Today’s guest post comes from Deborah Bryan of The Monster in Your Closet. As soon as I discovered Deb, I was struck by her strength and thoughtfulness, which come through so clearly in her writing. It’s my pleasure to give you a glimpse here. –Tamara
(What’s up with all the guest posts around here lately?)
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“Your mom must be so proud,” seethed the woman’s voice from behind the screen door.
Three minutes earlier, I’d been savoring rare moments to myself. Between working full time, commuting an hour each way every day, raising a very young son, and grappling with the aftermath of my mom’s recent death to cancer, life was something I was enduring more than enjoying.
In the moments I was able to simultaneously walk my dog and read, I found some respite.
This particular evening, I hadn’t paid close attention to my dog. He’d peed on someone’s lawn rather than their lawn strip. I was too tired and desperate to even notice this until expletives and threats started issuing from the house.
I was so tired, I didn’t even realize they were directed at me until I heard the words “Library Girl.” An exclamation point flashed over my head and I looked up in surprise. Instead of continuing on, I walked back and took a step up the walkway.
“Excuse me?”
The speakers, a man and a woman by their voices, were hidden behind a security door, and thus emboldened to speak as harshly as they desired. Strength in numbers and a sense of anonymity were certainly components of “security” that ran deeper than their door.
I shared a few thoughts with them, earning more swearing and threats. I said, “Imagine the trouble that would’ve been avoided if you’d just said, ‘Please don’t let your dog pee on our lawn’ instead.”
When the woman said, “Your mom must be so proud,” I threw my head back and laughed.
I was whisked back in time to composing with her a letter urging our school district to fire a teacher who was bullying my sister.
I remembered my mom kicking out my abusive dad, despite choruses from her family that she wouldn’t have to endure abuse if she would just be a good enough wife.
I relived her explaining the importance of testifying in court, no matter how scary it was. I recalled how my heart swelled with pride a few years later when she publicly called out the perpetrator in that case; he’d spotted her and tried to intimidate her, not realizing I was nearby, but her words sent him running. I understood power better in that moment than I ever had before.
Invigorated by these memories, I faced the present situation with shoulders squared.
“Who do you think taught me to stand up for myself?” I asked.
Shaking my head, I walked away with tears in my eyes and said a quiet thanks to my mom. I hoped she could hear me, wherever she was.
I’ve been more careful since to make sure my dog always stays off lawns. I get it. I do. No matter how tired I may be, this is and should always have been a given.
Now, whenever I walk my dog, I imagine my mom is with me. No one else can see her as we walk together, but I can feel her, most especially as I walk by That House and remember those scornful words.
Spoken in anger, they nevertheless reminded me of something it remains important for me to hold near:
When I speak up in the face of bullying, my mom not only lives on in me, but sings to me.
Heck, yeah, she’s proud!
Just as I am proud to be her daughter.
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Deborah only spends a small portion of each day writing YA novels, but she’s constantly busy with words. Even when she’s not writing for herself (she daren’t say “for pleasure,” since that’s not quite right), she’s almost certainly reading, looking forward to reading, or negotiating—sometimes in her role as a software contract negotiator, but mostly with her toddler.
I love this more than I can put into words. You have so much strength, girl. When I was little I used to get embarrassed over my confrontational mama, but now when I stand up for myself and others without batting an eye, I’m so thankful for her teaching. What would this world be without mothers? No doubt a fearful place. Thank you so much for this.
I used to get embarrassed, too! “Oh, geez, mom, did you really need to bring a tank to that encounter? A little dart would’ve been OK. Really.” Later, I started to see situations where no one stood up for someone who’d been hurt and felt profound gratitude for how my mom always stepped up to ensure I never, ever felt alone in the face of adversity (or otherwise).
Thank you so much for reading, and for this comment–hear, hear to the whole of it!
Deb, in one very short piece you have made such a powerful statement about who we are and from where we get our strength.
Thank you, Renee. I wasn’t sure what I’d write about until I walked by that house in one moment of wondering. The answer seemed so clear in that moment, and I’m glad for even that; through these memories and moments, it really is as if my mom stands with me. It’s a sweet feeling indeed.
I sent this to my daughter as soon as I read it. I watch her coming into the strength she learned from her Mom. I did good when I married my wife and celebrate what her daughter was able to learn from her.
Your comment fills my heart with so much joy. In a few sentences, you manage to express so amazingly much love. Thank you for reading, for sharing this, and for marking the goodness being passed on from your wife to your daughter.
I love Buddy’s comment.
Seconded! I think I’m going to sneak peeks at it for a pick-me-up for a long time to come.
Your mother sounds like an absolutely beautiful woman.
