I got a lot of graded work back in my reading class earlier. For assignments like short essays or long answer questions, my teacher writes comments instead of putting in a number grade and that is fine. I got positive comments on those assignments. My other stuff wasn't so good, like with a 19 out of 25 and stuff... though, instead of beating myself up over it I thought "Huh, well I'll try harder next time."
I actually felt optimistic and determined to do better instead of instantly giving up. That was too much of a bad habit in the past and terrible mindset but things are starting to slowly turn around. I still have more to do to change my attitude, but (at least) with this teacher I am not as scared.
Right now I have a general feeling of ickinesss all up in my head and stomach though, but not from stress or worry. I hope to feel better in the morning.
As for other things, it's been really fucking rainy and windy here today and right now. It sounds pretty spooky. Though, when I was on campus for my morning class, the sound of the rain alone made me feel stupidly happy. It sounded refreshing (until mom was driving me home and cut her speed down by 15 mph because it was also dangerous).
Mom doesn't know that I've read an old journal of hers that she hasn't written in for years. At the beginning, she mentioned my older sister and I, and I guess my other two siblings whom I have not met because they were never born. I've been aware of these two siblings for most of my life but their absence hasn't effected my life as much as Nicole's absence has.
I haven't even talked about my other two siblings with my closest friends, which now I'm beginning to realize is a little odd.
The order of things is as follows: Nicole was born first, then mom and dad had separated for a little while. In that time, mom had a boyfriend and was still doing drugs. They concieved a kid but broke up and mom had an abortion. The amount of drugs that she was doing at the time would have meant an unhealthy child and she (Mom sensed it was a girl) was also from this other relationship sooo... yeah. Her and dad got back together and went to rehab.
The third child, a boy, was lost in a miscarriage.
I came seven years after Nicole was born, and that was the last of the kids in the family.
Now I really am the remaining one since Nicole passed away in 2001 and hm...
I can't really imagine having a life where there would be two more older siblings around. By this time they would probably be living on their own, but the time after Nicole died would have probably felt a little less lonely. There would be a collective sibling grief going on.
They could be a part of my identity, but I see my lost brother and sister as part of the identity of my family as a whole. They are definitely part of my mom and dad's identities and they're a part of the past of my life before it was mine. Without having known them, how do I go about talking about them?
This also brings in a question I wonder about a lot: what do I say when people ask me if I have siblings? In the physical sense, I don't anymore. Saying that I don't have any doesn't feel truthful though.
Lastly, if I say "yes, one deceased" that addresses Nicole but not the other two. Also bringing up such a serious topic when meeting someone for the first time makes the conversation really awkward. It doesn't hurt to talk about Nicole's cancer or death, but it is just awkward. What was once a pleasant conversation suddenly turned serious and wide eyes are on me. Aries are supposed to love attention but that just doesn't sit well with me. Plus, after I am done talking it tends to be silent for a long moment before I bring up a different topic to try to get the conversation feeling light hearted again.
Wow, I just realized this whole thing is a tangent. I was talking about the rain and my mom's journal and what I meant to continue with is that mom wrote in quotes (as in a nickname) next to my name "Rain Child". This has been a silent mystery to me for a few years now. I was born on a sunny and mild saturday and it was always Nicole that talked about how she loved the rain and all, so how did I come about to be known as Rain Child to my mom? On top of that, she's never called me that before so the meaning of that to her makes me insanely curious, but asking about it means revealing I also looked at that journal.
There wasn't much else written in there besides the names though.
Merr. Nonetheless, the sound of the rain brought the name Rain Child back to me again and that isn't entirely innacurrate. I love the climate of Washington rather than southern California and the stupid happiness from just walking to get to the car could me my *own* meaning for this mysterious nickname.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Oh.
Someone on a forum that I browse posted something in regards to not remembered/partially remembered traumatic events. "I have gaps, the first gap is like 4 days long. I can remember the tiniest snippets in those 4 days, and I mean tiny - they must have been seconds long, the shortest impressions of things, feelings."
I want to thank them for typing pretty much how I feel about my memories... a lot of them, even the non-traumatic ones. Saying "I have a bad memory" doesn't really describe it, but that quote does
A good example of this is a conversation I had with one of my friends back in 08. He was staying the night and we were up until sometime past 4 AM just talking. The most I can remember is eating sandwiches and some of the convo of when I told him a secret. That's it. The whole thing was HOURS long and evolved but that is all I can really remember.
I don't even want to go into the bad years of my life because it's the same thing there. I just recall snippets and impressions, but not whole pieces. I call them "two second memories".
I want to thank them for typing pretty much how I feel about my memories... a lot of them, even the non-traumatic ones. Saying "I have a bad memory" doesn't really describe it, but that quote does
A good example of this is a conversation I had with one of my friends back in 08. He was staying the night and we were up until sometime past 4 AM just talking. The most I can remember is eating sandwiches and some of the convo of when I told him a secret. That's it. The whole thing was HOURS long and evolved but that is all I can really remember.
I don't even want to go into the bad years of my life because it's the same thing there. I just recall snippets and impressions, but not whole pieces. I call them "two second memories".
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Doodeedoo
I had an intense nightmare last night. First: when I have dreams, they tend to be vivid enough to affect me long after I've woken up, and nightmares are no exception.
Anywho, this one started off at my middle school campus and down near the entrance to a parking lot was a body and two police officers. I was standing about 20 feet away but I was still able to recognize that the body was that of one of my friends and I freaked out. I started walking towards the scene and an officer stopped me before I got too close and told me what happened. My friend had been hit by a man in a maroon colored car and the officer continued on saying "She put up a good fight and beat him half to death with her books." which suggests that the murderer got out of the car at some point while she was still alive. My mind was reeling. I imagined the whole scene and fled.
The next part was a mixture of me slowly telling people, including an online friend (Who would be completely devastated if she died IRL) and he had uploaded these pictures he made as a result of his grief onto my friend's blog, and at first my heart jumped because I thought she was still alive and was posting, but it was him. Througout the dream, I was the one telling people that she was dead and I had to watch their reactions.
Other parts of the dream include finding out the murderer has been killing people for 100 years (oh man, I've been watching too much Buffy) and me being afraid to leave the house at one point because I was afraid he'd come and kill me.
At one point, I was at her house and I found her laptop and her dad was going to erase everything on it. I was argueing with him saying that everything about his dead daughter was on there and he'd be willing to delete it all? Truthfully, I wanted to take the laptop home with me but I was too sheepish to ask such a thing.
I woke up actually feeling relieved that it was just a dream, but I still have a knot of worry about her stuck in my chest. I'm tempted to message her and tell her to stay safe when walking alone.
Ick. -shudder-
Anyway, so that was the dream. In other things, before I fell asleep this morning I was considering where the line is on placing blame and taking responsibility. Oftentimes on TV shows and stuff you hear a character say that they aren't going to blame sonso for their problems anymore and all that. Quite noble.
