on becoming my mother

(or at least becoming aware of it)

I’m sure this is not a unique experience, but throughout my adolescence, it felt like my mother was my most common (human) adversary. I specify the species because our conflicts existed within the context of the mental illnesses I believe I’ve struggled with since birth, but was diagnosed with at age 9. 

The first conflict I remember as the beginning of this cycle took place in the car, likely during first or second grade. My mother was giving me pretty general advice about keeping a positive attitude, as I’ve come to learn now my teachers at the time were trying to work with me on my pessimism. 

“You know, God says to keep a joyful heart. Having a positive attitude is the first step to having a good day.” 

“That just seems fake. Some things are sad. I don’t want to pretend to be happy.”