Marby Noffki

Becoming aware

April 24, 2008 |  18 comments
Image Credit: stockxpert For my mother, it was when she put shoes on by herself the first time and on the wrong feet. For my sister’s mother in law, it was when she fell on the ground after spinning herself dizzy. This was the moment that they first became aware of their own individuality, how they related to the family around them, as well as the world they lived in. Both were toddler aged, and from that point on, memories took a more solid, meaningful form. I don’t remember this moment. My earliest memories are a frightening series of fever hallucinations caused by tonsillitis, and the hospital. I don’t know if there was a moment that I seemed to wake up and take note of my place in the world around me. I was too busy hoping that the large chess pieces that rose from the floor would not devour me in my crib.

However, I have little doubt that there are people out there that do recall this moment, for it had to happen to us all at some point. It is that moment in which a person begins to create solid memory. It is the moment in which a person identifies who they are within the family unit and realizes their function within it. It is the moment that home is more than an abstract idea, and individuality emerges. Because this is a moment that probably occurs very early in childhood, and establishes so much, many of us will not remember it and simply assume that we just always knew. Yet, it makes sense to think that we did not know, because a baby has no concept of object permanence at the outset.

A baby comes into the world knowing only bodily functions, food, and sleep. It is in those early formative years that we develop personality, memory, and the basic skills to function as a human being. Realizations come to us as we grow and learn. I had a strong lisp as a child that disappeared overnight, and I recall screaming for my mother to let her know it. I don’t know the thought process that led to this realization that I could speak normally, but I do recall the excitement that came with it.I am sure we can all recall moments in which something that was previously difficult or hard to comprehend became clear. Those moments of clarity happen to us all and at any age, whether it is the realization that tying one’s shoes is not as complicated as it first seemed, or the sudden understanding of an algebra concept that at first seemed utterly foreign. It is the clarity that comes with learning a second language and actually following a conversation in that language that seemed like so much gibberish at first.

It is this clarity that we must all find at some point in our early childhood that shows us who we really are and how we fit in.

Perhaps my brush with death due to advanced tonsillitis was my moment, though I cannot honestly claim it is so simply because I was preoccupied with the hallucinations that would forever fuel a warped imagination. When I was older, probably five or so, I recall looking at my hands and pondering what “me” really meant, but by this time, I already knew my place in the family, where home was, and the fact that I was a being with my own thoughts and feelings. I just don’t remember the first time I knew these things as my mother does.

What do you remember? Comments (18)

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