Irony
In the fall of 1992, my family drove from the middle of NoDak to the middle of SE Wisconsin to drop my sister at college. We had only been in NoDak for a few months then: mom was depressed, I was depressed and lonely, my sister was anxious and nervous and worried, and dad...well, I assume he was stressed. We ate some meal at the cafeteria of my sister's college. Mom asked me some potentially insightful question about whether I thought I'd like to go to college someplace like that, or what I thought I'd want to study in school, or something similar. I spat out an angry response - probably "How the hell should I know?" or something equally nonresponsive and bitter. Immediately after, I felt guilty. She was trying; why did I always have to be such a bitch? In an attempt to atone for my rudeness, I asked dad what he was thinking. "I was thinking that this family doesn't really communicate." He was right. We didn't then and we don't now. More than once in Turkey, I threw out an opinion or comment or response to something dad said. Something that could have turned into a discussion, had I not been told I was wrong for saying what I said, or thinking it, or whatever. I hold a lot inside as a result of having no one around to spill it to. I hold a lot inside because I don't know that other people need to know certain things. And because I'm not vain enough to think my opinions or thoughts always matter, and because I don't want to have to defend myself, and because I don't want to share something that gives someone power over me. But now, I also hold things inside because it apparently doesn't matter.The irony is that I was a Communication major in college, and it's always noted as one of my strengths. Guess I've got some people fooled.
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