“Bite the bullet!” I’ve always hated this phrase. It refers to facing a tough situation and taking it on like a street-fighter. Sure, there are times when life requires a girl to pick herself up and get back in the ring after she’s just been knocked down by a quick left jab. But I know my limits, and sometimes I’d like to say, “I’ll sit this round out.” Unfortunately for me, I have an aunt who loves to use this phrase, and has chewed up and spat out the many bullets that life has shot her way.
Carolyn Mason, ordained Presbyterian Minister, proud militant, and my mother’s most outspoken sister. Don’t touch her unless you want to get burned. Then, there’s me- Erica Tiara, the peace-maker, artist, and dreamer. Come to me when you need a mediator, self-esteem boost, or a pretty poem to stick on your refrigerator.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a shy, meek person, but anyone could see that my aunt and I have two very different personalities. However, the conflict between us stems from a much deeper place than just our individual characteristics. The difference between us lies in our very spirits and our entire outlook on life itself. I can remember hearing Carolyn say many times that she wished I was her daughter. I always thought this was one the highest compliments I had ever received. That is, until I got older, and realized that it wasn’t just because she loved me so much, but because she thought that if she was my mother, she could “legally force me to do what she wanted.” Often I forget who’s life it is that I’m living- mine or the one Carolyn wants for herself.
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I’m constantly being bombarded by her input and it has gone on for so long. I didn’t fully realize how much she affects my life until I started high school. During that time, I left my home in Detroit in order to attend school in a nice, suburban area of California. Since my mother remained in Michigan, I had to live with another one of my aunts, named Shelia, who happens to be Carolyn’s partner crime.
Carolyn would stop by very often, and many times we’d go on an outing. We both share a love for nature, so nature parks were usually our destination. The beautiful scenery- bathing geese, little chipmunks peeking from the rocks, tall ancient trees, and sparkling white pebbles beneath our feet- would usually calm her fiery persona down for awhile. At least, until I made an innocent comment like, “I’d like to have a house near a park like this one day.” Before I knew it, she had began a lecture about how I won’t get a decent shack unless I take more advanced placement classes, copy-wright my cartoon strip so I can sell it to Disney at once, and write a letter of admiration to Bill Clinton in hopes that he will invite me to the White House. The worst thing was that I couldn’t get away from her. I couldn’t ask the mountain lions for a ride back home.
After about fifteen occurrences like this, I discontinued our little trips to lecture island. Encounters with Carolyn became more like business meetings as I continued to advance in high school. Every time I saw her I had to report the latest developments and take more orders. While it’s normal for others to give a teenager more advice during those crucial high school years, with Carolyn it was more of her trying to “mold” me than to guide me. She tells me that if I just listen to whatever she says to do, I’ll be set for life. But I’ve always been rebellious.
Status and social class are superficial to me, and I refuse to participate. I won’t conform and I do what feels right to me at the time. My idea of success is happiness. However, my aunt feels that since people judge, I must always appear like I’ve got it all together.
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Wealth, status, and recognition are her idea of success. She believes that I should suffer now and be happy later, and says to approach challenges like a warrior. But a warrior, I am not, and I don’t fight for things I don’t even believe in. One can imagine the endless lectures I had to endure when it came time to apply for college. I was starting to think she had quit her job because she was always around! We had different opinions on what type of university I should attend- I’d say small college, she’d say large university- and she wanted me to apply for every scholarship there was and join about four extra organizations. I heard “bite the bullet” so many times that year.
I felt that I was doing pretty good. I was already involved with the Salvation Army, in a student government group for a Californian councilwoman, and participating in art shows in San Francisco. But nothing seemed to be good enough for Carolyn. There was always more that I should be doing.
I was so used to her governing over me that I began to feel like I actually needed her approval. So when I never received the approval, I started to feel like a failure, and I understand the importance of being accepted by family. I called my mother more often to help me clear my mind. She’s always been more understanding than anyone, as she is also the rebellious, free-to-be-me type. I found myself venting about Carolyn and how trying to talk with her never ended in a resolution because I wasn’t saying what she wanted to hear.
But I was confused because I wanted to benefit from her advice and make peace with her without having to betray myself in the process. Since I knew that simply talking with my aunt wouldn’t get me anywhere, I decided that I would try to find something for us to do together that would bring us to common ground. One college that Carolyn kept hollering in my ear about, was the University of Michigan in Dearborn. I was not interested in that school, but it didn’t hurt to apply to one more college. So I called her, and to her delight and satisfaction, I told her that I was going to apply to U of M, and that I’d like her to help me. So we sat together at a computer and completed the online application.
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It really wasn’t so bad to do something that she wanted me to do. It brought us to a sort of temporary “meeting place,” and I told her that whatever I decided to after that was my choice. To my dismay, I was actually excepted to the University of Michigan. I was hoping it wouldn’t even be a factor in my final decision.
“At least go to the first orientation!” was all I kept hearing. Thus, as a final effort, I flew to Michigan to visit the university, but still found myself uninterested. And when I told Carolyn that I wasn’t accepting admission, hell! At that point, I was tired of trying to please her. I realized that no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t be what she wanted because she couldn’t change me. I also realized that I wouldn’t be able to make her understand me because I couldn’t change her. You see, I do love my aunt, and I know she wants what’s best for me, but we have two completely different ideas of what that is.
I need to be free to change my mind, to make mistakes, to do things the “unconventional” way. I can’t live my life by following a formula and I definitely can’t live for someone else. I made an effort, but still, no resolution. For two people who view life as differently as we do, and are set in our ways, the only thing we can agree to do to accept that we disagree. Now that I’m away miles away from Carolyn, it’s easier to converse with her because she knows I can hang up the phone whenever I want. Though I can’t seem to make peace with my aunt, I have gained more knowledge about myself and what’s important to me just from arguing with her.
In a way, she makes me stronger by criticizing me for not being strong enough. The more she orders, the more I rebel, the more I speak out, and the more I learn to stand up for myself. Hmm, the more I become like her. Could this actually be a secret plot of hers?