To my mother
It just occurred to me that I’m trapped. I know what you’re thinking: What are you talking about? Well, let me tell you exactly what I mean.
I’ve been trapped my whole entire life. I can’t escape the expectations you hold me to. I can’t escape the four year old girl who was struggling to write so much more than was my capacity at the time. I can’t escape the eight year old who danced just for you. I can’t escape the twelve year old who held up our family while you drowned in depression so deep that you still haven’t surfaced.
I’ve been trapped by so much that I’m afraid of what will happen this September when I leave for college. You won’t be there to tell me that I need to try harder. You won’t be there to tell me that a B isn’t good enough. You won’t be there for me to see. I won’t be able to see the standards you’ve set for your ‘brilliant poet daughter’. I’ll have to make my own. And I don’t know if I can do that with much success.
I’ve been trapped. And I’ll remain trapped while I try and break free.
I try to talk to you about my fears and my problems. You say they’re unfounded. You say I have nothing to worry about. After all, you know I can make it. You’ve always told me I can do what I wanted, that I had that power. Now, even though I know exactly what my life should be like, I can’t shake this feeling that I won’t be able to achieve it. I won’t be good enough to get where I want to be.
This is what traps me. My fear of failure. My strive for perfection. I’m trapped by my fear of trying and losing everything important in my life. Can’t you understand? Can’t you see what’s happened to me? My whole life has been about being perfect for you. And I can’t bear the thought of not being perfect for myself. I can’t bear the thought that I was only perfect for you and I’m not perfect enough to get what I want for myself.
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