The Couch
By Jahleese Ladson on Wed, 09/29/2010 - 13:03
They do it all the time. These people I live with. Everyone who lives here (besides myself, of course) either works or goes to school. This means that every day they are out on the street, riding public transportation, shaking hands, and generally collecting germs and grime. And then, they come home and relax on the couch. The couch which is also my bed.
It’s not that I don’t want to share the common space with everyone who lives here. I enjoy watching the occasional sitcom with my sister, playing "Dance Dance Revolution" with my younger brother, or just cuddling with my niece while we watch the latest Disney feature.
But, sometimes, I want the place to myself. Sometimes, I wish for true personal space instead of the room in which I sleep which is also the family room.
When I graduated in May, I was excited to experience life outside of the Smith “bubble.” I imagined a post-college life straight out of any sitcom about educated twenty-somethings. I wouldn’t have every luxury, but everything would be my own. I would be responsible for rent and groceries and, most importantly, I would have complete control of the remote. No more sharing a bathroom with twenty other women. And, if I could help it, absolutely no more twin beds.
Although the sofa bed has a full sized mattress, 1 out of 5 isn’t good. Well, not good enough.
One of the hardest things about coming home from school was the very abrupt loss of privacy I experienced. Smith College, voted for years the college with “dorms like palaces,” is a far cry from a pull-out bed in the family sofa. Whether I had lived in the lap of luxury at Smith or in a closet-sized room, what was most important was having my own space. It allowed me to grow and shape my sense of independence. It also gave me physical and emotional control over a specific area in my world. As a tenant of the couch, I don’t have much control. I can’t even control who sits on my bed.
Looking back, I wonder why I was in such a rush to leave Smith. In exchange for a few papers, and midterms every few weeks, I could close my door on the world when I needed to. Now that I’m faced with the uncertainty that is my present, I yearn for those moments when things were easier to figure out (although I didn’t realize it then), and wonder when things will be simpler again. My mother would probably tell me life doesn’t get am easier as you go along. She might be right, but I’m not willing to concede that point yet.
When I look at the bigger picture, I know that I am blessed. Coming out of college with no long-term job in place meant relying on my parents to support me. I recognize that for all the negative things the couch represents in this transitional period, it has an equally positive place. I pull out my “bed” every night and that 3-inch mattress on the rickety frame reminds me that this transitional period is just that. It's only temporary. So, instead of making me sad, the couch inspires me to stick to the goals I’ve set for myself. What are 22-year-old bodies made for, if not to handle sleeping on an unsupported mattress for 6 months?
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