However, when said character had been quite affected by the actions of the person (say, their parents were abusive), then does that mean they instead place the blame on themselves? Does this contribute to victim blaming in society? Victims of abuse experience a multitude of aftereffects and reactions in the aftermath, but where is the line in placing the blame on their abusers and taking responsibility for their actions? For someone like a child molestor, they should take responsibility for their actions and get punished even if they were also molested as children. I feel sorry for their child self, but never for the adult that turned their pain against others. Perhaps that is where the line is--once you start hurting someone, you are responsible for those actions.
In my case, I was trying to figure out how responsible I was for the failures in my education. Part of the abuse from my teachers was one teacher telling me that I can't blame my sister's death on my bad grades for forever, and in a sense she is right. I blame my bad grades on the school's lack of sensitivity to my mental health and failure to teach their educators some compassion and how to interact with students who have needs. I blame them for completely disregarding the death in my family and instead focusing on my bad grades, which was merely a symtpom of my grief and later my fear of teachers. Part of the aftereffects of classroom emotional abuse is academic failure and it increases the risk of dropping out in later years. By the way, I got that information from a literary article; I did not make it up myself.
So enters the question I was considering. For years I did poorly in school but I was also dealing with all the complicated feelings from being abused in middle school. I didn't even know that I was abused to begin with until around 2007, and I was really starting to pick myself up academically (but with lots of snags here and there.) If I had done poorly in high school with no background of abuse, I would be taking full responsibility for my failures but, as someone having been vicimized in that way, how much blame do I put on my academic failures as a victim of emotional abuse in school and is that a responsible thing to do?
The better question is, does that question even matter anymore with what I am currently planning?
In the book "Trauma and Recovery", I think the first step in healing is establishing a sense of safety, and for a while I was unsure of how to go about doing this. Thankfully my grandparents have helped me determine how I can feel safe and, even better, feeling a sense of control over what is happening now that I am an adult. (This fact answers the first question as "I blame the abuse because I was a child/minor and I had no power over what was happening or that what I was experiencing was traumatic stress from those three years.")
My grandparents are pushing me to get stuff done, which is putting pressure on my head. I have no room to work at my own pace and it immediately puts me in a bad place. It is a trigger. Finally, early this morning I came up with the idea that I'd write up a portion of the story and talk about the aftereffects, then lay down the line of my boundaries: I will not talk about my education with anyone unless I bring it up first. If anyone else does, it comes off as an "ambush" (even if their intentions are good) and I shut down. I need the room to learn how to ask for help and to fix my own mistakes, and if they're constantly reminding me of what needs to be done, it ends up being a reminder to me of what I havent' done and it feels like what has been done first is discredited and I cannot proceed with everything else. In the past, this felt like reminders of shit that I felt I could not do at all, and thus I felt like a failure. I felt so ashamed of myself, so even friendly things like "Pay attention to your GPA" slices me and I want to drop off the face of the earth.
I figured out why those kinds of statements hurt me so much. I heard them SO OFTEN in middle school as if constantly reminding me that I am failing was a motivational factor. Strangely, it did the opposite. I felt like shit for failing but no one was encouraging. Even a simple "You can do it!" might have done a lot more difference, but instead at the ages of 11-14, I was treated like an adult in a time when I really needed to be treated like a kid. I was expected to explain myself and was left behind. Any attempts to help me catch up were things like "Find a tutor", but I was smart enough to learn the material (except in the case of math). I didn't need a tutor--I needed someone to believe in me. That someone finally came around in high school but I didn't realize it until after I found out I had to repeat 12th grade, but instead of shaming me for being a super senior he took my hand and said "You will graduate. I know you can do it.".
Instead, through middle school all I heard was "You will be held back in 8th grade if you continue failing" with an add on of "I am one of the teachers that decides if a student gets held back or not." (which came off as like a threat).
Thus, I am taking responsibility for my college education by taking control. I am an adult and I NEED this to happen if I will do a good job in college. Convincing my grandpa of this is probably going to be hard but if he doesn't like it, he can go fly a kite.
On a last note, the thought of going to college without my sister had scared me in the past. She told me about middle and high school, but she died before even graduating and so I'm doing this without her guidance. At first, I hated it and hated having survived past her death, but last night I imagined looking down at my inner 11 year old self and saying with a sense of confidence: "Watch this."
In that moment, I became the big sister for my inner child, which is a big factor in healing from this abuse. I have to learn how to guide myself so at night I can connect with my little one and tell them what to expect in later years.
Anywho, this one started off at my middle school campus and down near the entrance to a parking lot was a body and two police officers. I was standing about 20 feet away but I was still able to recognize that the body was that of one of my friends and I freaked out. I started walking towards the scene and an officer stopped me before I got too close and told me what happened. My friend had been hit by a man in a maroon colored car and the officer continued on saying "She put up a good fight and beat him half to death with her books." which suggests that the murderer got out of the car at some point while she was still alive. My mind was reeling. I imagined the whole scene and fled.
The next part was a mixture of me slowly telling people, including an online friend (Who would be completely devastated if she died IRL) and he had uploaded these pictures he made as a result of his grief onto my friend's blog, and at first my heart jumped because I thought she was still alive and was posting, but it was him. Througout the dream, I was the one telling people that she was dead and I had to watch their reactions.
Other parts of the dream include finding out the murderer has been killing people for 100 years (oh man, I've been watching too much Buffy) and me being afraid to leave the house at one point because I was afraid he'd come and kill me.
At one point, I was at her house and I found her laptop and her dad was going to erase everything on it. I was argueing with him saying that everything about his dead daughter was on there and he'd be willing to delete it all? Truthfully, I wanted to take the laptop home with me but I was too sheepish to ask such a thing.
I woke up actually feeling relieved that it was just a dream, but I still have a knot of worry about her stuck in my chest. I'm tempted to message her and tell her to stay safe when walking alone.
Ick. -shudder-
Anyway, so that was the dream. In other things, before I fell asleep this morning I was considering where the line is on placing blame and taking responsibility. Oftentimes on TV shows and stuff you hear a character say that they aren't going to blame sonso for their problems anymore and all that. Quite noble.
However, when said character had been quite affected by the actions of the person (say, their parents were abusive), then does that mean they instead place the blame on themselves? Does this contribute to victim blaming in society? Victims of abuse experience a multitude of aftereffects and reactions in the aftermath, but where is the line in placing the blame on their abusers and taking responsibility for their actions? For someone like a child molestor, they should take responsibility for their actions and get punished even if they were also molested as children. I feel sorry for their child self, but never for the adult that turned their pain against others. Perhaps that is where the line is--once you start hurting someone, you are responsible for those actions.
In my case, I was trying to figure out how responsible I was for the failures in my education. Part of the abuse from my teachers was one teacher telling me that I can't blame my sister's death on my bad grades for forever, and in a sense she is right. I blame my bad grades on the school's lack of sensitivity to my mental health and failure to teach their educators some compassion and how to interact with students who have needs. I blame them for completely disregarding the death in my family and instead focusing on my bad grades, which was merely a symtpom of my grief and later my fear of teachers. Part of the aftereffects of classroom emotional abuse is academic failure and it increases the risk of dropping out in later years. By the way, I got that information from a literary article; I did not make it up myself.
