College.

It’s funny. For 18 years, we always hope and strive for the moment that we’re able to go off to college. Finally. It’s a time to get away from our parents, from the people that we disliked in our high school, and from that old identity that we want to leave behind.  We’re excited for this new journey. Little did we know that we’re in for the most stress-filled, albeit fun, 4 years of our lives. And, that’s not even where it stops. After college comes the stress of finding a job (if that actually happens), and then it’s actually being thrown into adulthood. It’s being responsible for your own bills, your house, and your entire life. I don’t know about you, but the gain doesn’t seem to override the loss. It’s almost like…what are we striving for here?

It’s not all bad. College definitely will have been the most enjoyable (hopefully) 4 years of my life; years that I am taking the most advantage of now. But, there’s so much that comes with it. There’s so much baggage that is followed by these 4 years of our life what with all of the student loans and crippling fear of being unsuccessful. People handle it differently. Some people turn to alcohol (not a very good option), and some people turn to never leaving their dorm room and missing out completely on the college experience (also not the best option). There’s no rulebook about how to get through this (if there was, it’d definitely be an overpriced best seller at the bookstore). So, everyone has to come up with their own thing. Everyone has to find their own way, their own path. No one’s journey is the same, so it’s up to us to figure out how we’re going to handle it, how we’re going to get through this. Let’s face it, it’s what we signed up for.

***

At 10 years old, your life should be pretty much organized. You’re in the 4^th grade, and you’re one step closer to being one of the head honchos of middle school, the 5^th graders. So, what do you do when all of that doesn’t matter anymore? What do you do when, in an instant, your life is completely turned around and you’re no longer the happy-go-lucky 4^th grader that you were 5 minutes ago? What do you do?

It’s September in Adel, GA…on a Friday to be more specific. But, it’s not just any Friday. It’s an Intermural Friday. Today is the day that the entire school gets to have a mini Field Day, every elementary child’s dream. Kids are laughing, parents are volunteering, and teachers are keeping a close eye on us. It may be a relaxed day for the students, but a teacher’s work is never done. Just like a principal’s job is never done.

“I have to tell a student that their mother just passed away.”

Words that no principal wants to say and words that no student wants to accidentally overhear. Knowing that I’m in the clear because my mom is 2 feet away from me volunteering, I calm down. I know that my world won’t be the one crumbling this sunny afternoon. But, someone’s will.

“Can you wait until the day is over?” my mom pleads to the principal who is also a family friend, “This will be the last few hours that he has to have an ordinary life. Let him enjoy the rest of the day before you destroy the rest of his life.”

“I want to”, Dr. Mitchell responds, “I really want to. But, we can’t risk someone else telling him before we get the chance. That’ll be even worse.”

My mom agrees that he is right. That with a population of less than 5,500 people, word travels fast in Adel. It’s very plausible that a child might accidentally tell him the news before an adult gets the chance. But, I stop paying attention and look at all of the children. Some are running the 50-yard-dash, some play under the huge color wheel, and others try their best to win the 3-legged race. Laughter everywhere, smiles on everyone’s faces, happiness all around. It should be a good day. There should be nothing but joy on this school day where we get to do something other than schoolwork.

But, there is joy. Joy that is getting ready to be shattered because of the unfairness of life. And, alas, even a 10-year-old has to be taught this lesson sometime.

“Jackson? Jackson Turner, could you come with me for a second?”

“Can I just finish this game?”

“I’m afraid it can’t wait.”

I expect them to wait until he is out of sight to break the news to him. But, I see the dark-haired boy stop walking after a little while. Tears immediately flowing down his face, he turns to the principal yelling something that I’m too far away to understand.

Students everywhere are blind to everything that’s happening. Blind to the fact that Jackson’s mom kissed him goodbye before watching him get on the bus this morning, took a little nap, and never woke back up. Blind to the fact that going back and finishing that game is the least of his concerns at the moment.

So many things were done wrong. I’m only 10, and I know that. Jackson shouldn’t have been told now. He should’ve been allowed to finish out the day. He shouldn’t have been told before he made it inside the building and out of students’ view. Luckily, no other child knows what’s happening because I’m the only nosy one. But, a few have stopped to see where their friend Jackson is going and why he’s crying all of a sudden. My mom even attempts to get me to go back and have fun. She wants me to go and enjoy the rest of my day and know that we’ll talk later about the fact that I was eavesdropping in the first place.

But, how can I go back? How can someone’s life be turned around in an instant, at such a young age nonetheless, and we just be expected to move on and continue as we are? Is the world so cruel that we’re not allowed a little suffering on behalf of other people? Can I not mourn a friend’s mom who made me mac-and-cheese one time when my mom asked her to babysit us?

Things are different after that day. I mean, how can they go back to being the same? How can anyone’s life go back to how it was before they lost their mother? I’m happy that the feeling is so foreign to me, but that doesn’t take away from my sympathy. I can honestly only imagine what he is going through at this time.

Today was supposed to be a carefree day, and for me it still is. It’s September in Adel, GA…on a Friday to be more specific, and someone’s world was just changed.

But, sure. I’ll go back to playing with my friends.

***

“I’m pregnant”.

I can still remember exactly what I was doing when my mom said those words to me. While waiting in the line to drop us off at our elementary school, she dropped that bomb. Even now, I’m not sure why she said it so nonchalantly. I would expect her to be rejoicing at the fact that she was going to have more than just a set of 10-year-old, and annoying at times, twins. But, my brother and I were elated. We were the youngest of all of our cousins so we had no experience whatsoever being near babies. The fact that the new baby in the family would be our sibling was joyful news. We went to school that day telling everyone about the fact that ‘our mom is pregnant!’