I know I’m biased, but to me, she was (and remains) the most beautiful woman in the world. Thank you so much for allowing me to share her with you!
Thank you so much for taking the time to find the words to share her with us! You (both of you) brightened my Friday
Great post. I just don’t understand how people can be so mean and nasty, especially over something this trivial. As a teacher, I have had to learn to grow a thick skin and be very forgiving, but you never really totally get over it. It’s terrible, but your post makes me think of a particular scene in “Me, Myself and Irene” as a possible alternative to how you actually responded. You either know the scene or you don’t.
I don’t know the scene, but I’m going to ask my honey if he knows once he’s out of Snoozeville! (He often refers to a couple of scenes from the movie, none of which are probably the one referenced here. 8)
I remember I used to tell everyone off for everything. There was no slight too small to escape my noticing! With time, a little patience, and a year or so on the job negotiating contracts, I saw so clearly the difference between people who’d been treated to honey and those who’d been treated with stinging in any given case. I started holding my tongue and realized that by holding it, I was making my world a much, much sweeter place to be.
I wish I could readily transfer this knowledge, but it makes me grateful for every time someone could be mean/abrupt . . . but shows grace instead. I love to see those moments!
Yay for strong moms! And yay for daughters who love their mothers! =) Good post!
Ditto on the first part, and thanks and the last!
Your words are beautiful and deeply resonate with my heart – my dad passed away unexpectedly when I was 18 – two weeks before I left for college.
Thanks for sharing with us, Deborah.
One of my recent posts was actually about how hard I was on my mom during my high school/early college years. (I am just now starting to fulfill her prophecy I’d be a mom and understand her someday.) Reading this I’m both sorry for your loss then and even more grateful for my mom’s patience through those trying years.
Thank you so much for reading, Adrian, and for taking time out to share your thoughts.
Deb, this is such great reminder in rejoicing in our families… and a note on why some people simply DESERVE to have their lawns peed on
Have I ever told you what an amazing knack you have for making me laugh? I love you for that, and of course your heart!
Another powerful post from you, Deb. One thing that was taught to me several years ago was that you never really know where a person is coming from. I try to remember this. That couple had no idea who you were on that day, in that moment. They had no idea the space you were in. Folks really should keep that in mind before they so quickly judge and admonish another person’s moment of absentmindedness.
But more to the point of this post, you really convey your strength, your mother’s legacy, and a sense of continuity that permeates life. Love this post, as usual.
you never really know where a person is coming from.
I try to remember this when I’m driving. Doing this has been the best cure for my road rage. I imagine everyone who makes a crazy move is driving to the hospital for their last moments with a loved one and I find it a lot easier to let it go. Most people probably aren’t, but as we discussed in Crim Law when I was a 1L, it’s better (in principal easily applied to this case!) to let ten guilty men walk free than to convict one innocent.
Thank you, Chris, for your wonderful comment. You have quite a way with those!
Great tips. I’ll try to use that while driving. I’ve gotten much better with calm driving since I’ve had to drive half an hour each way to work for the past 2+ years. And it was an hour each way for the first 7 months or so! I usually remind myself, “Clear the way! They’ve got somewhere to go!” Because, clearly, my driving is always of the joyride variety. I’ll try picturing them on their way to the hospital and bless them on a safe journey.
Deb, thank you so much for sharing this post with us. Like you, I’ve learned my strength from my mother. I’m glad to give you opportunity here to honor yours.
Thank you so much for the opportunity to guest post here! Your readers’ words have been such a blessing, as has your support.
I only regret that I didn’t check my link over from my page until this morning. Did I get it wrong? You betcha! But it’s fixed now.
Happy Sunday, and thank you again!
Love this! It makes me reflect on the ways in which I am like my mom and the way she’s like my grandma. Three generations of generous, lovely women. I am proud of the legacy I’ve inherited. And it sounds like you are, too.
I absolutely am. I’m also, reading this, grateful for the chance to see a little of the generations in your life. That continuity is a beautiful gift, to live or to witness!
Wow, I’m so glad I read this and I’m going to go over and read the entries you linked to. Once we discovered the character Julia Sugarbaker of “Designing Women”, my mother earned the nickname The Terminator. Because much like Julia Sugarbaker, my mom was a liberal, feminist woman who took crap from nobody, honey, I mean nobody! She is this tiny little woman who still works as a teacher for GED students (most of whom are court-ordered to be in her class) and has no problem snatching cell phones and other stuff from their hands when they’re not paying attention to her. She’s stood up to people swearing and cursing her out without a whimper until she got home where it is safe to be scared and cry.