So enters the question I was considering. For years I did poorly in school but I was also dealing with all the complicated feelings from being abused in middle school. I didn't even know that I was abused to begin with until around 2007, and I was really starting to pick myself up academically (but with lots of snags here and there.) If I had done poorly in high school with no background of abuse, I would be taking full responsibility for my failures but, as someone having been vicimized in that way, how much blame do I put on my academic failures as a victim of emotional abuse in school and is that a responsible thing to do?
The better question is, does that question even matter anymore with what I am currently planning?
In the book "Trauma and Recovery", I think the first step in healing is establishing a sense of safety, and for a while I was unsure of how to go about doing this. Thankfully my grandparents have helped me determine how I can feel safe and, even better, feeling a sense of control over what is happening now that I am an adult. (This fact answers the first question as "I blame the abuse because I was a child/minor and I had no power over what was happening or that what I was experiencing was traumatic stress from those three years.")
My grandparents are pushing me to get stuff done, which is putting pressure on my head. I have no room to work at my own pace and it immediately puts me in a bad place. It is a trigger. Finally, early this morning I came up with the idea that I'd write up a portion of the story and talk about the aftereffects, then lay down the line of my boundaries: I will not talk about my education with anyone unless I bring it up first. If anyone else does, it comes off as an "ambush" (even if their intentions are good) and I shut down. I need the room to learn how to ask for help and to fix my own mistakes, and if they're constantly reminding me of what needs to be done, it ends up being a reminder to me of what I havent' done and it feels like what has been done first is discredited and I cannot proceed with everything else. In the past, this felt like reminders of shit that I felt I could not do at all, and thus I felt like a failure. I felt so ashamed of myself, so even friendly things like "Pay attention to your GPA" slices me and I want to drop off the face of the earth.
I figured out why those kinds of statements hurt me so much. I heard them SO OFTEN in middle school as if constantly reminding me that I am failing was a motivational factor. Strangely, it did the opposite. I felt like shit for failing but no one was encouraging. Even a simple "You can do it!" might have done a lot more difference, but instead at the ages of 11-14, I was treated like an adult in a time when I really needed to be treated like a kid. I was expected to explain myself and was left behind. Any attempts to help me catch up were things like "Find a tutor", but I was smart enough to learn the material (except in the case of math). I didn't need a tutor--I needed someone to believe in me. That someone finally came around in high school but I didn't realize it until after I found out I had to repeat 12th grade, but instead of shaming me for being a super senior he took my hand and said "You will graduate. I know you can do it.".
Instead, through middle school all I heard was "You will be held back in 8th grade if you continue failing" with an add on of "I am one of the teachers that decides if a student gets held back or not." (which came off as like a threat).
Thus, I am taking responsibility for my college education by taking control. I am an adult and I NEED this to happen if I will do a good job in college. Convincing my grandpa of this is probably going to be hard but if he doesn't like it, he can go fly a kite.
On a last note, the thought of going to college without my sister had scared me in the past. She told me about middle and high school, but she died before even graduating and so I'm doing this without her guidance. At first, I hated it and hated having survived past her death, but last night I imagined looking down at my inner 11 year old self and saying with a sense of confidence: "Watch this."
In that moment, I became the big sister for my inner child, which is a big factor in healing from this abuse. I have to learn how to guide myself so at night I can connect with my little one and tell them what to expect in later years.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
A Nest of Rebel Pirates
I got a quick interest in pirates when I was thinking of a new picture of my OC Mel and my friend's OC Nyomi. We've drawn the two together now and then and it's been a while since we did a fresh picture, so I figured "Okay, this time we'll put them in pirate costumes!". I pulled our copy of "A Nest of Rebel Pirates" off of the shelf for inspiration and opened it...
on the inside front page, there is a sharpie comment written:
"Septembre 11, 1995
Kindest regards to the Davis Family, descendants of Chestnut Neck.
Franklin N. Kemp"
HOLY SHIT!
Mom once mentioned that this book is about our ancestors, but I had never opened it until today and then I saw this autograph directly from the author.
I asked mom "How are we related to the Davis family?" We've gone to the reunions for many years but I never asked this before. She said "My mom's mom was Henrietta Davis". Well, that was a simple answer and it satisfied me for now. I'll have to call Grandma up and talk about it since I want to know a little more about this massacre. She might not know a whole lot because both of her parents drowned in Big Bear Lake when she was 12, although grandpa has been putting together our family tree for a long time now.
Either way, I want to dive into this book. Chestnut Neck was described to be a place of American Privateers, but these privateers attacked other ships and stole their shit. I have pirates in my family.
My understanding of these events is that the British burned Chestnut Neck to the ground, and it never rose up as a trading port again. This event isn't really talked about in the textbooks I read in high school, and it's only part of a small bit of the American Revolution.
I was also pleased to see that the book stated the first white settler to the Little Egg Harbor area was a man named Erkka Mullikka (or Eric Mullica for the American version of his name), a Finn. Of course, that is just the Nightwish fangirl in me suprised to see that my family has the vaguest of connections to Finland, but I will also admit this has raised my interest in genuinely wanting to study Finland and it's culture more outside of a band that I like. I'll start with Erkka Mullikka.
This whole massacre business though is kinda sad. We seem to have a lot of that in my family. On my dad's side, we have the Cheerokee tribe and the Trail of Tears, though I'm not quite touching that just yet. I've accepted that the fullest possible understanding that I can get for all these events doesn't compare to actually being immersed in the tribe, and this acceptance actually comes from the novel Pigs in Heaven, which is a sequel to The Bean Trees. In PiH, Annawake Fourkiller insists that Turtle must be with her tribe because the Cheerokee nation had already lost so many of it's children, and the culture must remain as intact as possible after being fractured so many times. I grew up in a nuclear family so their concept of what is family and the closeness of the tribe is so foreign to me, yet this is also a thread in my family's cloth. It makes me a little sad that I can't fully understand.
on the inside front page, there is a sharpie comment written:
"Septembre 11, 1995
Kindest regards to the Davis Family, descendants of Chestnut Neck.
Franklin N. Kemp"
HOLY SHIT!
Mom once mentioned that this book is about our ancestors, but I had never opened it until today and then I saw this autograph directly from the author.
I asked mom "How are we related to the Davis family?" We've gone to the reunions for many years but I never asked this before. She said "My mom's mom was Henrietta Davis". Well, that was a simple answer and it satisfied me for now. I'll have to call Grandma up and talk about it since I want to know a little more about this massacre. She might not know a whole lot because both of her parents drowned in Big Bear Lake when she was 12, although grandpa has been putting together our family tree for a long time now.
Either way, I want to dive into this book. Chestnut Neck was described to be a place of American Privateers, but these privateers attacked other ships and stole their shit. I have pirates in my family.
My understanding of these events is that the British burned Chestnut Neck to the ground, and it never rose up as a trading port again. This event isn't really talked about in the textbooks I read in high school, and it's only part of a small bit of the American Revolution.
I was also pleased to see that the book stated the first white settler to the Little Egg Harbor area was a man named Erkka Mullikka (or Eric Mullica for the American version of his name), a Finn. Of course, that is just the Nightwish fangirl in me suprised to see that my family has the vaguest of connections to Finland, but I will also admit this has raised my interest in genuinely wanting to study Finland and it's culture more outside of a band that I like. I'll start with Erkka Mullikka.
