Why I Am Jealous of a 1 ½ Year Old.
By the Velvet Hammer
I realized today that I’m jealous of my 18-month old. No, it’s not because of her perfect skin. Or her ability to sleep whenever she wants. Or even her freakishly muscle-y little biceps and triceps. I’m jealous of my 18-month old daughters’ ability to feel every emotion to her very core.
If only she could read, she’d be the most talented actor I know.
She experiences every emotion with the gas peddle all the way to the floor. She lives every moment at 100%. And she feels no need to apologize for her feelings, even after she looks at you with disgust or anger.
Watching her experience and process her own emotions leaves me awestruck.
Sometimes it’s just the simple things. Like this morning when she saw me with rollers in my hair for the first time. Her eyebrows lifted to her hairline and her little mouth turned into a perfect “o” shape. PURE SURPRISE.
Or like a few hours ago when she met Santa Claus for the very first time. Her brow knit together and her mouth stretched wide, showing all 5 of her little teeth. PURE FEAR.
Or like last night when we went to see our friend sing in the Wicker Park Chorus. This was my daughter’s first “theatrical” experience. (I thought we’d be safe to test out the back row; in case of an incident, we could easily slip out.)
After the first song, which was beautiful, there was a strangely long pause before the applause began. After the second song, the same long pause started to happen. Till my daughter yelled “YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!!!!!!!!!” at the top of her lungs and started clapping her hands wildly.
This unabashed reaction created quite the commotion amongst the polite and quiet crowd. As I sat there dumbfounded, embarrassed, and worried, everyone else turned to her, clapping and laughing. It was almost as if her freedom to express her deepest thoughts in that moment reminded people that it’s exciting to fully express joy and happiness. Her joy shifted the entire energy of the room!
As an adult, when was the last time you let a room full of strangers know how happy you were about something?
On the flip side of this, she also feels the “bad” stuff at 100%. Like the time she BURST into tears, with no warning, because she saw me crying for the first time. She immediately reacted, huge tears rolling down her face. She then reached out to rub my arm, something she had clearly learned from me, as a way to comfort her when she’s sad. Her ability to empathize with me in that moment was astounding. And of course, this emotional exchange made me cry more (out of amazement and love) but my crying made HER cry harder and louder (out of fear and sadness). So we were just a big ol’ mess, but I’ve gotta say, it was worth it.
I know, intellectually, that it’s impossible for an adult to walk around like a big open wound all the time, feeling everything at a level ten. I mean, if I went around yelling my inner most thoughts, or comforting people that look sad all the time, they’d definitely throw me in the loony bin.
But at least for a few moments onstage, or in class, we get to work toward that place of complete freedom. That place where we are allowed, and praised, to feel everything and anything, without apology.
So right now in this moment, as I’m writing this, I no longer feel jealous.
I feel relief. And excitement. I’m thankful to get to go onstage and feel everything to the fullest, even if it’s just for a few moments, or hours a day.
And I’m thankful that I can leave this “hot mess” of a person onstage, walk off, and live my daily life like a normal human being.
And I’ll try my hardest to teach my daughter how to do that too, when the time comes.
