To say that I am confused or that I don’t understand the things that have happened to me would be an understatement. I believe that under all the stress and mental illnesses that have crept in and hijacked my mind, I am still happy somewhere in there. To find that happiness again will be a major task, and I’m willing to take it on.
If I could have one wish granted, it would be for clarity and understanding of the problems I have at hand.
I have felt overweight and cumbersome this last week. When I imagine myself walking down the stairs, I feel like an overweight walrus and I can feel the fat on my thighs jiggling. I can’t wear anything but loose clothing because my stomach looks enormous and this all started when my mom mentioned that she saw me binge eating.. I hadn’t done that in a long time, but I did that once and ever since I have felt like my entire body is made out of lard.
My sister stormed out of the house today and drove two hours to stay with her boyfriend, and none of us are sure if she’s moving out or if this is temporary. My mom was in tears all night, she cried on my shoulder… Someone else’s wet tears on my bare skin is an uncomfortable feeling.
I’ve been through so much, what I’ve learned is that I do not like being alone. I cry when I’m alone. I hate myself when I am alone. I get angry about the mistakes I’ve made and scream when I’m alone. I yearn for companionship and to be loved when I am alone. If I had an instruction manual, it would say that I require partnership 24/7 and to be intensely cared for without me realizing it – once I am aware that someone loves me, I stop loving them. I detached myself and become emotionless toward them.
When I love someone and find out they love me too, it’s like maintaining masturbation when people are awake. You know you’ll have a hard time climaxing just because your little sister is screaming and your mom is yelling about how no one does the dishes – and any chance you had of continuing with pleasure goes down the drain because dirty dishes and climaxing are not compatible.
That’s what happens when someone loves me. I can’t maintain my feelings. They go away without any chance of revival, unless scenarios change.
I write, I move, I lose people I love, and the world goes on.
I finally made the decision to move to my mom’s, and it took me two years to finally come to terms with that. I knew it was what I needed to do, that all roads led here. It took that time to realize it would be the best, that it would make me happy.
I’ve had to juggle houses for so long, it doesn’t feel right staying in one place. I had to say goodbye to places and people. I’ve said goodbye to a lot of stuff, but the valley has been the hardest on me.
My last meeting, the last time I saw my Education Coordinator. He gave me a book, he told me about how he watched my growth in school. He handed me a folder of some of my most notable high school work. I cried.
I went to the parking lot, wishing I could pause time and say goodbye to every last thing there. Every place I had a special moment. Wishing I could give eternal hugs to every person I had come to know there. I cried.
My mom drove me out to my hometown, a little country town that’s mostly orange trees and cow pastures. We drove past my first house, and my second, third, and fourth. We passed people we once knew, but don’t anymore. Passed my first love’s house, he was out on his porch. Didn’t recognize us. We cried.
We kept driving, stopping in the town where I had been living these last three years. We stopped by my grandparent’s. Then to this mexican food establishment, I got some of my favorite tacos in all of the valley. Walked by the place Cadence works, by the place Megan’s mom works. By the old residence of a woman I knew who had to give it up because her cancer got too bad. I walked the streets of a town I had always known, to get in a car and drive to a city where I only knew my mom’s condo and a single barista at starbucks. I got in that car and I cried.
During that long car ride,I didn’t think about ex boyfriends or how I am plagued with PTSD. I didn’t think about how much I hated how my grandparents treated me, or that I hadn’t come out to my mom yet.
I thought about how I was leaving behind the only place I had ever lived or grown to love.
I was leaving behind my small town, one that I was so sure would be where I lived for years to come when I had been young. I imagined having a family and working there, I imagined where I would get married there, who I would invite..
But just like how I left Elderwood, and those people forgot me, I left Visalia. Pretty soon everyone I was close to, they will move on. We will remember things fondly, but they won’t be important anymore.
Now my friends are all hours away from me. Most of my family, too. I sleep on a sofa in a tiny condo and I sit alone and watch tv. I’m really lonely, I’m really frustrated, and I don’t feel loved like I had expected.
In a year and a half I’ll be an adult. In two years I’ll be off to college. In six to eight I’ll probably be graduating. From there, I’ll live my life. I’ll get a job, make friends, maybe even have a family. There will be holidays and deaths, births and marriages.. But I will never forget the day I left my childhood behind.
I’m angry. Very angry. Mostly at myself for allowing myself to put trust in someone.
It’s been a problem for me through my life, expecting people to be there at important life events. Like school presentations, recitals, HELL, MY GRADUATION. My theatre productions.
Hoping to see familiar faces in the audience, but as I got older, they started coming in smaller and smaller numbers until they just stopped altogether.
Like today, research presentation day. Everyone else had their parents there. All their mom’s and dad’s, siblings and grandparents even.
But not me, no one but my boyfriend is involved enough to even know the date of it, and he was the only one I decided to invite, that way I wouldn’t be disappointed when there weren’t any faces in the audience for me, because there would just be him. The only one I needed there.
But no. Of course not. Of course life had to screw me over and through another curve at me.
Of course, my boyfriend would not show up.
I remember thinking, as I was standing up and my name was being announced, “why did I let myself trust and set expectations?” I knew I shouldn’t have, people only ever disappoint.
And he didn’t show. So I did it alone, like I’ll probably do the rest of my life. It’s not that I enjoy being independent and doing things alone, because I love having people supporting me and getting roses after doing a piece at a piano recital. But after being let down time after time, I decided it wasn’t worth getting my hopes up because it hurt too much to see no one out there.
Isn’t it kind of funny? When I was 6 and only spent two hours a week practicing piano, and at the end of my recital after playing a dumb Little Mozart’s piece, I would get a dozen roses. But after I slaved hours away at a piano a day, and played seven page songs from memory, at those recitals, no one was even there.
And at the presentations I half-assed as a seventh grader, people supported, but today not a single face in the audience.
And last year at my shakespeare production, literally no one came to see my sister and I. I ran out into the audience after the production ended, expecting to see my aunts and uncles, even grandparents who promised to come, and found not a single soul there for me.
People don’t show up when you need them, and that is the most important lesson I’ve learned in years. Don’t rely on anyone, don’t expect anyone, don’t get your hopes up, because no matter what, they WILL let you down.
The school yard was quiet,
She and her book were the only two there.
Leaves fell silently as a gentle spring breeze blew them from their home.
She wasn’t really reading though,
It was her safeguard to make sure no one talked to her if they happened to walk by.
Sweet scenarios filled her mind,
Like the sappy love stories we are all too embarrassed to like.