For those unfamiliar with ABC’s comedy The Middle,
Sue Heck portrays a wonderfully tragic teenager who tries her hardest at
everything, but is constantly rejected. Because she always pulls herself back
up, the audience can’t help but root for her. She never gets what she
ultimately wants, yet she finds the genuine happiness with whatever she winds
up with. Her cheerfulness is annoyingly addictive. By the end of each episode,
viewers actually believe that something extraordinary will happen to her. She
is the quintessential beacon of hope that every mother dreams her daughter
could be…if life resembled a thirty minute sitcom.
In reality, moms fear children like her. See, I know
this because I live with a real Sue Heck. My daughter is fueled by her hopes
and dreams. In her mind, her goals are always attainable, even if those goals
involve opening the first ever dragon training school. When it comes to her own
abilities, she doesn’t quite understand the word “can’t”. She is the most
admirable ten year old little girl I’ve ever met.
(Insert record scratch here) Then there’s me-the
realist. For the record, realists are not without hope. We are just
better prepared for life’s onslaught of shitstorms. I am always aware of the
equal possibility of success or failure in any given situation. But when my
sweet daughter embarks on something new, failure does not exist…that is, until
it does.
Because of my daughter’s loyalty to optimism, there
have been a collection of gut-wrenching moments for me to endure over the
years. With each disappointed smile she gives me when she doesn’t get the part
in the play, the mom in me dies a little on the inside. With every “don’t worry
mom, I bet I’ll make it next year”, my practical side gets nervous and
internally whispers, “what if you don’t?” With the positive spin she puts on
each disheartening outcome, the realist in me covertly cries for her, while the
mom on the outside tries to match her enthusiasm for what’s next.
She will never know about my anxiety each time I
drop her off at an audition, or how I shed a few tears in the shower when she
declares that she will keep trying until she gets it. My worry does not come
from a lack of faith in her or an expectation of failure. Amazed by her
continuously upbeat attitude, I fear that, eventually, the rejection will wear
on her, giving her a reason to give up. I’m afraid that there may come a time
when her ambition will be history, and the strong, positive little girl I know
and love will have disappeared into a mini version of me-the realist.
I want her to hold on to the optimism, so that I can
try to hold on with her. But if I can’t, she has at least shown me how to be happy
with the unexpected mediocrity that life may hurl in my direction. She has
taught me that it’s not really about the problems in life, but more about my
reaction to the problems that will make the real difference.
I am grateful for my Sue Heck. And though, at times,
her light may be too bright for me, I look forward to walking in her shadow
with my sunglasses on.
*This piece was published on BLUNTmoms on August 1, 2016.