This whole massacre business though is kinda sad. We seem to have a lot of that in my family. On my dad's side, we have the Cheerokee tribe and the Trail of Tears, though I'm not quite touching that just yet. I've accepted that the fullest possible understanding that I can get for all these events doesn't compare to actually being immersed in the tribe, and this acceptance actually comes from the novel Pigs in Heaven, which is a sequel to The Bean Trees. In PiH, Annawake Fourkiller insists that Turtle must be with her tribe because the Cheerokee nation had already lost so many of it's children, and the culture must remain as intact as possible after being fractured so many times. I grew up in a nuclear family so their concept of what is family and the closeness of the tribe is so foreign to me, yet this is also a thread in my family's cloth. It makes me a little sad that I can't fully understand.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Fuck!
I am not happy with myself right now. The thoughts in my head are "I should have registered earlier" or variants of the same.
Today was an orientation/advising/class registration day at the college. I already felt panicy about 15 minutes into the orientation because I worried that my financial aid wouldn't be able to cover the tuition but I calmed down for a bit. While waiting for an advisor, I talked to a couple people.. usual socializing type stuff.
I sat down with an advisor and we went through the course guide and such to find classes that weren't already filled since the ones I wanted to take (English 101 and Math 080) were closed. I ended up with "Powerful College Reading", "Intro to Human Services", and "Intro to Education". Not too bad. It's still kinda down the career choices I've thought about.
I found a payphone in a separate building and called dad to say that I finished with the advisor and that I was on my way to the financial aid office, which was in an entirely different building. It was about 5 minutes past 4 PM at that time.
I found the building and went up to the floor, and immediately waited in line for around 10 minutes before meeting with a financial aid person. I was to turn in a data sheet and some sort of dependency sheet with a copy of our 2008 tax form. Turns out that I couldn't copy the tax form in that office so I had to go back to the building I used the payphone in and to the library to use the copy machine there.
Well, the damn library was closed but there was a copy machine for use in the student newspaper room so I used that and ran back to the financial aid people. I waited a few more minutes in the line (not nearly as bad as it was earlier), only to recieve bad news.
My FAFSA shit was turned in too late or processed too late or something so it wouldn't be sent in time for the fall quarter. I could still use it but not until the winter and spring quarters.
THe thing is, I NEED to go to college so I can stay on mom's dental insurance so unless I can pay the $985.00 out of pocket, I'm fucked! I wouldn't be so fucked if I didn't have to take on 12 or more credits but.. shit. It needs to be paid by September 1st, 6 PM. There is the 20/40 plan though, but we still wouldn't be able to afford it.
The 20/40 plan is where I pay half the tuition by September 1st, then 1/4 of the remainder on the 20th calendar day, then the last 1/4 on the 40th calendar day. It's a binding contract though so once I sign up for it, I have to pay it that way. The financial aid lady said they'd reimburse me for paying out of pocket but the pocket is damn empty right now.
I'm going to figure out another way to pay this off, but right now I'm too tired and upset to think about it any more. Dad is/was pretty pissed off about it after I told him but there isn't anything that can be done in this exact moment.
Oh, and the universe must have thought it was funny to have a bank statement sent to me to once again remind me I have $13.70 in my account. My statements are sent so sporadically that I haven't been expecting one for months and it happened to be delivered today. Fucking hilarious.
Today was an orientation/advising/class registration day at the college. I already felt panicy about 15 minutes into the orientation because I worried that my financial aid wouldn't be able to cover the tuition but I calmed down for a bit. While waiting for an advisor, I talked to a couple people.. usual socializing type stuff.
I sat down with an advisor and we went through the course guide and such to find classes that weren't already filled since the ones I wanted to take (English 101 and Math 080) were closed. I ended up with "Powerful College Reading", "Intro to Human Services", and "Intro to Education". Not too bad. It's still kinda down the career choices I've thought about.
I found a payphone in a separate building and called dad to say that I finished with the advisor and that I was on my way to the financial aid office, which was in an entirely different building. It was about 5 minutes past 4 PM at that time.
I found the building and went up to the floor, and immediately waited in line for around 10 minutes before meeting with a financial aid person. I was to turn in a data sheet and some sort of dependency sheet with a copy of our 2008 tax form. Turns out that I couldn't copy the tax form in that office so I had to go back to the building I used the payphone in and to the library to use the copy machine there.
Well, the damn library was closed but there was a copy machine for use in the student newspaper room so I used that and ran back to the financial aid people. I waited a few more minutes in the line (not nearly as bad as it was earlier), only to recieve bad news.
My FAFSA shit was turned in too late or processed too late or something so it wouldn't be sent in time for the fall quarter. I could still use it but not until the winter and spring quarters.
THe thing is, I NEED to go to college so I can stay on mom's dental insurance so unless I can pay the $985.00 out of pocket, I'm fucked! I wouldn't be so fucked if I didn't have to take on 12 or more credits but.. shit. It needs to be paid by September 1st, 6 PM. There is the 20/40 plan though, but we still wouldn't be able to afford it.
The 20/40 plan is where I pay half the tuition by September 1st, then 1/4 of the remainder on the 20th calendar day, then the last 1/4 on the 40th calendar day. It's a binding contract though so once I sign up for it, I have to pay it that way. The financial aid lady said they'd reimburse me for paying out of pocket but the pocket is damn empty right now.
I'm going to figure out another way to pay this off, but right now I'm too tired and upset to think about it any more. Dad is/was pretty pissed off about it after I told him but there isn't anything that can be done in this exact moment.
Oh, and the universe must have thought it was funny to have a bank statement sent to me to once again remind me I have $13.70 in my account. My statements are sent so sporadically that I haven't been expecting one for months and it happened to be delivered today. Fucking hilarious.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Oh god, my head is spinning
I can't remember when I began to recognize what happened to me in middle school was emotional abuse, but I do remember moments that paint a portrait of how I was feeling even back in 9th grade, and that support the given aftereffects of classroom emotional abuse (OH HOW I LOVE THAT TITLE! I've found a title for it!).
First, there is an article that outlines classroom emotional abuse and what counselors can do about it. I found a really long excerpt of it online and read it, and it was long enough to adress the problem and name some of the emotional/psychological consequences.
In the section labeled "Academic", it goes on to say:
"Emotional abuse can lead to lower motivation for school attendance, incompletion of academic assignments, and negative student-teacher interactions (Hymen & Snook, 1999). Hymen and Snook contented that students may also experience difficulty paying attention; staying on task; thinking clearly; focusing on schoolwork in general; and performing at lower levels, academically, on measures of ability and achievement. The factors cited can significantly affect academic emprogress and impede promotion to subsequent grade levels, placing students who have been emotionally abused at risk of failing in school and potentionally dropping out of school early. Consequently, thoese measures are strong indicators to counselors that a student may be experiencing emotional abuse."
I had to pause and remember to breathe when typing that because it hits me on the most personal level. EVERYTHING there describes me with some things even leading up to my last year of high school. That is how long that shit lasted for me.
Oh my god, this is just amazing.
