The Woman of Steele by Antonietta Baladi

11/25/15

The Woman of Steele (Narrative)

            It was the best decision I ever made to walk into Ms. Steele’s office that one day in my sixth grade year. I had absolutely no idea what to expect. All I knew was that I was walking and opening the door. Ms. Steele was the trust counselor in Palm Springs Middle school, and the angel that saved me from falling into the treacherous pit of adolescent angst and confusion. With her guidance, I learned to express my thoughts and understand them, consider actions both on mine and others’ behalf, and most importantly I learned to trust myself and build the confidence I need in order to eat the world.

            Just a wee little thing, I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders and I failed to understand why. I roamed the school halls with a creeping sense of being shoved down. These were things I never experienced before, so I sought out help. That first day, I sank into a large, consuming yet comfortable seat of forest green which leaned against Ms. Steele’s metal desk next to the door. The small office invited me into its dimly lit interior. A black leather couch laid against the wall across from the entrance with a rectangular crimson rug at its feet. Funny to think back to it now, little did I know that that would evolve into my sanctuary. Ms. Steele sat up in her pink office chair. She wore shoulder length blonde hair above her petite, pale frame. As embarrassing as it seemed, the first forms of communication beamed out from me were, in fact, sobs. It only took one look from her concerned blue eyes for me to break down. But she quickly sprang into action; she handed me some tissues from the box conveniently placed on her desk and scooched her chair closer to me. “I don’t know what to do!” I choked. At that moment right there is where the new me first breathed. I seemed to have succumbed under the tremendous stress of juggling the many responsibilities that deterred me from a childhood of fun and play. As the oldest of three, I acted as the second mother to my younger siblings Jose and Jessica. I had (then) gone through about 10 surgeries to correct my cleft lip, a common birth defect. My world consisted of doctors, surgeons, needles, blood, pain, sacrifice, and worst of all, health insurance. It all began to take a toll on me. With each surgery came each recuperation, and with those soon came the dreadful removing of stitches and bandages. The removals weren’t as bad as the looks though. I continued to stand out somehow. I suffered more surgeries than I had to. My surgeon allowed students to perform the surgeries and then be the ones to remove the stitches. It was a pain unlike any other. The worst part being that I still looked the same! All that pain, for nothing! They didn’t know what they were doing and I, a child, had to pay the price. How could I possibly explain the years of injustice and agony I felt to this sweet little woman? Ms. Steele explained that not just any child can be strong enough to grow up before time is called. The experiences in my short life gave me a window that nobody else could see through, those words stood out to me. I began to appreciate this window. I thought, “Wow, she’s right. I see it. I made friends along the way – the other patients I met with the same issue, and my roommates in the hospital rooms – and I have a second home in the hospital. Maybe it’s better to stand at this point than to be running around giggling with annoying children.” Truth is, I get along with the hospital staff better because they know the reality of the situation. Kids just think about their homework, stickers, friends, and toys. I held bigger things on my plate. In my mind I calculated dates for appointments, names of specialists, specific functions of these specialists, x-rays, weight complications, possible anesthesia complications due to weight, and pressure from everyone and their mother for me to gain weight so that the next surgery won’t be delayed. Honestly, the kids my age would just slow me down. I already opened my eyes and saw how difficult the real world is and I didn’t have time to waste playing patty-cake. With one session a week, I was learning to comprehend my emotions of indignation and began to analyze my causes of stress. After the analytical step, I had to express my thoughts and concerns so that together we’d battle the demons of doubt. It was amazing the relief I felt just talking to someone who could respond with worth-while advice. I’d say something like “I feel… because… and I’d like to… so how can I?  In three years’ time we knocked down one by one the towers that kept me retreated within my shell.

