“You speak too low. You need to project your voice. You look scared. Fix your posture.” For a lot of my childhood, that’s what my dad would tell me. I grew up very timid, as I imagine some of us can relate to. I don’t exactly know why though, I was just like that as long as I could remember. I remember peeing myself in middle school because I was too scared to raise my hand and go to the bathroom during class, and wanted to wait until lunch break(tmi?). I was so close to the urinal too, I was practically on top of it, but I waited too long. That’s one of my most memorable middle school moments, not just because I peed myself, but because I spent the next 2 hours or so trying to hide the stain on my khaki pants until dismissal. Good times. 

I think this photo encapsulates how I struggled with language when I was younger. This was an art project in the 4th grade where I put my favorite t-shirt on, took a picture with it, and drew a background for it. My posture, smile, my arms; all just scream ‘scared’. I remember feeling, being, and looking scared or sad a lot of the time. I look back at this picture and I think about how I couldn’t raise my hand to use the bathroom. How I used to get bullied, or how I wouldn’t really talk to anyone out of my normal bubble. When someone did me wrong, I wouldn’t speak up for myself. I would just do whatever my parents told me to do, and I was scared of doing anything else.  I think for a lot of kids, it’s hard to find your voice. You grow up just doing whatever your parents want you to do, to the point where you convince yourself that what they want is what you want. That’s certainly how I felt, and I hadn’t even realized it.  I think a big part in why I struggled with language so much was because of how much my dad knit picked how I would talk, the way I would stand, the way I would eat, or even drink. Not to say that it was completely wrong though, I think in some ways I benefited from the criticism, but it also set me back a lot from other kids my age back then in the sense that it made me so conscious about everything I would do, and doing something that I know he wouldn’t approve of would lower my sense of self. And since my dad was my biggest influence back then, I would pay a lot of mind to what he would say. But as you grow up, you start to see your parents, and the people older than you,  in a different light. They’re human too, they have insecurities, flaws, all that good stuff.  I remember my dad telling me how one of his old co-workers did something during work that he shouldn’t have done, and instead of taking responsibility, he blamed it on my dad. My dad didn’t really fight against it, even though he knew it was his co-worker, and he got fired because of it. I felt that my eyes were opened a little more to the world after he told me that. My parents have struggled and still struggle to find their voice, even at their age. My sisters struggle with finding their voice, and so does some of my extended family. People I have met throughout all my life, whether old or young, struggle with language as well. It might just be me, but I always used to think that older people would have everything in their life figured out. I used to think my parents had their lives figured out. But in reality, a lot of people don’t, they’re just better at hiding it. (i’m pretty sure I’ve heard a quote like that somewhere) 

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