I walked on tip toes for a good few years after learning to walk – I must have known the importance of having to stay quiet
When I was told of for sneezing at the dinner table, I learned to sneeze, without making a noise
Dont touch the water when peeing, too noisy
Turn the TV down – I don’t want to hear it – came the voice from the kitchen
Knowing which floorboards were creaky on the stairs, and avoiding them
Helped to know this, so that ‘operation turn bedroom light off’ could be invoked when these same stairs were landed on by those whose noise was constant.
As well as mild, and loyal – being quiet was a survival strategy, don’t make a noise
Dont draw attention….away from the one who’s attention was demanded
Dont touch the piano– unless you’re going to play its properly
I dont want you to learn the violin – ‘I cant bear the sound’
And as for other noises…
No burping or swearing allowed.
No raised voices.
Learning to be quiet – it was the only way.
No shouting, no anger, no aggression
Nothing to upset the monster.
Creeping quietly around the house, hoping not to be found.
Sneaking into the front room, whilst she was in the kitchen.
A parent with a ‘do not disturb’ sign hung permanently around their neck.
This wasn’t because she was working from home with a major investment project – or on the phone to clients – or with friends round – we were an inconvenience, unless useful.
My role every day was to set the video each morning, to record the lunchtime episode of neighbours so we could watch at 4pm after school, so that she could be cooking at that time for when Dad got home. That was the ‘shared’ family moment – watching TV, the rest of the time..
‘Do not disturb’
Quiet toys, lego (get them out one by one, don’t make a mess or a noise)
Trains that didn’t have batteries
Pocket calculators, chess, colouring
Books to read
Toys that didn’t involve anyone else to play with, so I could be on my own, all the time.
Only one person could make a noise, only one person could dominate the sound.
Other noise was a threat.
Challenge it was seen to rebel. So stay quiet.
What happens when you’re scared to make a noise? Utter inhibition.
Learning to be quiet
Learning to stay invisible , except where it was acceptable, on the trophy shelf.
Noise was shameful, noise was disrespectful
Noise challenged, noise rebelled
So to comply, and to be loyal, I stayed quiet. Until I learned
Until I learned how quiet had damaged me, and others around me, until I realised I could use my voice, speak and let my heart rise again.
I realise the other day how much ‘second-guessing’ that accompanied every decision I had to make – to do with something that was about me.
One of the consequences of being ‘Born to be loyal’ was that what accompanied it was the fear of stepping out of line. Conformity was embedded. As was the sheer terror of her, mother. Upsetting her, making her angry, all of which she was capable of being at anything- or nothing.
What this meant for me, was that to keep myself safe I was fulfilling the role. Survival meant the survival of the mildest, the quietest.
This was reflected in everything I did.
The children books that I read were comics and Roald Dahl, toys were lego and trains.
I didn’t listen to music – in fact music was practically banned in the house, except TV soundtracks (this was the music on cassette tape in the car on family holidays, or tape childrens books) TV soundtracks…and my parents were around during the 1960’s but you wouldn’t know it – its as if they went through the 1960’s in an evangelical cult, avoiding the real world. So, no music. So what was my first single. I was a child of the 1980’s… Duran Duran, Pet Shop Boys, Metallica, Guns n Roses? – nope…. A TV theme song…. yes that one from ‘Neighbours’ 1989, Angry Anderson – there’s an irony, the closest I got to angry from the age of 11 – mild song, mild me.
The same theme continued – having to stay safe with music, the most rebellious I got, was to play Meat Loaf loud – and then I was made to feel guilty for it, or asked – ‘Are you sure to be listening to this’? yuk yuk.
But it meant I didnt buy songs with swearing in, and kept things safe. How many 17 year olds were listening to christian worship music?
Born to be wild… yeah… frankly anything but….
Mild.
So that I didnt have to ask them for anything, I worked from the age of 13, paper rounds, babysitting, and then retail work. Id learned not to ask for what I wanted or needed – but I noticed that even when I bought things it was interrogated – certain things were a ‘waste’ of my own money…too many sweets.. or ‘shouldn’t you be saving some of that’ .
Everything I chose to buy, even with my own earned money – was commented on or interrogated.
What I realised was that I hated any comment from them, it was never genuine, it was loaded, with patronising criticism, jealousy, or projection.
‘Is it Christian?’
‘are you sure thats appropriate?’
‘Should you be listening to that?’
‘Don’t you think you should have been home earlier’
So I had to second guess what I bought for myself.
Useful things were ok, like a bike, a hi-fi, camera – but given that I had the money to buy clothes – I still had to buy ‘bargains’ or safe clothes that weren’t rebellious. Usually plain, unless it was the favourite checked shirt or waist coat – or football tops. What I realise now, is that my second guessing brain was in charge of my purchasing. I remember going to Leicester on a few occasions, armed with a few hundred pounds, and not able to buy clothes I liked – but trying to buy clothes that weren’t too expensive, were reasonable, and didnt stand out , spending hours walking between three different shops to try and make a decision about a shirt, a jacket, jeans or whatever it was.
I was in a teenage body, but reasoning decisions like a frightened child or adult – and not anything like a normal teenager would be.
Mild – also wasn’t going out, getting drunk, coming back late. Nothing external to rebel.
Mild was babysitting at a friends house on New Years eve, so that I could finish A level homework – and still being told off for being late home. When my 18 yr old friends were getting drunk. Mild.
Mild was doing a Christian gap year at the end of those A levels, but this didnt fit in with their plans/trophied expectations – still a mild way to rebel.
Mild – I remember not being allowed to have to colours I wanted in my room – they were too bright. I wanted Red….but a brighter red that I was allowed.
As a consequence of being born to be loyal, survival meant being born to be mild. Being the safe, invisible, oldest child. Doing nothing to upset the apple cart, not asking or needing, not standing out, not rebelling, not noisy, conform.
I was easily criticised for being indecisive. I had to over think every ‘seen as selfish’ decision – and so this paralysed my decision making. In fact, strange how the persons who caused the indecision that criticised me for being indecisive at times. Utterly overthinking, second guessing, trying to please, partly, moreover, trying to not upset, trying to not stand out, trying to be stay invisible, trying to stay loyal, meant born to be mild.
Why did I notice recently how mild I had to be?
Because for the last few years I have bought my own clothes. I put colour in my choice of socks, I bought even more checked colourful shirts and t shirts. I now take my inner child shopping, and little James has fun trying on things, trying on fun things, being brave with colour. Little James makes impulse buys. Little James is growing a music collection.
James Ballantyne 