Being only 10 at the time, I never really understood just how boring a pregnancy can be. Sure, her stomach gets bigger, and there’s something moving around, but is that really all there is to it? In my eyes, it was. So, the only exciting part was when her water broke and, since my brother and I were now only 11, she had to drive herself to the hospital 30 minutes away. We had had 4 false alarms in the past few months so I wasn’t the least bit excited to go to the hospital this time around. I mean, why do we have to drive all the way here just to be told “Sorry. Looks like it’s not going to happen tonight”? These doctors know us by name now because we frequent so often. But, the nurse finally comes and gets us in the waiting room and says “This time you’re staying.” Right then I knew, finally, we would be walking out of there with new life in our hands.

It’s boring again. My mom said that it would be quicker this time around since this was her second pregnancy. But, it’s going on 10 hours, and I don’t see how anything about this screams “quick”. My mom keeps complaining about having to go to the bathroom, but she’s been told not to because she’s dilated too far, which I only knew the definition of because of Rachel being dilated only 3 centimeters on FRIENDS after many hours. Let’s hope Mom doesn’t suffer the same fate because the miracle of birth is fine to witness, but my limit on being in this hospital was surpassed about 7 hours ago.

“Jazmyn, come help me unhook the IV out of my arm”.

Nothing about that sentence sounds like the appropriate thing to do or even something that you should be encouraging your 11-year-old daughter to become an accomplice to. But, it’s Mama, so surely she’s not doing something she was specifically asked – no – told not to do.

“Ms. Matthews, I hope you know that my computer notifies me when the monitor in here has been unplugged. Didn’t I ask you not to leave your bed?”

Busted.

I’m the child in this situation, yet who is the guilty culprit who was just blatantly caught doing something wrong? She pouts all the way back to the bed as the nurse mumbles something about “We don’t want you delivering in the toilet.” Unfortunately, this is one of the most interesting things that happens during the entire labor process. The almost-toilet birth was the only part that I was semi-excited for. How sad.

When doctor comes in and says “it’s time”, I breathe a sigh of relief. My brother has been quiet the entire time. He’s disgusted by “that thing coming out of Mama”, and now he’s in for quite the surprise. He’s suddenly interested in watching his baby sister being born and is highly upset when the nurse notifies us that the only male allowed to watch is the father. He’s running late, but that’s not even the problem.

“He’s my son”, my mom says, “As long as he stays at my head, what’s the big deal?”

“It’s our policy ma’am. Sorry, but your son has to go into the waiting room”.

There’s no time for arguments as the doctor begins to tell my mom to push. I watch Jaron, with tears in his eyes, walk into the adjoining room. That’s the odd thing. He wants to be present for this; I couldn’t care less. In fact, there’s a Wayans Brothers marathon on TV right now, and that is a lot more interesting to me than all of the pushing happening right next to my chair. So, I focus on that.

“Push, Kristal.”

“We’re brothers…”

“Ms. Matthews, I’m gonna need you to push a little bit harder.”

“We’re happy and we’re singing…”

“Push. Harder.”

“Give me a high five.”

“Kris!”

Why are they so loud? Can’t they see I’m trying to watch the funniest theme song ever right now? Although it’s a show that I now despise, back then I found it hilarious. How could they have the audacity to be delivering a baby while I’m trying to enjoy some good television? Even Jaron’s crying in the next room from not being able to watch the birth of his sister can be heard right now. I tell you, there are definitely ridiculously rude people in this world.

***

I am fortunate enough to be able to say that I’ve never had anything traumatic happen to me. Aside from the death of a cousin to Sickle Cell (something that we were unfortunately able to see coming) and the deaths of a grand and great-grandfather (both of whom I didn’t know very well), I’ve been pretty lucky in the lack of ‘family deaths’ category. This may or may not be the reason behind my inability to deal with things well. I dealt with a friend’s death of their mom as if were my own, and I basically ignored the birth of my sister opting to watch a lame television show. Sounds like a well put-together person, right?

It’s taken me a while to come to this conclusion. Most people that have misplaced feelings and emotions have tells like laughing when someone dies or never shedding a tear when they’re told they have a life-threatening disease. It could just be attributed to numbness or whatever shrinks feel like spouting off. I mean, I cry at sad movies (I can’t watch Titanic without channeling Kim Kardashian’s crying face), and I laugh when Monica yells “That’s not even a word” at Rachel after getting a word wrong, causing them to lose their apartment. Obviously sad or obviously funny/happy stuff isn’t hard to differentiate; it’s the line between them is where it makes things difficult.

Because of all of this confusion on emotions being drawn, it makes a lot of sense now. Me not handling emotions well has always been pretty much understood. I don’t cry for a year, and then when I finally do, the tears last for a week. I don’t handle stress well to the point of almost passing out in the middle of physical therapy just thinking about all of the tests that I have. In my defense, it’s usually just attributed to the fact that I’m a college student, and well... that’s life. Get over it. But, the people surrounding me have other ideas, and it’s honestly understandable. I don’t agree with it, but I do understand their fear.

Fear. What is there to be scared of? It’s not depression. It’s not relieving my emotions or stress with dangerous habits; it’s confusion. Who was ever worried about a little confusion? Sure, it’s fair to understand that when finals time comes around, they always worry that I’m eating enough or sleeping like I’m supposed to be. Once again, I’m in college. What person between the ages of 18-22 always has the time to eat? What student opts to sleep over getting an A over a test? The way I see it, there’s always time for that kind of stuff afterwards. Misplaced emotions? Yeah right. C-o-l-l-e-g-e. If you’re not eating less and losing sleep, then you’re not doing it right.