When I was a boy, I wasnât often seen. I was looked after, cared for. I was held and comforted, especially after some painful experience. But I wasnât often seen. I was a good boy when inside I wanted to rage. I tried hard, all the time, when inside I wanted not to care. I was compliant, and therefore complicit, in not being fully appreciated.
Related Quotes
I donât think that my actions changed in a way that prompted this; my position did. And what this meant was that things Iâd once been privy to became increasingly unavailable to me. Gradually, snarky behavior, grousing, and rudeness disappeared from view - from my view, anyway. I rarely saw bad behavior because people wouldnât exhibit it in front of me. I was out of a certain loop, and it was essential that I never lose sight of that fact. If I wasnât careful to be vigilant and self-aware, I might well draw the wrong conclusions.
As the second eldest, I was old enough to be aware of how difficult the situation was for my mum, and so I was the quietest. Sometimes, the person who is the best behaved receives the least attention and is the most overlooked. I tried to be good, not causing my mum any more grief, but in doing that I tended to make myself disappear. At home in England I was often subdued, but when we went to Jamaica I felt carefree and happy and able to express myself in a completely different way.
I did ache when I said goodbye to the friends Iâd made. I ached when I said goodbye to my grandparents, to my cousins, to my aunts, to my mother. I ached for lasting connection, for a place where rejection was not inevitable. No matter how many times I stood on bare floors, surrounded by blank walls, telling myself I belonged everywhere and to everyone, emptied houses never stopped feeling like ruin. Failing to fully belong in my fatherâs family, and my motherâs, never stopped feeling like disgrace.
âThey learned to respect me because I respected myself. I was fair, I minded my business, and I could play well. Iâm still friends with many of those boys today, all now men with families of their own. What I started realizing even from my young days is that people treat you the way you treat yourself. I never hid or felt ashamed to look and act the way I did. If you gave me something sour to taste, I gave it right back.
And, more telling, when does our typical pattern of equanimity get so quickly and readily disturbed?