            I knew I was lucky, lucky enough to have someone guide me and clean my window when the view grew foggy. Now, I didn’t exactly feel victimized as much as I felt angry. I felt angry sometimes because I too asked the clouds “why me? Out of the billions of people in the world, why I did I have to be the one going through all this? I know I’m not the only one, but why am I one of them?” These were low points for me. I needed to understand that “people, especially children, act out negatively when feeling down.” The window is wiped. I saw others clearly for what they were feeling. I understood why they behaved the way they did. The girl who developed early didn’t like me because she wasn’t accustomed to someone saying no to her. Said girl took charge of having the class isolate me for “being weird”. The young boy who used to be my good friend also led the class and spread a rumor about me taking an anger management course. It was true. “Boys in their youth do hurtful things sometimes to gain attention from others.” He was trying to get close to the devil girl. The window is wiped. I went on a field trip with Ms. Steele and the kids from the anger management class to the streets to raise awareness for homelessness. “Some people lose their way in life and with it, their families and stability. Some of these people need medical attention but can’t afford it, so they remain in the dark. Not all of these people are drunks and/or drug consumers. There are families that are homeless, kids like you that go to school, are homeless. These people just need compassion and guidance.” My window grew in size, and the view? Crystal clear. I have an older half-brother, Jaime, a few weeks ago we bought a bunch of pizzas at a shopping center. There was a homeless man on the corner of the center. He dragged a Home Depo cart full of cans, a few articles of clothing, and a wiener dog. This man just sat there gazing, contemplating the sunset and petting his dog. Jaime and I had 4 boxes of pizzas on our hands. We took a few from each box, wrapped them up in paper towels, and put them in a bag. We moseyed on down to the man. Jaime handed the bag of pizzas to him and apologized for having put them in a bag. The man, delighted, placed the dog securely in the cart and accepted the bag thanking us. “Oh they’re still warm!” he exclaimed. Jaime responded, “Yes, there are different types too. We hoped they’d be enough for you and your dog.” The ragged man thanked us again and blessed us. We walked away leaving a kind spark in the man’s eyes as he fed his dog. I thought of Ms. Steele.

            In her office she pinned up letters of gratitude from other students. I thought that on my last day of eighth grade I’d dedicate one as well. I was never able to. I tried, but there was so much that happened that I didn’t even know what to say. Next thing I knew, the bell rang and I ceased to be a middle schooler. Now that I’ve grown up and applied her wisdom to my life, I know what to say. I’d say, “Thank you for choosing your career, because you excel at it. Because of you I didn’t break down as tragically as others I know. I felt like I always had someone in my corner rooting for me and I’ll be eternally grateful for that encouragement. I grew to understand that there’s more than the Hispanic mother’s way to express one’s self. I stood limp on the ground facing everyday battered up by my mistrust in others and in myself. Now, I hear your voice in my head conquering any corrupt thought of myself. I am a strong young woman with a mind that grows every single day and a kind heart. I am blessed to have a family that cares about my well-being and to have a brother and sister that need my guidance as someone experienced. I thought about becoming a trust counselor too but I’m trying out another form of therapy to help others. I didn’t know I was depressed, or that I was being bullied. I thought that was just the way things were supposed to go. Thank you for finding me. Thank you for teaching me how to control myself when I’m about to burst out of my seams. There’s so much I’d like to tell you about. I fell in love for the first time. And then I plummeted out of it. But that’s okay because I’m in college now and there’s barely enough time to socialize between my classes and all the television I watch! Next time I’ll gracefully step into it instead of falling. I restrain myself from tainting my glass with a rose color, I like my clear view. I don’t regret the experience. I don’t regret any of the events in my life because they shaped me into the person I am today; a humorous, five foot tall noodle with hair that won’t be tamed. The responsibilities list keeps growing now that I’m 19. I get stressed out sometimes but it doesn’t last long because I watch the burden float away in the pink balloon when I close my eyes, just like you taught me. It’s all just temporary. That’s gotten me through so much pain. I might need one more surgery by the way. This will be the last one. I’m up to 14 surgeries. Each one has gotten easier. I considered volunteering at the hospital, but it’s too far. In time I’ll give back. Thank you for everything Ms. Steele. I’m a work in progress, but I’m happy.”

            I really am happy. I’m hopeful about the future. I had no idea what I was going to do with my life. I didn’t even think that college was an option for me. I have a dream of making films and as crazy as it sounds, I’m pretty confident about it! With the proper structure, I’ll be able to tell a great story that will connect with the audience and one day help another little noodle find the confidence within themselves to strive for their dreams. I owe it all to Ms. Steele for helping me rise from the ashes of common torment that swallow young kids up. I can manage my train of thought in a more organized fashion, thank you very much. And I understand that we as humans respond to the behaviors of others and sometimes reciprocate in the way that we shouldn’t, but it’s all a part of how we’re wired and see things. And I’m not one to brag but, my window is expanding into a balcony and I’m installing a chair because I know the importance of appreciating a moment. It’s going to be a green chair.