Maslow’s Hierarchy of Expression by Christina Ochoa
First category of expression: Safety I don’t want to be seen. I don my oversized sweats like armor, to envelop me in the same way my depression has. They swallow every noticeable form, shape, and contour of my body. I become a clump of cloth, finding safety in the certainty of my anonymity. The gray halls of Olin are never-ending, always too full for my comfort. I float through them, a ghost. My earbuds block out the chatter, and my eyes look down to avoid seeing their faces. My world is the yellow tiles and my hoodie. My feet drag across the linoleum floors, only getting heavier as I approach the classroom. I signed up for this course. This is a core course for my major. If I don’t enjoy even this I must be a horrible student. A horrible student and a horrible person. A person with no direction or passions. What a sorry excuse for a human being. I’m just a strawman in a hoodie. Second category of expression: Presentation The subway is always an uncomfortable space. There is a silence that wraps itself around me like a protective blanket, accompanied with the gentle rumble of the train on its tracks that feels like a gentle lullaby. I cross my arms and rock with the movements of the subway. Everyone is focused on themselves. I know this, but I still feel whenever someone’s eyes pass over me. Especially when it’s a man’s eyes. I am waiting for someone to question my existence. I know they won’t, but I have my earbuds in just in case. There’s no reason to feel so afraid. You’re being stupid. Nobody would notice a stupid girl wearing a ratty tee who is just barely presentable. Another stop closer to my destination. People flow in and out of the train. I sit forward in my seat and take a deep inhale as the car starts to decongest with every stop further from the city center. I reach into my pocket and open my phone to avoid eye contact with 30 • zooming out
the other passengers. I arrive at my stop and walk out into the station. I look at the daze of people around me and hold my phone to my chest. People push past me, knocking me around the platform. I feel as though I am going to drown until I spot my friend in the crowd. “Hey!” He calls to me, “You look nice today” Third category of expression: Exploration We spent the morning hiking along a steep trail to reach an overlook. I’m out of breath, partly from the view, but mostly from the effort it took to get here. My breath feels jagged and lacking. “We should take some pictures while we’re here,” he suggests to me. I oblige. A month ago I would have said no; I probably wouldn’t have agreed to come on the hike at all. I’m grateful for his patience but worry that I’m a burden. Worthless. You’re nothing but a negative influence on his life. “Whoa, look at the bug on this tree!” He exclaims, causing me to laugh a little. The critter in question is a small beetle, donning a beautiful holographic cobalt shell as his cape. The critter crawls up the trunk of the tree with an admirable determination, carrying a leaf on its back. I feel comfortable in my outfit. The temperature allows me to cover up with a nice sweater, but I am no longer hiding. I want him to notice me, and tell me I’m beautiful. It took me a while to get ready this morning, but I like the way it feels to care. We take some pictures, immortalizing this moment forever. I feel better than I normally do. He knows this but chooses not to address it, careful not to break the streak of laughter and smiles. It’s the first good day after a lot of bad days, but I feel like I have reached a turning point in my journey to reclaim myself. Leaves crunch under my feet, and I feel the sensation as a part of me. I know that my past is close behind me, but I want to stay in the present. I want this moment to last forever before it fades away.
