Article by Sophia Murphy Art by Chloe Jung
I would always get embarrassed when my mom would laugh. Bracing myself after every joke in a public situation, she would snort.
We would be at church, a dance recital, dinner with our family, meeting my friends. I would hope for a lack of humor and resent jokes, giving no opportunity for this commotion. Yet it would always come, this remark of joy that I would only regard with judgment. I would want to crawl under a rock and hide there until it was done.
My impatience with my mother was not just limited to this snorting. There were times where the rock I wanted to hide under wasn’t due to embarrassment, but lack of understanding of each other, constantly ending in frustration with her. Ending in sadness with us. I’d want to hide under that rock, hide away from constant conflict and anger. There was a time when it felt as though she and I could never escape from the depths of hell that is a middle school girl and their mother. It feels like every girl goes through the phase with their mom where all they can do is battle. Grades not good enough, skirts not long enough, my phone used too much. When you’re in this phase it feels as though it could only ever be this way. How could two people ever evolve and change so much that their heads aren’t constantly butting, their paths constantly colliding, tangled up in each other’s grievances?
The teenage years are hard; self love is infrequent and anger is common. You lack understanding of yourself, leading into your lack of understanding and empathy towards others. It’s often hard to love other people and give other people grace when you can’t even award it to yourself. Unfortunately for my relationship with my mom, she took the brunt of that phase in my life. My mind was spiraling and in any moment I could snap at her. Following was the guilt, following was the sadness and shame of how I could ever treat someone I loved, someone so caring, with immediate judgment and anger.
The answer to my “hows” and “whys” could only be found later in my life when I faced deep reflection of who I was, how I loved myself. I think I just didn’t think it was possible to be so authentically you, to laugh so freely and unravel your joy so that it intimidates others, so that it intimidated me. Intimidates in a way that makes you wish you could be them, your initial thought is judgment, but what you truly feel is longing, longing to be that free. My mother didn’t care if her laugh caught people off guard, she probably didn’t even think twice because it was just her. I cared about what other people thought, how other people perceived her, judging her through measures of how I would judge myself, judging her on the standards of perfection and alignment with normality that I set for myself. With the standards most teenage girls set for themselves.
I can’t remember the first time I snorted when I laughed, but I know immediately what I thought. I CAUGHT IT. SHE GAVE IT TO ME. Sure I understood now that she was awesome, but now I was really faced with the test of my own unraveling, of my own accepting. And here I was, scared and shocked that this beast had been released from within.
Over time this snorting became more frequent, it was something I kind of just expected if there was a really funny moment. Snorting started to accompany my laugh.
Snorting around my family became okay, even if my brother would make fun of me.
Snorting with Abby, Bella, Marisa, and Lucy became okay.
Snorting around those I loved and those who I knew would be kind was okay. I started to find the people that dragged me out from under the rock. Crushed and frail as first, my laughter started to expand me in every direction I was meant to grow.
I now realize there is beauty in the absurd, in the obnoxious, in the pure joy many lack, that I once lacked, and being able to express it so unapologetically. I mean, I think I’m at a point where I can’t even control it. And this almost makes me happier. I am so naturally her, which I guess is so naturally me. With uncontrollable and overflowing joy.
Everytime I snort I still feel slightly embarrassed. Like I let myself let loose and the people around me caught me in my moment of imperfection, of absurdity, of an obnoxiously loud commotion in the sea of steady laughter. I’ve started to find this embarrassment quickly transforming into an abundance of gratitude and love. My laughter often erupts more after I snort, and it usually triggers laughter from others, maybe at me, maybe with me, but it doesn’t matter because it’s something that I got from my mother. A part inside of me that I know I will always love.