In the next paragraph, it goes:
"Students who experience emotional abuse in the classroom display behavioral problems in schools (Hymen & Snook, 1999; Stevens, 1996). They may become rebellious and belligerent toward teachers or display impulsive aggressive behaviors (e.g., hitting and fighting) towards other students. They are often seen picking fights with peers and may at times act cold, hard, and unfeeling (Gootman, 1993). In addition, some of these students may experience feelings of anxiety and phobic reactions toward school. Students who have been emotionally abused may learn to fear and resent their teachers rather than respect them. Teachers become aversive individuals in the student's life, someone to escape from or to avoid (Gootman, 1993; Maggiolo, 1998). Emotionally abused children may also demonstrate hypervigilant, suspicious, and mistrustful behavior or appear to always be on the lookout for potential dangers (Conlee, 1986). Often, they are moody and afraid to express their feelings (Gootman, 1993). "
The way that I can recall reacting at the time wasn't aggressive because I was wrapped up in grieving and too busy feeling like an awful kid for failing in school. Although, there is one instance that happened in 11th grade where I was very unfeeling to a comment that maybe would have hurt me on a different day, but on that particular day and in that moment I literally did not give a shit.
It was in my Speech and Debate class and a friend and I were set to go on to debate against each other. However, my friend started to have a really severe panic attack with the shakes all over and everything. She could not go on for the debate in that condition so I got up to tell the teacher that we could not debate today and that she was having a panic attack. The teacher was looking me in the eye and she said "You just ruined the whole class period." in a very cold voice. I reacted by grinning and almost laughing in her face because my priority was not in defending George Bush in a debate, but in getting my friend to the counselor. I did that and came back to the classroom and we did some sort of writing assignment instead. The teacher had frustration just oozing into her voice but I still did not care.
I don't know if that would count in this case of the behavioral effects of EA, but it was the first thing that came to mind when I read that bit.
There is one more article that I found that also hit me really hard: First Do No Harm: Emotional Maltreatment in the Classroom.
It quoted the NAEYC Code of Ethical Conduct in saying "Above all, we shall not harm children. We shall not participate in practices that emotionally damaging, physically harmful, disrespectful, degrading, dangerous, exploitative, or intimidating to the children." When I read that, I actually laughed because I thought about these teachers from my past and thought this quote was funny in disbelief. They had violated this.
Now, the thing that I found most difficult to read in the article was the example of Ms. Jones and Robert, a first grader. The constant reminding that Robert would be put back into kindergarten has been completely.... imprinted on my mind because almost the same exact thing happened to me throughout 7th grade. Instead of threatening to put me back a grade, the teacher instead said "You will be held back in 8th grade if you keep this up. I am one of the teachers that decides wether or not a student gets retained a grade." I could not meet their standards and robotic feelings so they were going to attempt to hold me back but my family had moved.
Odd. I find it difficult to talk about this now.
The really hard thing about this is this quote from the first article talking about how "the factors cited can significantly affect academic progress and impede promotion to subsequent grade levels."
I believe that, at first, my low grade levels were directly from all the grief I was feeling over my sister's death, and now I feel that the continued failure in school is a direct result of the emotional abuse that I was experiencing. The threats to hold me back didn't motivate me and instead made me feel worse. Though we left after 8th grade, I continued to not feel motivated/even care about school and afraid of my teachers even if they were different and I continued to have low grades. I ended up having to repeat the 12th grade because I lacked the right amount of credits to graduate on time. This was really hard on me at first in my second around and I was starting to consider dropping out because I already felt worthless and like a failure, and that I could never be successful at life.
Fuck. I need to stop right now.
First, there is an article that outlines classroom emotional abuse and what counselors can do about it. I found a really long excerpt of it online and read it, and it was long enough to adress the problem and name some of the emotional/psychological consequences.
In the section labeled "Academic", it goes on to say:
"Emotional abuse can lead to lower motivation for school attendance, incompletion of academic assignments, and negative student-teacher interactions (Hymen & Snook, 1999). Hymen and Snook contented that students may also experience difficulty paying attention; staying on task; thinking clearly; focusing on schoolwork in general; and performing at lower levels, academically, on measures of ability and achievement. The factors cited can significantly affect academic emprogress and impede promotion to subsequent grade levels, placing students who have been emotionally abused at risk of failing in school and potentionally dropping out of school early. Consequently, thoese measures are strong indicators to counselors that a student may be experiencing emotional abuse."
I had to pause and remember to breathe when typing that because it hits me on the most personal level. EVERYTHING there describes me with some things even leading up to my last year of high school. That is how long that shit lasted for me.
Oh my god, this is just amazing.
In the next paragraph, it goes:
"Students who experience emotional abuse in the classroom display behavioral problems in schools (Hymen & Snook, 1999; Stevens, 1996). They may become rebellious and belligerent toward teachers or display impulsive aggressive behaviors (e.g., hitting and fighting) towards other students. They are often seen picking fights with peers and may at times act cold, hard, and unfeeling (Gootman, 1993). In addition, some of these students may experience feelings of anxiety and phobic reactions toward school. Students who have been emotionally abused may learn to fear and resent their teachers rather than respect them. Teachers become aversive individuals in the student's life, someone to escape from or to avoid (Gootman, 1993; Maggiolo, 1998). Emotionally abused children may also demonstrate hypervigilant, suspicious, and mistrustful behavior or appear to always be on the lookout for potential dangers (Conlee, 1986). Often, they are moody and afraid to express their feelings (Gootman, 1993). "
The way that I can recall reacting at the time wasn't aggressive because I was wrapped up in grieving and too busy feeling like an awful kid for failing in school. Although, there is one instance that happened in 11th grade where I was very unfeeling to a comment that maybe would have hurt me on a different day, but on that particular day and in that moment I literally did not give a shit.
It was in my Speech and Debate class and a friend and I were set to go on to debate against each other. However, my friend started to have a really severe panic attack with the shakes all over and everything. She could not go on for the debate in that condition so I got up to tell the teacher that we could not debate today and that she was having a panic attack. The teacher was looking me in the eye and she said "You just ruined the whole class period." in a very cold voice. I reacted by grinning and almost laughing in her face because my priority was not in defending George Bush in a debate, but in getting my friend to the counselor. I did that and came back to the classroom and we did some sort of writing assignment instead. The teacher had frustration just oozing into her voice but I still did not care.
I don't know if that would count in this case of the behavioral effects of EA, but it was the first thing that came to mind when I read that bit.
There is one more article that I found that also hit me really hard: First Do No Harm: Emotional Maltreatment in the Classroom.
It quoted the NAEYC Code of Ethical Conduct in saying "Above all, we shall not harm children. We shall not participate in practices that emotionally damaging, physically harmful, disrespectful, degrading, dangerous, exploitative, or intimidating to the children." When I read that, I actually laughed because I thought about these teachers from my past and thought this quote was funny in disbelief. They had violated this.
Now, the thing that I found most difficult to read in the article was the example of Ms. Jones and Robert, a first grader. The constant reminding that Robert would be put back into kindergarten has been completely.... imprinted on my mind because almost the same exact thing happened to me throughout 7th grade. Instead of threatening to put me back a grade, the teacher instead said "You will be held back in 8th grade if you keep this up. I am one of the teachers that decides wether or not a student gets retained a grade." I could not meet their standards and robotic feelings so they were going to attempt to hold me back but my family had moved.
