Beware of elephants!

I grew up in a house where no one ever discussed the bad stuff. Things would build and build and build until finally someone exploded over a little nothing, something that under other circumstances might be ignored or swept under the carpet. And I've spent my whole life trying to learn another way of communicating. I don't always succeed, but at least I know that I have to make up for this rocky start, that the way I was raised affects my communication skills (or lack thereof) as an adult. Sometimes I still find myself going along to get along, and it usually comes back to bite me in the butt.

Because I was the oldest and given a lot of responsibility at a young age, I began working to anticipate the bad stuff before it happened, doing my research so I could be prepared to handle whatever it was. This kind of behavior makes sense in small quantities, but over time, it turns someone into a control freak or, perhaps, a lawyer.

I didn't have to work that hard to see where things were strange; from a young age, I was vividly aware of our family's differences, and I was completely frustrated that none of the adults around me were doing anything to fix it. Some of the perceived differences were the usual kid stuff: I couldn't believe my parents wouldn't buy me trendy clothes and thought everyone else's [vacation/house/car/stuff] was much cooler than ours. But I was also the first one to notice that my dad was a wee bit "off", and for years I tried to express this to the family, only to be told that I was too mean to him, that he was going through a hard time with the divorce and all, that I needed to cut him some slack. They didn't hear the things he told me during those years, or if they heard, they chose to ignore how inappropriate and destructive much of the conversation was. When he was finally diagnosed with severe mental illness years later, everyone except me was surprised and devastated and, in their shock, they turned to offer me comfort. It was years too late. By that time, I felt only anger on my own behalf and pity for the adults. If they had listened to me or taken me seriously, Dad's illness might have been intercepted at an earlier stage, and much of the damage to my psyche could have been avoided. I wouldn't have had to spend years repeating all those learned unhealthy behaviors in pointless relationships and then, finally, working to get over it, to move past it, to let the past float along where I could take the good and learn from the bad without it coloring my every move.

It's mostly water under the bridge now, and I'm about as healthy as I'm gonna be, although there's always room for improvement. Dad is doing as well as can be expected, and we have a friendly, albeit distant, relationship. After a lot of work, I'm able to look at the adults in my childhood with something approaching compassion. The friends who saw me through those years became my closest relatives.

And best of all, I emerged from that long dark tunnel with a magic power: I can see elephants!!

You know the elephants I mean -- the big huge pink and white polka-dotted ones, all loud and messy, dripping in dirty straw and festooned with bright lights and sirens, that stand trumpeting in the middle of the living room, tossing their heads and fluffing their tutus, while everyone in the room tiptoes around them, pretending they're not there, doing anything they possibly can to avoid rocking the boat, speaking the truth, or -- god forbid -- acknowledging that there's a big smelly dressed-up elephant camped on the expensive rug, practically tripping your little sister every time she goes to the refrigerator.Those elephants. I can see 'em coming a mile away, long before they step one daintily-shod foot into the room. I recognize their auras.

And now, when I see an elephant and realize that everyone else is walking around it with their eyes screwed shut, I shout, as loudly as I can, "Hey! Friends, colleagues and/or family members! There's a big fat elephant in the room! Pay attention! Watch your toes! Let's throw his fat ass outside, quick! Hurry, before someone gets seriously hurt!" Simply put, I refuse to pretend. You can imagine how popular this makes me at family gatherings. But if I'm going to be left to deal with the wreckage left by the elephant, if I'm going to have to be bothered by the darn thing blocking my way when I'm trying to get from one room to the other, then I'm not going to put up with any demands that I bend my view of reality; I'm not going to pretend with the rest of the group that everything is fine when in actuality, the living room (or conference room, perchance) is turning into a frigging circus tent. I'm going to point out the damn elephant, and I'm going to suggest that we figure out how to convince the poor beast to leave before he crushes the new furniture. And I may not always be delicate in the way that I point out the obvious. Delicacy takes more time and patience than I have these days.

