Melissa hated her feelings.Ā
She buried them in a chest in the 5th grade (along with her ability to express them). Other peoples' feelings on the other hand was her forte. She could process, decipher and regurgitate other peoples emotions effortlessly. This gift couldāve taken her through college, all the way to a degree in psychology. Distinguished Dr. Jefferson with a PhD and a cozy office and impressive roster of high-profile, weallthy clients was a shiny idea. Fate would have a different hand for Melissa her talents were exhausted on mediating family fights, friend group drama, and charming her way out of confronting her own feelings.Ā
āFeelings.ā Even saying it out loud to herself seemed silly. Something reserved for ācry babiesā and water signs. Typical Sunday nights started tame, reading or writing fan-fiction and drinking cranapple juice. And then like clock work her father would yell her name,Ā
āMELISSA!!!ā Emotionless, sheād get up dust off her Winnie the Pooh shorts and make her way downstairs. On the long walk down the hall to the stairs leading to the living room brawl, sheād go through her check list:Ā
1.) Donāt cry.Ā Ā
Ā 2.) Stay neutral; Deescalate
3.)Donāt take anything personal. This isnāt about you
She padded down the carpeted stairs in her old soft socks to see her mother tightlipped and tear streaked thinking,Ā
āshe broke ruleĀ number 1ā. Her father, Michael was proud and angry, his big belly filled with self righteousness. She knew he would be unyielding in his resolve and at this point her only option was to deescalate.
Ā āRule number 2ā. Then her sister the water sign and calamity for the evening sat on the floor nearly fetal, face red and raw with emotion.Ā
āIts not your faultā Melissa wanted to say āYou just didnāt follow the rulesā¦ youāre loved.ā But she couldnāt say that because sheād be breaking ruleĀ number 3. It wasnāt about how Melissa felt. Even though she felt like screaming,
āVANESSA, YOU DIDNāT DO ANYTHING WRONG. DADāYOU JUST HAVE PENT UP ANGER BECAUSE YOU GREW UP IN THE HOOD OF DETROIT AS A BLACK MAN IN THE 60s AND 70s. YOU NEED A HEALTHY OUTLET LIKE.. I DONT KNOWā¦ THERAPY?!?!?! THIS IS A WASTE OF ALL OF OUR TIME. I LITERALLY JUST WROTE THE BEST SAILOR SATURN x CHIBI USA FANFICTION EVER AND THIS IS KILLING MY VIBE!ā
Instead, she decide to hear every one out. She decided to help. To calm her dragon of a father down. To be a translator for her emotional sister. To not take it personal. To stay neutral. To not cry.Ā
9 years later, at her fathers funeral she still never broke the rules. She played her flute and spoke at his memorial. She was present for her mother because it wasnāt about her. When other peoples' emotions bubbled up she stayed neutral. She sat through both services and she did not cry. It wasnāt until she excused herself to make a phone call outside did she collapse onto the stairs of the funeral home and weep alone in the cold Detroit snow.Ā
Itās okay to break the rules sometimes, she reminded herself. As long as no one else sees it.
Traumas began to compact on Melissa, as they do. Humans tend to collect traumas like pebbles on a long hike. We toss them into our backpacks and keep moving forward. Some hikers would falter, but Melissa was built for this. Sheād carried the stones of her familyās traumas uphill for years. She was strong.Ā
When men began to befriend and reject her, sayingĀ āyouāre too good for meā but not too good to make them feel good. She carried that.Ā
When childhood friends began to cut off the strings of her heart, sayingĀ āWe canāt be friends anymoreā. She carried that.
When her family separated like dandelion seeds, it seemed like theyād never be together again. Melissa slept on so many couches, floors and car seats sometimes she didnāt know if sheād see them again.Ā
She carried that.Ā
Dying was never an option though sometimes she didnāt mind the thought of it. Peace and warmth were two things sheād desperately yearned and hadnāt felt fully since the womb. Then one night in the pitch black of the hot, sweaty, roach-infested studio in southeast Houston she slept in she wondered:
āWhy canāt I break the rules?ā Sheād seen everyone else in her life break them like popsicle sticks. And she didnāt just want to break the rules, she wanted to break them boldly and loudly and annoyingly and honestly and sloppily like every one else gets to do. It was in that moment, tucked in a thin jacket inside of an 8-foot high instrument cubby in the inky darknessāit hit her.Ā
āIs my suffering for a high purpose? Or is my suffering trying to kill me?āĀ
She cried.Ā
She escalated.Ā
She took it personal.Ā
But it wasnāt enough. She wanted to scream in a microphone in a sea of shadowy faces. She drank whiskey and wove her pain into rock music.Ā
āMusic is my boyfriendā she declared. The only man that kept his baggage to hisself. And it healed her. It gave her voice reason and purpose.Ā
The pebble-laden hike became lighter with time. The incline eventually evened out to flat, beautiful landscapes where the breeze finally met her back. She knew it wasnāt gonna be easy or sunshine but even the rain cleansed her and it was beautiful too.Ā
Somewhere in the rain she decided rules were meant to be built and broken. Like trust and love and friendships and families. Because every thing deserves the opportunity to change and grow.Ā
So... She brokeĀ rule number 1Ā on stage while singing a beautiful song. Dr. Jefferson (PhD) screamed for her to stop but she didnāt listen and the tears flowed like rivers of emotion down her cheeks.Ā
Rule number 2Ā was broken when she grew older and saw the injustices of the world. Marching with hundreds in protest she realized not everything needs to be pacified.Ā
And one day when she finally fell in love, she brokeĀ rule number 3. No matter how much training sheād done she couldn't help but take every thing her lover said and did personal. But it was ok. Because in all her resistance she realized breaking rules was her power.Ā
Melissa began to fall for her feelings. Her feelings gave life purpose. They werenāt always logical, as feelings seldom are. They were sloppy and embarrassing and rude and so fucking uncomfortable. But they were hers. And they were real. And when she sat alone sipping wine, staring at the moonā¦They were the only ones still by her side. Ready to break the rules for her because they loved her.Ā
And she finally loved them back.Ā