A Glass Of Autonomy

Sips of empowerment

Ashley Sudeta

I’ve never broken a bone before, and I truly hope it’s because of all the milk I drank throughout my childhood. It’s not that I actually believe the milk did anything, it’s more that clinging to this idea helps me believe it was all worth it. If you ask me, milk is a vile beverage, a colloidal suspension with an unreliable taste and a penchant for going bad. Still, I had milk with my dinner almost every night until I was around 15 years old. Today, it’s been years since I last drank a glass of milk, and thinking about this evokes a sense of pride in myself.

Sure, doing things you don’t want to do is a part of life, but it’s stronger throughout childhood. For children, almost every choice is made for them, which can make obedience seem like the only option. So, as much as I hated drinking milk, I complied, begrudgingly accepting it as something unavoidable. I applied the same mindset to countless other things. I attended mass through my teens because I assumed it was necessary for being a good person, and I didn’t spend time with friends because I didn’t want to leave my brothers without a car.

At any age, the amount of things we do out of some abstract feeling of obligation is crushing. People often act against their wishes, simply because they believe they are powerless. It took me a disappointingly long time to recognize that I have even a semblance of autonomy. I have to remind myself every day that I can make my own decisions in life, and I still struggle to believe it. In these moments, I imagine concentrating all the calcium in my body into my spine. I stand taller, and tell myself I can have anything I want for dinner. Afterwards, I drink a Coke.