My Grandpa used to tell the story of when I was a preschooler eager to get on my water wings and jump in his backyard pool on a hot day. He walked outside to water the lawn and I followed, holding out my bathing suit, "naked as a blue jay!" I knew I couldn't get my arms and legs into the right holes of that pink one-piece and Grandpa had the ability to dress properly. I didn't care if the neighbors saw me naked and helpless--I needed assistance!
I don't know when that changed.
Independence (cue Destiny's Child!) is a phrase worn around by women my age as some badge of honor.
Are you dating anyone? No. I'm independent.
Are you working a full-time job? Sorry, my independence keeps getting in the way.
Is your permanent address still your parent's house? Yes, because my independent lifestyle thwarts my plans from settling down anywhere for more than six months.
... Not that I want to settle down. I am independent!
We believe we are the pioneer women of the 21st century and we should do everything for ourselves. We make our own money which we spend as we see fit. We travel without much of an agenda and are fine exploring the world on our own. We make things out of scraps of wood and eat from our gardens (and go to the nearest Target when we run out of time and energy). We take yoga classes. We don't need a man to prove our worth and we don't need other people's opinions to dictate who we are. We don't need anybody.
Caitlin Hard-To-Get-Because-She-Freaking-Lives-Everywhere-And-Does-Everything Baird does not need a hand out.
Over the last year this concept of myself has been challenged. It all started with a realization from a doctor that my heart was not strong. Having health problems meant I couldn't choose whatever job I wanted. Not having a stable job meant not having a reliable income. Not having money for rent meant accepting the generosity of family for a place to live. Accepting gifts meant I was no longer independent.
It gets worse.
Two weeks ago I was discharged from the hospital with my arm in a sling, a weak heart hidden beneath it, and a long list of instructions for a month-long recovery plan. ("Only four weeks until you feel great!" said my nurse enthusiastically. She must have gotten married when she was 16.)
So Dad walked me to the bathroom. My friends washed my hand (singular; the one out of the sling). Grandma gave me a shower. My sister and mother dressed me. My brother brought me lunch. And the people who I love sent flowers and cards and prayers.
And I cried.
Losing my idea of independence was not the hard part. Whatever early 2000's pop lyrics I was trying to live out were clearly not enhancing my life. Sorry Beyonce, I like to spend my money on sensible things and go on dates with nice guys who can make decisions.
What hit me is that I never had to ask for help. The people in my life love me so much that they don't need me to speak up about my struggles, physical or otherwise, before they step in. They actually want me to depend on them for encouragement and hot meals and good books to borrow. They want to help me put on my bathing suit so I can jump in the pool.
And I feel the same way about them.
So I'm dropping the IN and embracing the Dependent part of who I am. Dependent on my family, my friends, my community, my God.
All the ladies who truly feel me
Throw your hands up at me
Independence (cue Destiny's Child!) is a phrase worn around by women my age as some badge of honor.
Are you dating anyone? No. I'm independent.
Are you working a full-time job? Sorry, my independence keeps getting in the way.
Is your permanent address still your parent's house? Yes, because my independent lifestyle thwarts my plans from settling down anywhere for more than six months.
... Not that I want to settle down. I am independent!
We believe we are the pioneer women of the 21st century and we should do everything for ourselves. We make our own money which we spend as we see fit. We travel without much of an agenda and are fine exploring the world on our own. We make things out of scraps of wood and eat from our gardens (and go to the nearest Target when we run out of time and energy). We take yoga classes. We don't need a man to prove our worth and we don't need other people's opinions to dictate who we are. We don't need anybody.
Caitlin Hard-To-Get-Because-She-Freaking-Lives-Everywhere-And-Does-Everything Baird does not need a hand out.
Over the last year this concept of myself has been challenged. It all started with a realization from a doctor that my heart was not strong. Having health problems meant I couldn't choose whatever job I wanted. Not having a stable job meant not having a reliable income. Not having money for rent meant accepting the generosity of family for a place to live. Accepting gifts meant I was no longer independent.
It gets worse.
Two weeks ago I was discharged from the hospital with my arm in a sling, a weak heart hidden beneath it, and a long list of instructions for a month-long recovery plan. ("Only four weeks until you feel great!" said my nurse enthusiastically. She must have gotten married when she was 16.)
So Dad walked me to the bathroom. My friends washed my hand (singular; the one out of the sling). Grandma gave me a shower. My sister and mother dressed me. My brother brought me lunch. And the people who I love sent flowers and cards and prayers.
And I cried.
Losing my idea of independence was not the hard part. Whatever early 2000's pop lyrics I was trying to live out were clearly not enhancing my life. Sorry Beyonce, I like to spend my money on sensible things and go on dates with nice guys who can make decisions.
What hit me is that I never had to ask for help. The people in my life love me so much that they don't need me to speak up about my struggles, physical or otherwise, before they step in. They actually want me to depend on them for encouragement and hot meals and good books to borrow. They want to help me put on my bathing suit so I can jump in the pool.
And I feel the same way about them.
So I'm dropping the IN and embracing the Dependent part of who I am. Dependent on my family, my friends, my community, my God.
All the ladies who truly feel me
Throw your hands up at me
