A million thoughts spin through my head like constellations, colliding, connecting, dissolving, and re-entering orbit. I could get an apartment in town for a couple of months... I know the restaurant is always looking for waitresses... Or, I could move to Y for those few months until school starts. I have enough cash to get me down there, and my grandparents would surely have room for me. Shoot, they’d even feed me, more or less. And I’m sure I could find odd jobs-- seasonal work. It’s that time of year. I bet E would be thrilled to have me there. I could help with the support groups, or at least attend. I need something like that right now. Hmm... I could even go down to where the school is, get a job, and get a place.
The main focus of all the thoughts refracting through the prism of my preoccupation is GET OUT!
I’m partially accepting this graciously, as a chance to grow and learn. I’m partially being transported back to my childhood, to another “talk”, with much the similar theme.
6th grade, and I’m one of the “big kids”, though I don’t feel like it. Maybe because I skipped a grade, and I’m too young, really, or maybe because of my chronic insecurity? Either way, the 7th and 8th graders are cool, and I’m not, but I desperately want to be liked and accepted- by them, by the adults, by anyone. Unfortunately, the very things I thought were assets, bonuses, tools at my disposal, are the things that annoy them so intensely.
My favorite teacher ever, Mrs. C, calls me back in to the classroom after class is out. My peers are gathered there, and they proceed to have an “intervention” of sorts. In retrospect, I admire Mrs. C deeply for the way she handled what must have been a tricky situation. That confrontation was a very open, healthy way of dealing with the issues that had probably been bubbling under the surface for some time.
I, however, didn’t see it at the time. All I saw was pain and rejection, blinding me as they listed off my trespasses. (So, logically, if I stop doing the things they don’t like then... I’ll be accepted?!) I had early on realized that I got approval and acceptance from the adults by being smart, so I milked it. I got straight A’s. I did my homework. I love to read, naturally, and I cultivated that trait. I read the dictionary sometimes, just to learn new words. And, in school, I corrected people who mispronounced words while they read out loud. (I just wanted to help! If I was mispronouncing a word, of course I would want to know, so why shouldn’t they? Logical, right? lol) I was too smart, too loud, too know-it-all for the other kids to handle. My gift had become my curse, because I didn’t know how to handle it.
One specific phrase I remember clearly. “We know that things aren’t good at home, and you’re having a hard time with your dad...”
That’s when I started fighting back tears. I didn’t cry in front of them (Victory!), but I did start sobbing into Mrs. C’s embrace once they left. This was the point in my life when things were about at their worst. My “dad” was actively molesting me, psychologically and physically abusing my sister and I, and totally ignoring us otherwise. Mom was working, trying to support 4 kids and one adult child, and soon she would kick my “dad” out. At that point, I would pretty much take over care of my siblings, because he wasn’t doing what he agreed to, and my mom was working nights as well as trying to overcome mono. Life sucked, and that casual phrase struck deep. How could they even know the depths of my agony, my intense craving for love and acceptance? They couldn’t.
Flash forward six or seven years. I’m with C now, and we live together, engaged to be married. Finally, I’ve found the one who loves me no matter what, through thick and thin, despite my issues and background and family and everything... In fact, he even likes the very things about me that I dislike! He likes everything about me! Wow, this is great!
(Except... my belief in God. That’s a point of contention between us. But, hey, that’s what happens when you date an agnostic, right? No problems there, I can live with this...)
One of my strengths is networking. I make friends fast, and pretty well, and I’m a generally likable person. So I have a large network of friends, especially in the church that I grew up in. C, however, sees this as a weakness. I need to learn to be self-sufficient, to not depend on anyone. Relationships are weakness. Once again, my gift becomes my curse, and I am not good for having it. (He never did catch the dichotomy between being dependent on him, which was okay, and being dependent on others, which was not good. Interesting...)
Bible college. A leadership school. Being strong and take-charge is encouraged, cultivated, praised. I’m not super good at it, but I learn to hide my fear and insecurity and to be a leader. After all, I’ve been told that I’m a natural leader, so why not? So, yes, I become a decent leader, and I am accepted for it, even praised. There are other things, though, that prevent me from totally fitting in... like the fact that I don’t like doing literature evangelism. Oh, yes, and my frequent bouts of intense depression.
Now, I find that those traits-- my gifts-- have become my curse. I don’t know how to use them, apparently. My gift for relationship threatens others (one person specifically). It seems to me, though, that if a person is feeling threatened by the fact that someone else is in relationship with the people they’re in relationship with, the burden for change is on their end. I’m not going to cease my relationships because you feel threatened. That’s foolish and unhealthy.
D, I can understand. There’s already tension with the fact that the cancer might take him away, and she’s not getting to spend as much time with him as before. (That’s what happens when you move away.) And, yes, I suppose that, in my search for a father figure, it was easy for me to take over what you left behind in some regards, such as helping in the garden.
But don’t you get that I don’t want to be J? I don’t want to be K, either. I don’t want to be you, or take your place. I want to be there alongside you. Maybe that’s why this is more difficult than I anticipated... being misunderstood hurts, especially when your actions are interpreted in a negative light.
My hard-won leadership skills are no longer an asset, they are a detriment. I am controlling, too forward, overstepping my bounds. I am taking over. What the hell? Why is something good and desirable in one setting, yet a source of conflict in another?
I’ll just go live my own egocentric, drama queen life somewhere else.
I guess it’s just hard for me to accept that there can be love amidst this. Black/white, either/or, love/hate. If you love me, we won’t have problems, right? Or if we do have problems, they won’t be with who I fundamentally am as a person... because how can you love someone if you don’t like who they are?
What I don’t understand is that I hear that I’m such a likable person. “Nobody could hate you,” they say. “She’s everyone’s favorite.” Not a big head, just repeating what I’ve heard. But now I hear that I am... a source of contention. How does that jive?!
And how much do you want to bet that as soon as I leave this environment, the very things that are seen as weaknesses here will be my strengths in the new place?
Yeah, ‘cause it keeps on changing. Make up your frickin minds.
Better yet, leave me the hell alone and let me be who I am, aight?
Mm-hmm. I’m ghetto. I’m loud. I’m tactless, bold, the center of attention, and independent. I’m lonely, but I also have a billion friends. I’m restless and fickle, changing often. I’m the finder of the perfect gift, a writer of letters, and a secret lover of rock music. (But only when I’m depressed or restless.) I’m insecure constantly, mostly fearful with a facade of confidence, and easily confused. I’m also funny, smart, and attractive. I attach quickly and intensely, and I enjoy flowers and long walks on the beach. (Okay, okay, that last part was just for levity’s sake. I’m beginning to sound like a personals ad!)
That is all who I am, and I’m not interested in changing it at this point. Take me or leave me, and if you don’t want me, I’ll find someone who will.
(I’ve realized that to love is to expose oneself to certain pain. Yeah... I’m kind of over that. I’m getting really, really tired of being hurt. I think it’s time I put my foot down. Is it possible to love without being vulnerable? I’m sure going to try...)
I remember when I was first at Bible college. I had just broken up with C, whom I’d been with for years, the “love of my life”. I’m in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by unfamiliar people, doing something that I really, really don’t like... but I had to be strong. I had nowhere else to go. So I cried in the shower, where no one could hear me. No one sees tears when they’re mixed with water. I cried for weeks straight.
Now, here I am, in a place that has become so familiar to me, surrounded by people that love me, and yet... I find myself crying in the shower. Again.
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