Sunday, October 29, 2017

Always Different

How much am I like everyone else?

I've been asking that questions since I was little. All I wanted to be for so many years was like everyone else because when you're like everyone else it's the only time you're accepted. I would have given away everything. Given up anything. But I was never enough like everyone else. Never could be. Never would be.

I've said it elsewhere in this blog, but I've always been fat. That right there separates me from the majority.

Can't be like everyone else if you're not like everyone else, no matter how you wish or try.

My mother once got angry at me for repeating that I've always been fat. She insisted that I wasn't. That I'm not remembering correctly. But I remember...

...shopping in the "husky" section for pants. I learned to hate the word "husky." A special word separates like numbers and adjectives never can because numbers and adjectives never have their own section. At the worst they have their own hanger.

...having my blood drawn when I was seven to check my thyroid. I wasn't sick. Not even the flu. But there I was, sitting in a hospital hallway, my little hand in my Dad's, waiting to have a needle suck some blood from me. When the results came back, nothing was wrong with me, according to the tests, but not according to my parents' faces.

...the nurse at my doctor's office taking me aside and reassuring me with a chart, that although I was, she paused before saying, heavier than others my age, it was following my growth chart perfect. I was consistently fat. I think I was eight and my tonsils came out a few months later.

...sitting in a nutritionists office hours away from home. The whole family had to come on this stupid trip on a Saturday so that the nutritionist could give me lists of food that it was okay for me to eat. I was handed lots of piece of paper filled with never and sometimes and anytime food. Pickles and unflavored rice cakes were anytime foods. I'm glad I liked pickles, even though I didn't like them THAT much. I don't remember this list being shown to my brothers. I don't remember the basic meals we ate as a family changing. I guess it was supposed to be up to me to follow the new rules on my own. I had just turned nine a couple weeks earlier.

...filling out a chart in a book listing the calories of all the food I'd eaten and the calories I'd burned and my weight each morning. I was ten and it was summer. In the back of the book my mom had stapled some graph paper so that I could graph the ups and downs and the sames of my weight. So I could SEE the change. My mother had a book and so did my grandmother. My brothers and father did not.

(The numbers set off other problems I have that I hid. Numbers and tracking and more tracking and numbers and running numbers to see how they could be combine. These are notes and such that I hid from my family, that I'd stuff under my bed, that I'd burn in the fireplace if I woke up early enough to make sure no one would find them.)

The weight thing was always there even after that, but I don't remember any really direct efforts from anyone to change it because NOTHING changes. I went through a growth spurt, but I stayed fat. Friends and enemies in school hit their growth spurts and they had at least a year or two before they got fat again. I just never wasn't fat.

Which is why I knew I would never be normal. No matter what, I would always be different. Always be noticed for being different. Unable to blend, properly, into a crowd. Maybe not standing out, but never being like the crowd enough to just be part of the crowd.

Saturday, October 28, 2017

Stronger Than You?

So, I'm sitting here listening to Steven Universe songs because, for a while now, they're the only things that really make me feel. And I mean FEEL... something... anything. Mostly lost because it's so hard to feel. I don't know how much of it is the depression or the medication or what we're taught to just be from a young age. So I sit and I listen and I start to feel a lump in my throat and then my eyes swell up with water. And I wait. I wait for the water to leak. For that physical expression of feeling. It doesn't come. It never comes. It just sits there until the tears dry in my eye and there's only something little to wipe out of the corners.

Sunday, October 15, 2017

On How to Help?

Dear S--,

I've been trying to write this for about a month, now.

I ran into your Grandpa at the grocery store and although it had been five months since you killed yourself, he looked shaken up. I suppose that the nice thing to do would have been to offer him some sort comfort? I should have acknowledged what happened and then told him how sorry I was about it, I suppose.

I couldn't though. Don't think I ever can.

So I asked him how his foundation work is going and we chatted a bit about my shitty job. I mentioned that I had recently visited family up your way and he said he was heading up in a week or so to see your family and your Aunt's family. His family. I still didn't have anything to say to him. And we left it at that.

It's not like I had nothing to say, but what I had to say wouldn't have been a comfort to him because knowing what you did... I can't say that you were wrong.