Odd. I find it difficult to talk about this now.
The really hard thing about this is this quote from the first article talking about how "the factors cited can significantly affect academic progress and impede promotion to subsequent grade levels."
I believe that, at first, my low grade levels were directly from all the grief I was feeling over my sister's death, and now I feel that the continued failure in school is a direct result of the emotional abuse that I was experiencing. The threats to hold me back didn't motivate me and instead made me feel worse. Though we left after 8th grade, I continued to not feel motivated/even care about school and afraid of my teachers even if they were different and I continued to have low grades. I ended up having to repeat the 12th grade because I lacked the right amount of credits to graduate on time. This was really hard on me at first in my second around and I was starting to consider dropping out because I already felt worthless and like a failure, and that I could never be successful at life.
Fuck. I need to stop right now.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Oof
So dad got the proposal back from the workplace down in California and it's niiiice... they'd pay him a little more than he asked for (which is a little less than what he made at a seperate but similar company, but still good) and he'd have medical insurance 'n everything. We're all going to be discussing it more to see if this is really the right choice since this kind of thing is a long-term commitment and it'd be hard having him live all the way back in CA again without us.
Not much else to update there.
Meanwhile, I held my own against my grandpa earlier, which made me feel nice. He's not a mean guy or anything, but sometimes he just goes on and on about something and the typical reaction when he does this is just to smile and nod and let him ramble. However, he was talking to *me* so that means me not giving in so easily. We were first talking about my college plans and he reminded me for about five minutes straight to make sure my credits were transferrable when I had just gotten through saying I was going to do that, and then I told him how I already talked to some psychology advisors and one of them said that talking to me about my career choice (art therapy) would be fascinating and he'd be happy to help. Papa went on saying that I also need to look at the pay and how good it is.
Thus, I told him "Well I'm not doing this for the money Papa" and he continues on wondering about the job oppertunities available for an art therapist. I informed him that art therapists work at all sorts of places like hospitals, halfway homes, batterered womens shelters, emergency clinics, etcetc but he focused in on my mentioning of halfway houses and remarked that something like that probably wouldn't pay too well.
This conversation was going to piss me off if it continued so I told him that during my first round of 12th grade, I looked up the annual salary for art therapists but could not remember what it was (which is true, it was for my project), but at the time it didn't matter to me anyway because the standard of living changes all the time. I continued with "Now look at how the economy is in this current moment--2009, and how different the standard of living is now compared to ten years ago. By the time I get certified, which will take more than four years, the standard will be different then."
This actually got through to him and he said "That's true."
And it is.
A while back, him and grandma suggested that I become a pharmacist because it pays really well, and I forced a smile while reaching far to try to connect that career to my passions in life. My reach was pathetic. I said "Well... I guess it'd kinda be like helping people since I'd be giving them medication." and they smiled their smiles, but the idea didn't sit with me. I tried looking up pharmeceutical schools in my state and there is a class or something at University of Washington, but that university is so out of my league and I don't want to pay a rediculous amount of money for a career that I won't even be happy doing.
Yes, money is important but I am not chosing a career just because it'd be financially stable.
In fact, the whole reason I've been looking at career choices where art is part of it but not the whole thing is so that way I could have avoided conversations like the one I had with Papa earlier. Society beats the whole "starving artist" image into our head and I got so convinced of this that I decided to never have a gallery of my art or do freelance work. This might have actually derailed my motivation to continue it because I don't feel the same way that I did before.
As a kid, I had dreamed of my future job to just be "artist". I wrote in an essay that I'd make people's homes beautiful with my paintings. Now with more cynicism moving around in my brain, I've looked outside the box and part of it just doesn't feel right. I need to get back to my roots.
You don't need to be rich to be happy. I'd like to make enough money to support a house or apartment with the bills and food stuff and have enough to continue my passions in life, and that would be fine with me.
It's weird to be holding onto this dream when my family is in the middle of a financial rut. Although, money doesn't make me happy.
Not much else to update there.
Meanwhile, I held my own against my grandpa earlier, which made me feel nice. He's not a mean guy or anything, but sometimes he just goes on and on about something and the typical reaction when he does this is just to smile and nod and let him ramble. However, he was talking to *me* so that means me not giving in so easily. We were first talking about my college plans and he reminded me for about five minutes straight to make sure my credits were transferrable when I had just gotten through saying I was going to do that, and then I told him how I already talked to some psychology advisors and one of them said that talking to me about my career choice (art therapy) would be fascinating and he'd be happy to help. Papa went on saying that I also need to look at the pay and how good it is.
Thus, I told him "Well I'm not doing this for the money Papa" and he continues on wondering about the job oppertunities available for an art therapist. I informed him that art therapists work at all sorts of places like hospitals, halfway homes, batterered womens shelters, emergency clinics, etcetc but he focused in on my mentioning of halfway houses and remarked that something like that probably wouldn't pay too well.
This conversation was going to piss me off if it continued so I told him that during my first round of 12th grade, I looked up the annual salary for art therapists but could not remember what it was (which is true, it was for my project), but at the time it didn't matter to me anyway because the standard of living changes all the time. I continued with "Now look at how the economy is in this current moment--2009, and how different the standard of living is now compared to ten years ago. By the time I get certified, which will take more than four years, the standard will be different then."
This actually got through to him and he said "That's true."
And it is.
A while back, him and grandma suggested that I become a pharmacist because it pays really well, and I forced a smile while reaching far to try to connect that career to my passions in life. My reach was pathetic. I said "Well... I guess it'd kinda be like helping people since I'd be giving them medication." and they smiled their smiles, but the idea didn't sit with me. I tried looking up pharmeceutical schools in my state and there is a class or something at University of Washington, but that university is so out of my league and I don't want to pay a rediculous amount of money for a career that I won't even be happy doing.
Yes, money is important but I am not chosing a career just because it'd be financially stable.
In fact, the whole reason I've been looking at career choices where art is part of it but not the whole thing is so that way I could have avoided conversations like the one I had with Papa earlier. Society beats the whole "starving artist" image into our head and I got so convinced of this that I decided to never have a gallery of my art or do freelance work. This might have actually derailed my motivation to continue it because I don't feel the same way that I did before.
As a kid, I had dreamed of my future job to just be "artist". I wrote in an essay that I'd make people's homes beautiful with my paintings. Now with more cynicism moving around in my brain, I've looked outside the box and part of it just doesn't feel right. I need to get back to my roots.
You don't need to be rich to be happy. I'd like to make enough money to support a house or apartment with the bills and food stuff and have enough to continue my passions in life, and that would be fine with me.
It's weird to be holding onto this dream when my family is in the middle of a financial rut. Although, money doesn't make me happy.
Holy shit
Earlier I was washing the dishes as I always do and singing along to "Romanticide" when I heard dad call me from the stairs. A phonecall came in for me. My first guess was a friend that'd ask me if I could come over, but it was actually that friend's boyfriend. Both of 'em are my best friends.
I asked what's up and he repeated the question to me, so I figured he was just fooling around. I told him that I was washing dishes and I began to notice that his reponses were... off. When I asked him what's up he's like "aah... it's weird..." Thus, something was wrong.
