Those Were the Days
Summary: Just a musing about the differences between childhood and adulthood and what *really* changes.
Note: I wrote this while sitting under a tree at my cousin's elementary school on the second to the last day of school (They were having a 5th grade BBQ and I was forced to attend. LOL).
Rating: It's angsty, but it's G rated angst.
I sit on a playground watching all the children play. There's tetherball, swings, handball, slides, monkey bars...and everything a kid could want. I observe their merriment as an outsider looking in. I no longer belong in their world, my time is over. I sit under this tree watching them like an anthropologist studying some mystifying culture that is neither concerned about nor interested in the strange outsider who scribbles in her notebook and glances up from time to time to stare at them. I don't feel any resentment or sadness, I'm quite content with just sitting here in the shade while a gentle breeze cools my back. But, I can't help thinking, as I watch them, back to when the roles were reversed... and I was in the inside looking out.
This isn't some nostalgic memory piece about the "good ol' days" when I was a child and everything was wonderful. Those were not always good days and everything was certainly not wonderful. However, everything was simple (if not better) and rather black and white.
Those were the days when people hated you just because you existed. Simple. Now, being an adult, you know there's a reason why they hate you-even if don't necessarily know what that reason is.
Those were the days when your parents had to tell you that you were poor. But, you didn't really care. Now, noone has to tell you that you're poor, you know! And you worry about it every waking moment of the day.
Those were the days when the future was next week and exciting. Now, it's 10 years away and terrifying. What will you do? Where will you work? Will you be successful? Your feelings about the future are now directly proportional to how much you expect to have at that time.
Those were the days when your pain didn't have a name. Now, your pain has many names: self-hatred, depression, low self-esteem, anxiety, poor self image...and even more specific names that stem directly from the names listed above: Alcoholism, anorexia, dysfunction, self-destructive behavior...and everything else that fills up psychology textbooks.
Those were the days when you could, and were encouraged to, escape reality. Now, if you choose to escape reality your head is "in the clouds," you're "unfocused," "aimless,"and "naive." Since when did escapism become bad? You *always* know (and knew) that reality is waiting for you, you just want to imagine, for a little while, that you and your life are okay.
Those were the days when you were "too" something, and so was everyone else. You were too: short, fat, skinny, flat-chested, tall, smart, dumb...etc. Now, you are either "too" something or not "enough" of something else and it is all determined by society. And what makes it worse is that we do it to ourselves. We make ourselves: too skinny, too fat, too dumb, too smart (yes, there is such a thing), too big-chested...too whatever.
So, as I sit here, watching these kids, knowing what the future entails for them, do I wish that I could be a kid again? No. Yes, it was black and white and more simple, but it was still hard. A sword is hardened in fire, a diamond is a lump of coal that endured intense pressure, and an adult is someone who survived childhood. I know the person I am, owes the little person I used to be, thanks for getting me here-And I *am* grateful, but, I just know that one childhood is enough for anyone. I've had mine, and I'm content with just sitting here and watching these kids have theirs.