The last time I saw you was almost exactly four years ago. I was at your Aunt's house visiting briefly before I headed down to my family. It was your cousin's birthday party. You were the oldest one there, by several years, which isn't easy, but you were trying. Trying to be included. Trying to one of them. Trying to keep it up.

I've known you for a long time. Not quite since the day you were born, but pretty close. I remember meeting your father, back when your mother and him were lying to themselves about themselves. They were idiots. Then he was gone and you were with your mom and the stream of guys she kept promising you she'd marry until she didn't. How many time was it? Five? Six? Seven? No matter the exact number, it was too many.

And so I watched you. I wasn't really friends with your mom, but with your aunt and her husband. They were my friends. But your aunt was very careful to be around you as much as possible. I don't think she trusted your mom. So, when I visited we ended up at a lot of places your mom wanted to be with her friends to keep an eye on you, I think.

I think that because I can remember several occasions when I was the one watching you. You would walk off looking for rocks, you really loved rocks for a while there, and I'd see you go and your aunt would see you go (and your uncle may have seen you go, but before he had kids, I don't think he had ever thought about how easy it is to lose a kid). I'd look at your aunt and jerk my head in your direction. She'd give a weak smile or a stony look and nod. I'd get up and follow you. I'm sure she would have if I hadn't been there, but I was and since I wasn't really wanted anyway I wouldn't be noticed.

Mostly, I just followed you. You'd pick up rocks, look at them, compare them to each other, and put them in your pocket. When you found an acorn, you threw it as hard as you could and then look for another rock. Occasionally, you'd call me over and talk about your rocks. You'd talk like you were a scientist, even though you didn't have a clue what you were talking about. You sounded authoritative, though. I didn't say much. I just listened. I knew that you weren't listened too very much. Most of the time you were just talked at and told what to do. You needed to do some talking.

In time, your mom moved, with you, and I saw you less because, again, I wasn't really friends with her. I'd ask your aunt about you, though because I could see, even when you were little, that something was hurt and hurting. Something that wouldn't be easy to shake and I wanted you to be well.

I did see you on occasion, though. I'd visit your aunt on holidays and you'd be around, so I saw you get bigger. I saw that you always wore your hair long. Was that your idea? I think it was. The main reason I think so is because you always kept hair in front of your face. Trying to hide. Even when you laughed, it was from behind a curtain of hair.

At your cousin's birthday four years ago, your hair was the longest I'd ever seen it and it was always blocking your face. All day long. All day long.

I mentioned to your aunt that I though something was wrong. That you weren't happy. That it might have been deeper. She said she'd mention it to your mom. Your aunt was going through her own shit at that time as well as trying to raise her kids. I'm sure she mentioned it to your mother and was blown off.

Your mother always seemed to attribute your actions and attitude to something you were eating. The nitrates or nitrites or whatever else the liberal mommy blogs were saying at the time. Plus you probably weren't acting much different from usual. Was she dating at the time? I can't remember. It was only a year or so ago that she finally got married to one of the guys that she'd always say she married. Did you do things to try to drive these guys away, or did you want a dad?

Anyway, after you killed yourself, I didn't feel surprised. I felt more like it had been a long time coming. That's not fair and not nice, I know.

The problem is, though, that I've been near that point myself and ever since then I can't say the suicide is a bad decision. I can't. It doesn't feel like a bad decision in the moment, and it doesn't now, either. Even in these moments where I can hope for a future I can't say that suicide is not an option.

In the moments when I imagine talking to you before you kill yourself, I imagine telling you that it's an option. Not necessarily the best, but it's an option. I can't promise you that things would get better either. I could tell you that things change, though; that things would be different. I would tell you that people would miss you. Your aunt would. Your grandpa would... does.

Would any of that helped to stop you? I don't know. Would you have heard the honesty, though? I think so because at my lowest, even when I couldn't feel like anything but a burden on the world as a whole, I could recognize honesty.

Still thinking about this won't bring you back. It's unlikely that any of your family will know that I wrote this and I don't think it would bring them comfort. Probably just make them angry. And you'd still be gone.

Monday, September 11, 2017

Companionable Coworkers

I've spent way too much time in fast food places over the past week and I noticed something, something that I should have remembered.