Turns out, his grandma has pancriatic cancer and was also given 5 month's time. Holy shit. Holy shit.
He called 'cause he needed someone to talk to and also with my family's experience with losing Nicole to cancer (different type). I told him that it almost seems different for each person but the common thread is that it's difficult.
He was like "I guess I'm supposed to be sad, but I'm just kinda.... meh" (can't remember his actual wording here but it was close). I guessed "Shock?"
Further on, I told him to feel whatever emotions come to him since no one is really "supposed" to feel any which way. If you were supposed to feel one thing, then you'd feel it.
We had an off-topic conversation soon after but there was still a different sort of tone to his voice. It's freaky to think about...
I told him in the past that he worries me because he opens himself up to everyone's problems and he's a good listener, but outside of relationship stuff... I think this is the first big problem he's told me about. We've had conversations where we talked about stuff in his past but nothing "current" seemed to happen. There was one thing though, but I didn't know it was even happening until his girlfriend came over to my house one day and burst into tears when she told me. He hid that pretty well, almost.
This though.. he's opened up to me and it's almost weird because I've gone though something similar over 8 years ago.
I don't know if he's close with his grandma (it seems he is with his emotional response), but either way she is a part of his identity and family history and it's just really kinda.. devastating to think about the fact he's losing that and that there isn't anything that anyone can do about it. He isn't a control freak, but he does like it when there is something he can do about something and gets really quiet and uncomfortable otherwise. With his girlfriend though, she has sensed that he's wanted to help her out of her family situation but whenever she talked about it with him she just wanted him to listen and not really say much about it since there wasn't anything else he could do. It was a tense time for them.
With an impending death though, that is a whole other can of worms. Listening in on how he reacts in the months ahead is... definitely going to be different. It hurts me to think about but I cannot imagine what him or his family is going through. Yes, there is the prior experience with Nicole but she had fought for 2 years before passing on. With his grandma, it seems like they found out very recently and that she didn't get a chance to fight it off. Five fucking months. That's terrifying.
I asked what's up and he repeated the question to me, so I figured he was just fooling around. I told him that I was washing dishes and I began to notice that his reponses were... off. When I asked him what's up he's like "aah... it's weird..." Thus, something was wrong.
Turns out, his grandma has pancriatic cancer and was also given 5 month's time. Holy shit. Holy shit.
He called 'cause he needed someone to talk to and also with my family's experience with losing Nicole to cancer (different type). I told him that it almost seems different for each person but the common thread is that it's difficult.
He was like "I guess I'm supposed to be sad, but I'm just kinda.... meh" (can't remember his actual wording here but it was close). I guessed "Shock?"
Further on, I told him to feel whatever emotions come to him since no one is really "supposed" to feel any which way. If you were supposed to feel one thing, then you'd feel it.
We had an off-topic conversation soon after but there was still a different sort of tone to his voice. It's freaky to think about...
I told him in the past that he worries me because he opens himself up to everyone's problems and he's a good listener, but outside of relationship stuff... I think this is the first big problem he's told me about. We've had conversations where we talked about stuff in his past but nothing "current" seemed to happen. There was one thing though, but I didn't know it was even happening until his girlfriend came over to my house one day and burst into tears when she told me. He hid that pretty well, almost.
This though.. he's opened up to me and it's almost weird because I've gone though something similar over 8 years ago.
I don't know if he's close with his grandma (it seems he is with his emotional response), but either way she is a part of his identity and family history and it's just really kinda.. devastating to think about the fact he's losing that and that there isn't anything that anyone can do about it. He isn't a control freak, but he does like it when there is something he can do about something and gets really quiet and uncomfortable otherwise. With his girlfriend though, she has sensed that he's wanted to help her out of her family situation but whenever she talked about it with him she just wanted him to listen and not really say much about it since there wasn't anything else he could do. It was a tense time for them.
With an impending death though, that is a whole other can of worms. Listening in on how he reacts in the months ahead is... definitely going to be different. It hurts me to think about but I cannot imagine what him or his family is going through. Yes, there is the prior experience with Nicole but she had fought for 2 years before passing on. With his grandma, it seems like they found out very recently and that she didn't get a chance to fight it off. Five fucking months. That's terrifying.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Jobs and other things
At the beginning of this year, dad called up a place in California that he used to work at to see if there were any jobs available for him. Almost all the same people were still there so they said "Yeah, come down for an interview!" and so he flew down there for a couple of days and did the interview.
Now, we're in Washington so if he had gotten the job then, he would have had to either move down there and send money to us (mom, aunt and I) while maintaining a cheap rent OR the company would begin to branch into the pacific northwest and he'd work up here. Although, they called him back up and said that there are no jobs available for him at that time and to call back in 6 months.
Well lately, him and the company have been talking and they have a job for him!
The thing is, he might end up having to live down in California if the offer is good enough. He'd need to get paid at least 20 dollars an hour so he can pay his rent (my grandpa-his dad-offered up his RV for dad to live in for 300 dollars a month) and for his food and such as well as to send money for us.
Meanwhile, mom has started working A LOT more often because one of her coworkers had to quit. That coworker is pregnant and the workplace is supremely stressful since all of the corporate people are complete fucking idiots. Everyone there is basically tearing their hair out. There was a time recently though where mom was trying to prepare herself in case she was going to lose her job because their store (it's a Blockbuster) is apparently easy to steal from so everyone was going to blame the employees and fire everyone. I don't think that is going to happen now since one of the higher-up authority people came in for a shift and saw how much was ripped off while she was there and realized that the employees can't stay at til and wander around the store to keep people from stealing at the same time.
My aunt's work has also had it's problems and she got worried for a bit that she was losing HER job so it's been really... tight around here. It's been stressful.
It seems to be starting to turn around a little now which is fucking awesome. It feels kinda like my prayers are being answered :3
Speaking of prayers, I've been reading my copy of When I See the Wild God by Ly de Angeles. The only sort of religion that I grew up with was Wicca, but my family and I haven't actively practiced it for many years. Dad doesn't seem to have any sort of religious faith in anything whereas my mom and aunt are into Gnostic sort of ideals. Me? I'm staying in this sort of paganism path because it is what feels right and I am putting my focus on the Celtic panthenon first and if that doesn't work out, then I'll explore other options. However, this one feels like it fits right into not only what I believe but also my heritage. Part of my family comes from Ireland and and another part is from Scotland.. it wouldn't be suprising if there is some Welsh blood in there somewhere too.
Either way, some part of me is... separated quite painfully from Ireland and everytime I see a picture of that land, it becomes a little more unbearable to be *here* in the States than *there*. It isn't just a "I want to go to Ireland" kind of thing. I want to LIVE there for a while and study the ancient beliefs and dig into the land. I want to weave myself into the World Tree.
..hm... the best way to really explain it is that part of me belongs there. I love my country, but this longing to find a more suitable home is trying to pull me to Ireland.
In the meantime, I am studying up on the Celtic panthenon. I haven't started practicing yet nor have I declared myself to be fully "wiccan" or what have you. There is still a lot more to uncover before I dive into the rituals and titles. I want to commit myself to this.
