More than I care to admit, I ask myself who I am. More than I care to admit, I wonder what happened to who I used to be. More than I care to admit, I just don’t have answers.
Before I get too involved, I’m not really sure how people viewed my younger self. I was funny, pretty carefree, athletic, attractive. Though I was in top-level classes throughout school, I’m not sure if other kids considered me smart. Smart ass, yes. I maintained good grades with minimal effort on my own part. I could also pick up any sport with ease, yet was not dedicated to one.
Life events changed me from being a leader throughout elementary school to being more of a follower later on. I just wanted to belong. I wanted to be liked and included.
My anxiety issues began to manifest themselves when I was in high school. I started to become fearful of certain outcomes. I was afraid to go on trips with friends. I thought something catastrophic would happen. In fact one college weekend trip I backed out of lost me two friends. I understood many years later they weren’t really friends. But, oh, how important they were to me then.
I attended many parties, having a great fondness for beer. At some of these parties I wandered off with a boy or two to make out. I always put the brakes on if things got too heavy and I managed to maintain my virtue. In my naïveté it may have earned me a reputation as a tease. In all honesty, I had no idea what I was doing. I just knew what wasn’t going to happen.
By senior year, I’d been dumped by the boy I thought was “the one.” Boy, was I a moron. With college looming I began to become more anxious. I was accepted to a few nice schools but was too afraid to leave home. This was a person I didn’t know. This unease was new to me and frightening. I’d already been through a lot by the time I was seventeen. My father was an alcoholic. Between the ages of 6-15, there’d been domestic violence at my house. From the ages of 10-15, I was the victim of physical and verbal abuse from my brother.
I’d been in a car accident in third grade and sustained a compound fracture of my leg. I was absent a fair amount from school. Years would pass before I would understand it was more emotional than physical. I began to eat as a comfort but because I was active I kept the weight off.
College was the tipping point. I liked the academic part of college. Learning was fun. I hated being a commuter student but I was paying my own way, was too scared to leave home, and had to work when I wasn’t in class. Hanging around with some folks who weren’t right for me, it allowed me to continue to indulge my fondness for beer and to eat in an unhealthy manner. The weight started to add up. I’d given up trying to be athletic except for teaching tennis during the summers, something I really enjoyed.
I’ve made lots of mistakes but I think most of us have. I was too tied to a lifestyle where I acted the way I thought I was supposed to instead of being myself. And now, being myself has become lost to me. The closest I come is writing in this blog but, even then, I’m careful about my words.
Part of my role in life is being a survivor. I don’t seem like I’ve had many cares in the world, but I’ve been through some difficult and dark times. I’m not looking for a prize. I’m looking for me. The one who was quick to grin and laugh. Not the one with the jaded and sarcastic quips. The one who was brave and was the leader. Not the pathetic sheep.
Don’t ask me to fight for your causes. I’ve been left hanging out to dry a few too many times. And if you’re going to be my friend, be my friend. Don’t be my friend as it suits you. I’m done with fair weather friends or people who are my friend until I disagree with them about something. I know I’m not easy. I can be moody. I can be too honest. But if you look past that, I can be so much more.
So, who am I? Not sure yet. I do know I will continue to pursue my dream of being a mystery writer. I’m happy when I’m writing and feel close to my original self.
“Oh, mirror in the sky/What is love?/Can the child in my heart rise above?/Can I sail through the changin’ ocean tides?/Can I handle the seasons of my life?” Landslide- Fleetwood Mac
I’m still sailing, navigating the shoals of grief for the loss of a very important person in my life. And for that “one” high school boy, go suck an egg.
Stories Are For Eternity 