People get very upset when I mention the elephants, particularly people who were raised to keep unpleasant things quiet, to pretend that everything is okay, to assume that if you let something slide, it will disappear forever. People who value politeness more than honesty get very upset at my elephant-spotting. Somehow they fail to realize that if you keep your eyes averted and chatter merrily whilst the elephant rampages through your house, that annoying pachyderm doesn't just disappear -- instead, he joins the quickly-accumulating pile of other little things you've been politely ignoring, until one day the whole freaking house of cards or garbage or what-have-you comes crashing down on someone's head.

Now that I am a mother, my tendency to point out elephants has increased exponentially, because the last thing in the world I want is for my child to grow up with a giant whisk broom in his hand, desperately sweeping big hurts and small annoyances under the rug, learning to avert his eyes whenever he spots an elephant, doing anything he can to keep the peace. I want my son to be strong and speak out when he sees injustice. I want him to let people know when they've done him wrong. And I want him to work proactively to take responsibility for his actions and expect others to do the same.

Lately, I am receiving an increasing number of carefully-couched messages from a variety of sources indicating that this is the wrong approach. They whisper in well-meaning tones that perhaps if I let things slide, if I would just calm down a bit, if I would Just.Stop.Talking.About.Those.Ridiculous.Elephants., all will be well. Don't talk about racism and it will magically disappear. Don't talk about training your child to be extra polite to police officers and he'll never get stopped for Driving While Black. Don't blog about disagreements with your husband because, well, nice people just don't do that, and don't you know that sweet Aunt Phyllis reads your blog? (Um, no ... why on earth would she do that? And which one of you silly geese gave her the URL?)  Most of all, they whisper, with that look that you'd give to a small child who has purposely spilled their red drink all over the nice white carpet, don't express yourself or rampage about when things make you angry because we think anger is so unattractive, and don't you think you should get some nice counseling to deal with the fact that you get angry in the first place? Honestly, can't you just chill out and stop talking about that poor elephants? Haven't we all suffered enough?!

Um. folks, if you don't like reading about marauding elephants, this is probably not the blog for you. Move along, delete the URL from your cache, and don't slip on the pile o' smoking poo on your way out. As for the rest of you, welcome to my little safari! I'm delighted, as always, to have your company : )

Images: sowri, spin spin, Adam Foster | Codefor

Comments

[Heather.PNR]

Hm, do I sense a line being drawn in the sand?

[Shelli]

I come from a family that was very open on most things, but when I married my husband I married into a family that talks about nothing. So I can appreciate the diversity of it, but it does require a LOT of energy to not get caught up in the fracas.

Good for you to stand up and represent the elephants. I think it's a lot better way to live than the alternative.

[shinejil]

I'm all for elephant banishing. Especially when it comes to racism and being realistic about the challenges Squeaker might face later on. How will pretending they don't exist help him deal?

[Aegina]

Those of us who are sometimes too timid to point out the elephants ourselves are very relieved when someone else does and will vociferously support you (and try harder next time not to wait for someone else to do it.)

[Sharon]

Keep on shouting and pointing! When our youngest joined our family, I felt a new urgency to point out racism wherever I saw it (as well as the many other elephants that come trampling through many a conversation about adoption). It has definitely put a strain on some of my relationships, but I'll do whatever I need to for my child. Like you, many friends and family feel that I'm making mountains out of molehills and that there's no reason to get upset about "every little thing." Problem is, even baby elephants are pretty darn big.

[Kathryn]

Browsing around & found you. This post speaks volumes to me. My family was similar. I wasn't so good at pointing it out, i just wanted to escape. Did my best until i could actually leave.

I'm not so good at pointing out or recognizing elephants. I do my best to be in situations where there are none.

My family does not have my URL as i want the freedom to blog about it when i need to. Thank you so much for being someone to point them out. Thank you for sharing.