet, but you are the prettiest!” I told her. “…But you have a bunch of bumps on your face, why do you have that?” Her words hit like a jab to the side. Another instance was when we were sitting on the couch watching a movie while I let her play with my hair. Sometimes she climbed around on my shoulders or grabbed onto my arms. On this particular occasion she was grabbing onto my arms, and unconcerned with the implications of her words, said to me,“You have jiggly arms like my mom,” and then proceeded to play with my arm. I responded awkwardly with a forced smile and suggested we keep watching the movie. She was just seven years old, and yet, had managed to pick out every single one of my insecurities, oblivious to the searing impact it had on my very young and fragile mind. I had to remind myself that I was the mature one now at age seventeen, which was a good thing. She was just a kid.

Nevertheless, eventually there comes a time in life when you realize that you have made ‘the switch’ from being a child to being somewhat of an adult, whether it’s gradual or all of a sudden. Sometimes there are blurred lines which make it difficult to operate as a person because you want the freedom of childhood without the pressures of adulthood; the privileges of age but not the consequences. Soon you learn to think critically instead of irrationally, and this switch happened all of a sudden for me. I knew I wasn’t a kid anymore when middle school came along and I realized that I was, indeed, in charge of my future. I knew I wasn’t a kid anymore when I got my driver’s license and learned what it meant to be responsible for my own life and the lives of those around me. I learned I wasn’t a kid anymore when I went from having a babysitter to being the babysitter.

When asked the question, “what do you want to be when you grow up?”, the younger you are, typically, the more outrageous the answer. At seven years old, when asked the question, my answer was very simple, “I wanted to be a tiger.” At the time, this idea didn’t seem so far out of the realm of possibility for me, but as I got older, it went from being a tiger, to being a triple threat, to not knowing what the hell I wanted to be, to being a filmmaker, to being a therapist, my current aspiration. But when you are little, whatever the answer to this question may be, actually attaining that dream seems like lifetimes away. In the moment of answering this simple question, you can’t actually grasp the notion that one day you will legitimately be an adult. There have been many instances in which I have recalled and written about a specific experience from when I was around sixteen or seventeen, walking down one of those extremely steep streets in San Francisco. A mother with her daughter, of around 8 or 9 years old, approached from the opposite direction. I did not take notice until they grew closer and I sensed the obvious pull of the woman as she cautiously tugged her daughter in close, and fast as they passed. This woman did not see me as the kid I felt to be, even at 16 or 17 I still knew how much of a kid I was, regardless of my obvious teenage angst. Instead, she took one look at me, and in a split second she processed that I was a potential threat to her child. This freaked me out that the world could even see me in that way. I am currently 19, far passed the age of 18, the legal age of adulthood, and I still do not even feel close to being an “adult”. Honestly, I don’t really know what it means to be an adult, only the responsibilities and expectations that come with it.

Currently, I find myself in a state of bewilderment. Throughout the majority of my life, things involving growing up always seemed to be forevers away, but now I find myself in my second year of college. College has always been one of those things you know you will eventually have to do but never think you will actually get around to doing it. The future always seems so far away until you are actually experiencing it, and I am freaked out! They say that the older you get, the faster life goes, and I can already feel myself catching up to my future because it feels closer than ever. One day I will blink and be ten, twenty years older, wondering where all the time went.

I believe that realizations such as this, and the experiences I’ve had so far have almost retaught me about what it means to truly think about how what I say and do impacts my life and influences those around me. These days I try to think critically when deciding how to respond and react to the little girl looking up at me who knew nothing about the effect of her words. I think critically when I flip on the turn signal and check my blind spot. I think critically when I choose how to balance my time and distinguish between what will further help me to succeed in the future and what will hold me back. I remember how much I looked up to my babysitter, and now I know that a huge part of growing up is also learning how to be a leader and role model to others. I am who I am because of those who shaped me, so now I am ready to do the same for others.