"Do you think you could just be lazy?" she said.
Which, frankly, knocked me for six, took my breath away and made me cry right there in her office. It left me struggling to explain that I know what lazy feels like; lazy is when you know there's something to do, but don't because you chose not to; doing something else is more enjoyable.
It's not, as I described it to her, either completely forgetting nearly everything unless I'm reminded, nor is it the state of knowing I have to do something, wanting to do something, but finding myself seizing up and somehow incapable of doing it, paralysed into doing something else entirely and incapable of even thinking about my 'to-do' list without having an anxiety attack.
I alluded to, although not going into in too much detail (I was too upset) how much baggage I carry from being constantly told I'm lazy, by teachers and adults all my childhood, of being told that I was 'lazy' and a 'disgrace' and I'd better 'pull my socks up' when I was struggling so hard so constantly, and making myself too upset to work.
I remember, 11 years old, spending lunch after lunch sitting in the library drawing the same picture over and over again because I couldn't go out to play until I'd finished the homework it was a part of, but I had found a 'wall' in the task of drawing the picture of the kind I'd grow to know and hate later, that wall that, while it may not be done in an objective term, somehow stops me from doing more. The wall that always stops me from proofreading, or from completely tidying any one room, or just generally stops me completing any one task. And the more my teacher would scold and humiliate me, the less able I was to complete it. It wasn't laziness.
I remember staging one of my 'alright I'm going to overdose on paracetamol and THEN YOU'LL BE SORRY' tantrums because - well, I can't remember what household task I'd failed to do, but the phrase 'parasite on this house' was used.
If I was just 'lazy', I'd just be able to stop
being lazy. If I was just 'lazy', I wouldn't have to work so hard to not be, I could just... stop.
I have decided to tell myself she asked me if I was lazy in order to see what reaction she could elicit. Because I hardly know this woman and I don't want to dislike her yet.
GIP, in a way. If you're reading this on DreamWidth, you won't be able to see the icon
, but I'm proud of it for it's simplicity. Words and art from 52, and in reference to Renee Montoya's meditation while training to become the Question.