Sudden Bloom

I don’t understand why it happens that way. I really don’t. It’s like someone flicks a switch and the memories choke me out. Things that I don’t let get under my skin, they burrow in as soon as they see that I’m vulnerable… and then they rip their way out again, leaving me silent, watery-eyed, and unable to paste that fake smile on with so much ease.
I was at work, and heard a conversation of my coworkers, and it made me think of an event that I don’t exactly keep a secret, but I don’t entirely feel like posting on the Internet yet. Usually when I think of that Incident, I glue to the end of the memory “it has made me who I am today, and was a necessary event to change me. It is also in the past, and thus has no holding on what you do today” and I smile and shrug off the negativity that surrounds those memories.
But then, when I go a long time without thinking about it, or especially if I have had a lot of fun and been relatively carefree, the memory will strike me on the spot, and leave me motionless. My eye will start twitching. My teeth grind. My hands shake with anger and regret. And suddenly, if faced with someone who wants to torment me, I become less passive, even looking into their eyes and telling them to go to Hell and be prostrated by cast iron spikes. I can become unbelievably dark and creepy– which explains why, after freshman year in high school, I changed. I didn’t want to be myself anymore. I would look in the mirror and wish that my face was gone. I would even secretly contemplate using my father’s shotgun while I was home alone– but decided I wouldn’t hurt my father or step-mother, who I knew loved me, by doing something like that.
I have never tried to hurt myself physically, because I know I wouldn’t have the guts to finish what I start, and I don’t want to be covered in the scars of my cowardly failures. I would feel like a piece of paper with markings on it– markings that would never fully erase. Already, I felt like that– and any addition to those markings, ones that everyone else could see, at that… No. I didn’t want that. So I hid behind a smile and what everyone wanted me to do. Even now, I am not fully who I want to be, because I am too afraid of my family’s criticism.
There is more to this, but I am going to put it separately. It is a novel of its own, really, and with how close it is to my heart, I want to give it a separate face– away from my depression. I might not post it tonight– but if anyone is curious… Just ask me about Zaiyo.

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Sorry It Took So Long: Inspiring Video Of The Week: 3 Doors Down- Away From the Sun!

I know what you’re thinking: I waited a little long to post the video on the blog– but I had to get some sleep, and by time it was uploaded, it was almost 4 in the morning. I was supposed to get up at 8:30, so I could go pay a bill before work– I woke up 40 minutes late for work, to the sound of someone from work calling me and telling me I was supposed to be there. I panicked.

It has been a day– but not a bad one! Anyway, on a more relevant note, this is the video I threw together this week. Years and years ago, when my school life was hell (that never really changed, so… the earlier years, to be a bit more specific), I found this song, and later, the video. It inspired me, and even today, watching it, it can cause me to tear up. Now, for the benefit of those who might not fully understand the video, or the song– I will put a brief interview that I found last night of the band speaking about the song and its video. The concept is one that everyone can identify with– not just people who go through the same torments as the kid in the video. As Brad (the lead singer of 3 Doors Down) so rightly said, “We’re all in a struggle… We’re all trying to climb that hill.”

Ahead of Time

Since I will be starting work Monday, it will be a bit hard to get the Inspirational Song of the Week out that morning, so I will post it late Sunday night. I won’t give any spoilers what it will be, but I will say that, had I heard this song while I was still in school, my time in school would have been much less painful. I recommend this song to anyone who feels like they’re beat down.

In fact, today I’m going to try and get as many of these videos ready, in case I don’t have time next week. And I will restate that anyone who wants me to make a lyrical video, do leave a comment, and I will try to get it in the near future!

“What Are You Thinking?”

Frequently, in the middle of anything I’m doing, whether it be enjoying a vacation that my boyfriend’s family was kind enough to invite me to, or sitting back playing video games, or writing, or drawing, or singing, hell—anything—I will suddenly think of something admittedly minute and pitiful from my childhood that still causes doubt and fear in me. As explored in other posts, I am extremely awkward—so much so, in fact, that most of my childhood memories involving interaction caused me almost physical pain with how depressingly fumbling they were.

Now, I was sitting in my living room, eating my breakfast of spaghetti and hot chocolate (go on and laugh, it was really good) and suddenly my satisfaction was sapped away. Why? Flashbacks. Angered that it would strike so early in my day, I decided I would do something about it. And the only thing I know to do is to finally talk to someone about it. The one true secret I’ve ever kept from anyone: Why I hate myself so much.

Now, some of these things might make you laugh—and that is exactly why I don’t share them. I remember these instances and immediately face-palm or threaten myself. I’ve tried everything to make the memories  not affect me so, but it is not just an uphill battle—it is like fighting a giant—and that only works in anime and movies. I don’t have jetpacks, a gun, or anything that would threaten someone even three inches taller than me—especially if it is something in my head. I am, I suppose, my own greatest enemy. But, clichés aside, I suppose I must quit stalling and come clean.

Instance one:

I was in kindergarten, and the teacher asked the class if penguins had fur or feathers. I raised my hand and said fur. The teacher seemed a bit skeptical and asked how I knew that, and I said… (internal wincing) “My stuffed cat, Ridona, told me.” I have no idea what possessed me to say that, but it caused great amusement for everyone else. I sat there, holding back tears as everyone laughed and made fun of me. I suppose that answer was easier to tell the teacher than “The way you asked the question made me wonder if you were trying to make us say feathers, so you could explain why we were wrong.” In other words, I overthought it, and said the first thing that came to mind, rather than try to explain why.

Instance two:

I was in elementary school, probably third grade. Growing up poor is never fun, as I’m sure many people know (duh). It’s even less fun when your hand-me-down pants are too small for your rapidly growing body. I remember being in the stall, trying to get my pants up after using the bathroom, and I had to jump around to get the jeans over my thighs. I jumped awkwardly and hit the door—and behind the door was a group of snobby fashion-prick girls, and when I hit that door, they couldn’t contain themselves. They laughed, and I realized they had been watching me, God knows why, and had seen me jumping around and grunting, trying to stuff my growing figure into my jeans. I emerged hurriedly, already crying, and ran out of the restroom in shame. Since then, I never use public restrooms unless I absolutely have to.

Sorry if this post seemed to be more like, “I hate my life and I’m a terrible pathetic person, wah, wah, wah” but that was not my aim. My aim was to finally, and without fear, put some instances of my personal torment out for anyone to see—so that way I won’t feel as ashamed anymore. These things are stupid—I know that—and not worth crying over, and yet for the past ten + years of my life, they have caused me much grief—and there are many more! If I think of any others, I will post them as well, if it doesn’t bother anyone. These are things that I haven’t even told my mother—and I hesitate to talk to my boyfriend about, because I know what his reaction will be: “That was a long time ago, it means nothing, you should just laugh about it.” but it’s hard to laugh about something that even  now keeps you in a stranglehold.

Anyway, wish me luck! I have much to do today, and not much optimism left after having thought about those things so thoroughly. When I come home, I hope to see some responses. Am I the only one with these tiny little thorns in my brain, or is it common? Anyway, I am going to go sing “Tied My Hands” by Seether until I feel better, because I really love that song, and singing is proven to make you feel better—I’ve tested it out since I was young(er).

Until later, The Understandably Xenophobic Nina Crowlace