What, do you want a medal or something...?

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I was excited about something. I had accomplished something — something relatively minor, but very exciting to me. I had run part of the way home. I was a young teenager. I burst into our home and announced my big news to whomever was there. I know my mom was there for sure, and at least one brother. 

“Guess what!? I did _______ and got ______!!” (I’m so proud of myself! Aren’t you happy for me?)

I stood there for what seemed to be a long time. Just beaming, excited. My brother and mom stared.

Then, a smile twitched at her face, and she began to giggle. It was a very true giggle. She was trying to hold it back, but something seemed really funny to her. Like if the pastor's fly was down, or if I had a tuft of hair sticking straight up and I didn’t know it. That kind of funny.

“What...do you want a medal or something?” She blurted out, and laughted, trying to control herself. 

Then my brother laughed. And — I think I laughed along. What other choice did I have?

I have no idea what I had been excited about. None of them thought it was very interesting. I guess maybe it was bad to be proud anyways. After laughing, I probably just went to my dark windowless 8x8x8 room and fiddled with things. I guess there wasn’t much to be excited about in the first place…

My family remembered that saying: “What — do you want a medal or something?” We would say if often to one another. Perhaps this was not the first time someone had said it to me. However, I think this was the last time that I shared my exuberance with my mom. I learned that day that excitement for my small joys and victories was not contagious in my home. Others would not see, care about, or celebrate the person I was becoming. If it did not benefit them, they were not really interested. And if I came asking them to be happy for me, it was that. It was an ask. A ridiculous ask, apparently. An ask that became a perpetual joke.
“What, do you want a medal or something.”


Because if it’s genuine love that you are looking for, and someone to rejoice when you rejoice and weep when you weep, you have come to the wrong woman, my son…

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