There's No Coming Back from This

by Ann Garvin

To be nobody-but-yourself—in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody but yourself—means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight and never stop fighting. —e. e. cummings

High school was over and adulthood was on the way, and I knew she felt that loss, as I did.

“I’ll be right here when you return. Everything will be the same as when you left.” And there it was, two simple sentences uttered as if they weren’t a vow.

I’d taken an abnormal psychology class and the professor said, “Mental illness isn’t personal, it’s illness.” Going on to say, “You wouldn’t take another person’s diabetes as a slight against you, would you?”

The trick was to listen, support, and do no problem-solving until a solid problem was defined. Emotions were not to be solved.

The blame ball, in the game of life, rolled downhill and, as often as not, hit the victim.

“I’m awkward until someone goes in for my coffee. Then I am a ninja.”

Teens, across the country, you still had the responsibility and stress of keeping their heads unharmed, but no parent had long enough arms for the adult hazards of the world.

You know, if you stood up for yourself like you do for everyone else, maybe I could respect you.

Then he’d come over wearing new, expensive shoes, a new shirt. I never knew if he used my money for those purchases or needed money because of them. I should have said something, but making people happy is complicated.

My dad popped into my mind. He’d been the same with money. Keeping him happy was imperative—I knew how to do that without asking too many questions.

In reality, what Three thought of when he saw me was a con artist’s mark.

Women learn to be pleasing—often their lives and livelihoods depend on it.

“I think I’ll miss you the most, Scarecrow,” I said and would have been annoyed by my sentimentality, but it was true. I was sweet on him, but my picker had a screw loose and needed tightening before I fell again for someone.