Today, both of the places I went to were empty inside, except for me. Plenty of people in the drive-thru, though. And I could hear the teasing and mockery and genuine comradity (pardon the spelling). That sense of a team that functions well together and like working together.

I found myself missing that.

At my "grown-up" job, we may use teamwork, but we don't work as a team together. Everyone does their part and we hope all the parts fit together in the end.

Maybe that's why so many people there seem so desparet to connect to others.

Tuesday, September 05, 2017

DON'T READ THE COMMENTS

I was reading an article about asexuality and I broke the number one rule of the internet. I read the comments.

Homosexual men and women are supposed to be forward thinking and accepting of people who are different, right? They're supposed to want to encourage the growth of diversity of human sexuality, right?

Too many of them are just as awful as every other troll on the internets who refuses to believe or understand something that they simply don't feel or haven't experienced themselves.

Thank you, internet, for constantly lowering my expectations.

Sunday, August 13, 2017

The Exorcist

I just finished re-watching The Exorcist TV series.

The show is so very good. The way the tension builds from the first episode to the twist in the sixth to the power of the finale.

My favorite thing has to be that Angela's choice to fight back didn't come when Father Tomas embraces his destiny, but when she heard her family reciting the Lord's Prayer. It was her family, not a priest or God that gave her the will to fight and live again.

I've never been a person of Faith or religion, but I am a person of family. Family's worth fighting for.

Wednesday, August 09, 2017

Last One... For a While

1. Any scars? One on the top of my head from getting wacked by an oar.
2. Self harmed? Nothing serious.
3. Crush? Orange soda. A favorite of the Waponis
4. Kissed anyone? Not for a long time.
5. Coke or Pepsi? Don't care. Cola is cola.
6. Someone you hate? I try not to hate people.
7. Best Friends? I need friends, first.
8. Have you ever done alcohol or drugs? Nope.
9. What’s your dream job? Eccentric billionaire.
10. Ever been in love? I don't think so.
11. Last time you cried? Many, many, many years ago.
12. Favorite color? Blue.
13. Height? About 173 cm.
14. Birthday? Every year. But it's my day and I don't often share.
15. Eye color? Green, but with some variation.
16. Hair color? Brown, unless the sun is right, then auburnish.
17. What do you love? Dunno.
18. Obsession? Don't really obsess.
19. If you had one wish, what would it be? To know what to wish for.
20. Do you love someone? I think I love my family, but that's more something I do rather than feel.
21. Kiss or hug? Neither.
22. Nicknames people call you? Only one set of aunt/uncle call me a nickname and I do not care for it. I let them do it because. I will not tell the world the nickname, though.
23. Favorite song? These constantly rotate through my head daily: "These Apples," Barenaked Ladies; "Maybe I Will," Julia Nunes; "Narrow Your Eyes," They Might Be Giants; and "Overkill," Colin Hay.
24. Favorite band? I flop between They Might Be Giants and Barenaked Ladies
25. Worst thing that has ever happened to you? Dunno. When a bad thing happens, I can always imagine how it could be worse.
26. Best thing that has ever happened to you? When I was eight and Santa Claus knew my name and my brothers' names, that was pretty damned amazing.
27. Something you would change about yourself? Everything. Most minutes, I'd rather not be me.
28. Ever dated someone? Not on a regular basis.
29. Worst mistake? I can always imagine how it could have been worse.
30. Watch the movie or read the book? You're going watch the movie because it's easier, but try to read the book if you like the movie or the movie challenged you. Odds are there's something more in the book for you to find. Except for Forest Gump; do not read that book.
31. Ever had a heartbreak? I've had heartache, but not break.
32. Favorite show? Right now I really like The Good Place and The Excorcist. Both are so good.
33. Best day of your life? Still waiting for that.
34. Any talents? Not that I know of.
35. Do you wish you could ever start over? Only if I didn't have to be me again.
36. Any bad habits? My, yes.
37. Ever had a near death experience? Not that I can remember.
38. Someone I can tell anything to? I see a therapist, but I don't even tell everything.
39. Ever lost a loved one? Grandparents.
40. Do you believe in love? I do, but I don't think it's in the way most do or would understand.
41. Someone you hate/Dislike? I don't like my boss's boss. She's an erratic micromanager, so you never know what's going to set her off.
42. Are you okay? I tell people I am okay.