In Hiding

The neighborhood that I grew up in was and still is predominately white. Everyone was white, catholic and Irish and/or Italian. We weren’t. I guess that’s what made me start to hide our realities, starting at a very young age. Our reality was poverty. We were on welfare. We received Medicaid and food stamps. My mother was mentally ill. She needed massive amounts of medication to function. My father was so angry and bitter about their divorce that he did not provide her with much child support. It was difficult for my mother to maintain a job. We were Jewish, but my mother loved Christmas, so we celebrated that, maybe she was into hiding too?

How did we hide? I would clean our entire apartment. I would organize and redecorate. I would spend my babysitting money on anything to improve our apartment: new curtains, tiles, artwork, paint, and more. I would hide all of my mother’s pills. I would drape a blanket over the couch and arrange our throw pillows. I staged a “normal” home. I made our outside look “normal” too. I’d make my mom bring me to buy flowers, bushes, and gardening supplies. Then, I would spend hours gardening. I started “staging” our life when I was 9 years old. Have you ever seen a 9 year old use hedge cutters? I did.

This facade wasn’t just physical. I would lie when anyone inquired about my religion. I would insist that my mother was catholic and my father was Jewish. My mother didn’t care, she was so depressed and anxious, she’d do anything I told her to do. She knew I meant well. Keeping up this facade, was so exhausting. I didn’t have time to be a child.

I’ve only admitted to myself recently, even after I put myself through Catholic religious classes and received sacraments, that I am actually Jewish.

I’m not sure I have a religion, but I’m happy I was finally able to admit who I really am, 35 years later. I’m done hiding.

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