Mary Poppins is a Liar
I’m not one of those people who needs things sugarcoated. Even as a kid, I wanted you to shoot it to me straight, which sounds absolutely ridiculous because it’s so out of the norm for children, but for me it was true. Take medicine for example. I was confused as to why anyone would ever choose to drink that sweet, sticky bubblegum-flavored crap instead of just getting it over with by swallowing a couple of horse pills. [definitely referring to those huge amoxicillin tablets – I had strep throat A LOT as a child, so I was v. familiar]. Did the huge, chalky horse pills taste good? Absolutely not. But the bitter taste they left on my tongue was quickly rinsed clean by another sip of water. Quick + [mostly] painless process. The bubblegum goop, on the other hand, felt like a trick. Like a lie. The smell got you excited. Almost made you believe you were going to enjoy it…then you gulped it down and realized it was absolutely terrible. And the worst part? That fake bubblegum flavor coated your entire mouth and lingered, taunting you. A twisted reminder of how the Double Bubble deliciousness you anticipated and craved was nothing but a fraud.
I was the same way with band-aids. [‘Just get it over with so the stinging stops, and I can go play again.’] And with shots. [‘Don’t tell me to look away and try to talk me through it like it’s not happening. I need to be able to see it happen so I know when the pain should start and end.’] If you’re thinking ‘holy control freak,’ you’re 100% correct. And as an adult, my constant need to be in control spills over into my emotions. It’s why I find myself standing firmly in the ‘head’ corner of the head vs. heart boxing match. I prefer to hide behind a veil of cynicism and realism when dealing with painful things because it protects me. It keeps things like ‘hope’ and ‘excitement’ and ‘faith’ [emotions of the heart] outside in the non-VIP line. And after years of practice, I’m pretty good at it. But this time, I failed.
‘Hope’ crept in and made me believe it could save my mom. So together she and I jumped blindly off a cliff, trusting that the doctors at Baylor would provide the safe landing we needed to survive the fall. But they weren’t. And the worst part is that I shouldn’t be surprised. To quote my main girl T. Swift, ‘this ain’t a fairytale.’ I knew going in this was a long shot. But I’ve been so desperate to find a way to keep her safe that I foolishly clung to something I knew deep down was too good to be true. I eagerly swallowed down every last drop of hope with the expectation and trust that it would all be over soon. And now that nauseating bubblegum flavor is all that remains.