And she’s taught me to do this too. I’m facing some weirdness of my own right now where standing up for myself is super scary and may even result in the loss of my job. But darn it if I don’t need to do this. I made a mistake. My dog accidentally peed on the lawn of my employers and even in my apology and work towards never letting it happen again, I’m still being bullied.
As scary and depressing and unsettling it is to know that coming down the pipeline is a whole mess of meetings and “she said/she said”s, I know that now is my time to stand. And my mom, could she be there, would be standing with me nodding her head in agreement every time I have a counter and present it professionally.
Man, did I need to read this today. i’ve been feeling so sorry for myself lately. But I think your post has helped me realize that I’ve got spitfire in my blood too and to never let the bullies win.
Thank you for guest posting!!! And thanks, Tamara, for weirdly being psychic and asking Deborah to post this today of all days (God is eerie sometimes isn’t He?)
I am so, so glad to read that you’re standing up for yourself; in fact, my gladness is about proportionate to the size of my chagrin you’re still being bullied over such a thing. When I read about the things people hold grudges over, it makes me very, very grateful to recall some of my own transgressions and recognize the goodness of being surrounded (largely) by folks who believe in the merits of forgiveness and letting go.
I wish you all the best in sorting out this situation! It might not go your way (although I hope it does), but if that’s the case you’ll still have the comfort of knowing your strength in the face of adversity. I truly believe this is a gift, because it imparts a confidence that wouldn’t be as full without!
Love it Deb! My family always snicker and say I am my mom’s clone, and to me that is a compliment. I have no trouble stopping people in the street, knocking on doors, and even following people into their driveways to make gentle suggestions on how to better their driving skills. I do get better results with honey, but sometimes people need a good whack upside the head!
I do get better results with honey, but sometimes people need a good whack upside the head!
This is a true story! Sometimes people are startled when I shift into say-what? mode, because I try to be affable as long as I possibly can in any situation. (I wish I could report a 100% success rate in this endeavor, but I’m getting better every year!) I’m not mean when I shift into this mode, but I am very, very direct and not interested in excuses. Fortunately, I don’t have to bust this out often, but I’m glad to be comfortable using both approaches in turn.
Although I don’t appreciate dogs’ peeing (or worse) on my lawn, I can’t imagine being uncivilized about it. Now the yipping little dog next door . . .
Absolutely understood! I don’t know if it ever happened before, but it’s certainly never happened since.
I know this is an aside, but I keep witnessing something totally baffling to me about fellow dog folks in my neighborhood. There’s a beautiful corner house that actually offers bags and politely requests folks use them if they’ve forgotten their own. Do you suppose folks pay attention to the kind phrasing, or the free bags?
Nope. That lawn consistently has more abandoned dog “gifts” than any lawn anywhere around. This is so disappointing to me. How can people see this as a reasonable course of action in response to a gentle reminder, when they are supposed to pick up after their dogs 100% of the time anyway? It’s mind-boggling.
Beautiful and powerful, Deb. And it reminds me the importance of raising a strong daughter. Thank you.
Thank you so much, Leanne! I know I probably shouldn’t say this here, but . . . I hope I get the chance, too.
(If not? I’ll enjoy watching my niece grow up in the light of my sister’s strength and love!)
This is such a beautiful post. I will save it, and show it to my 5yo little girl when she’s old enough to understand. Although, believe me, she has no problem standing up for herself!
This is an amazing compliment! Thank you! (That “thank you” is just as much for the smile imparted by your last sentence. Love it!)
Thanks for featuring Deb, it’s a pleasure to find your blog.
There is so much power in this post Deb.I can feel the emotions, memories and resolve as it swirls in response to these casual words behind a screen of steel.
Your response did right by both you and your mom and although people don’t always know what they say, it’s wonderful that the lessons and wisdom your mom gave you through both words and example continue to shine through in your own words and actions.
A wonderful story and I hope you are enjoying the walks with your mom:)
I really am enjoying those walks, all the more since I discovered the joy of the Kindle app on my phone! Readwalking needn’t be done only by day anymore. 0:)
Good for you for standing up for yourself. I have absolutely no doubt your mum would have been proud. Just as I know the strength your mum showed and clearly passed to you will be passed to your son in turn. Yet another brilliant post Deb, thank you x
You manage so much goodness in a few words. “will be passed to your son in turn.” I’ve got something in both my eyes reading this. I hadn’t thought about it in this light, but I love the thought that is a piece of me he will hopefully reflect even after I’m no longer here to witness it. That is a beautiful thought indeed. Thank you, Molly. ♥
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I love this. You are an inspiration, Deb!
This reminds me to thank my mom for the many ways she formed my self-confidence over the years. I pray I can find the right way to do the same for my ridiculously talented, hilarious, brilliant, and quirky 4-year-old.