Now, we're in Washington so if he had gotten the job then, he would have had to either move down there and send money to us (mom, aunt and I) while maintaining a cheap rent OR the company would begin to branch into the pacific northwest and he'd work up here. Although, they called him back up and said that there are no jobs available for him at that time and to call back in 6 months.
Well lately, him and the company have been talking and they have a job for him!
The thing is, he might end up having to live down in California if the offer is good enough. He'd need to get paid at least 20 dollars an hour so he can pay his rent (my grandpa-his dad-offered up his RV for dad to live in for 300 dollars a month) and for his food and such as well as to send money for us.
Meanwhile, mom has started working A LOT more often because one of her coworkers had to quit. That coworker is pregnant and the workplace is supremely stressful since all of the corporate people are complete fucking idiots. Everyone there is basically tearing their hair out. There was a time recently though where mom was trying to prepare herself in case she was going to lose her job because their store (it's a Blockbuster) is apparently easy to steal from so everyone was going to blame the employees and fire everyone. I don't think that is going to happen now since one of the higher-up authority people came in for a shift and saw how much was ripped off while she was there and realized that the employees can't stay at til and wander around the store to keep people from stealing at the same time.
My aunt's work has also had it's problems and she got worried for a bit that she was losing HER job so it's been really... tight around here. It's been stressful.
It seems to be starting to turn around a little now which is fucking awesome. It feels kinda like my prayers are being answered :3
Speaking of prayers, I've been reading my copy of When I See the Wild God by Ly de Angeles. The only sort of religion that I grew up with was Wicca, but my family and I haven't actively practiced it for many years. Dad doesn't seem to have any sort of religious faith in anything whereas my mom and aunt are into Gnostic sort of ideals. Me? I'm staying in this sort of paganism path because it is what feels right and I am putting my focus on the Celtic panthenon first and if that doesn't work out, then I'll explore other options. However, this one feels like it fits right into not only what I believe but also my heritage. Part of my family comes from Ireland and and another part is from Scotland.. it wouldn't be suprising if there is some Welsh blood in there somewhere too.
Either way, some part of me is... separated quite painfully from Ireland and everytime I see a picture of that land, it becomes a little more unbearable to be *here* in the States than *there*. It isn't just a "I want to go to Ireland" kind of thing. I want to LIVE there for a while and study the ancient beliefs and dig into the land. I want to weave myself into the World Tree.
..hm... the best way to really explain it is that part of me belongs there. I love my country, but this longing to find a more suitable home is trying to pull me to Ireland.
In the meantime, I am studying up on the Celtic panthenon. I haven't started practicing yet nor have I declared myself to be fully "wiccan" or what have you. There is still a lot more to uncover before I dive into the rituals and titles. I want to commit myself to this.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Creative flow
Oh my god, I feel so excited right now! As I've said in past updates, I'm going to college in the fall.
Now, since my first round of 12th grade, I've wanted to do a campaign on sexual assault that opens it's arms to both male and female victims as well as informs people who have never experienced this crime what their survivor friends are experiencing, and what they can do. I'd emphasize on resources for survivors, abolishing myths, and highlighting the aftereffects of sexual assault. Somehow, all this would be done in a safe setting and obviously triggers would still be there.. but I'd really want to create a space for those affected by it to express themselves while secondary survivors get a better understanding. With those three areas to hit on, maybe that might be accomplished.
I've chosen those three main areas to hit because of what I've noticed just from the people I've interacted with in high school and being sexually harassed. Firstly, I didn't even know what had happened counted as sexual harassment, and I didn't know where to go or who to talk to.
Secondly, for my friends and family members, I wanted to help them understand what was going on in my head.
Thirdly, I did my senior project which talked about sexual assault with freshmen and a friendship almost got ruined from a really hurtful thing a friend said to me. We worked it out, but it was a brutal reminder that rape culture is alive even in high school.
Now, with what I'm planning, it's going to be at my college but I want to contact the high schools in this area so they can tell their students. That way, the college gets promotion and RAINN gets promotion.. other sources get promotion, and people get informed or help--even both.
The idea is still in the sketching stages, but what I hope to achieve is a campus-wide event (or at least spread out in a contained area) with different sections that represent a stage in the emotional aftereffect of sexual assault. At the anger section, maybe I can get old dishes or pillows to be broken or punched so they can take their anger out.
In the saddness/grief/depression sort of area, I want to have flyers with a big candle printed on them and lots of coloring tools so people can color in their own candle and have it posted on a wall. The candle can be "lit" to grieve the person they used to be or a vigil for someone they knew, or even just for all survivors. Affirmations and hopes for the future can be written on them.
For other sections, I'm not sure yet. I need to brush up on my research.
Meanwhile, inbetween all the sections will be informative posters that show statistics that affect both men and women plus abolishing the myths.
It'd be even better if I can have a timer that runs through the whole event that marks a tally for each time someone is sexually assaulted in the United States (every 2.5 minutes).
Speeches can be made throughout the day by speakers, maybe with an open mic time for survivors to come up on the stage to say what they want to say. At the end of the rally, the tally will be counted and the number of people sexually assaulted during that time span could be said out loud. Maybe we can have a moment of silence.
I'd have hotlines for victims posted EVERYWHERE, as well as URLS and organizations that also work to raise awareness.
Oh man, this is getting to be a huge idea but I really want to do this. April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month and the 2010 theme is campus-orientated, and that is so perfect I can just explode.
But I must get organized first.
Now, since my first round of 12th grade, I've wanted to do a campaign on sexual assault that opens it's arms to both male and female victims as well as informs people who have never experienced this crime what their survivor friends are experiencing, and what they can do. I'd emphasize on resources for survivors, abolishing myths, and highlighting the aftereffects of sexual assault. Somehow, all this would be done in a safe setting and obviously triggers would still be there.. but I'd really want to create a space for those affected by it to express themselves while secondary survivors get a better understanding. With those three areas to hit on, maybe that might be accomplished.
I've chosen those three main areas to hit because of what I've noticed just from the people I've interacted with in high school and being sexually harassed. Firstly, I didn't even know what had happened counted as sexual harassment, and I didn't know where to go or who to talk to.
Secondly, for my friends and family members, I wanted to help them understand what was going on in my head.
Thirdly, I did my senior project which talked about sexual assault with freshmen and a friendship almost got ruined from a really hurtful thing a friend said to me. We worked it out, but it was a brutal reminder that rape culture is alive even in high school.
Now, with what I'm planning, it's going to be at my college but I want to contact the high schools in this area so they can tell their students. That way, the college gets promotion and RAINN gets promotion.. other sources get promotion, and people get informed or help--even both.
The idea is still in the sketching stages, but what I hope to achieve is a campus-wide event (or at least spread out in a contained area) with different sections that represent a stage in the emotional aftereffect of sexual assault. At the anger section, maybe I can get old dishes or pillows to be broken or punched so they can take their anger out.
In the saddness/grief/depression sort of area, I want to have flyers with a big candle printed on them and lots of coloring tools so people can color in their own candle and have it posted on a wall. The candle can be "lit" to grieve the person they used to be or a vigil for someone they knew, or even just for all survivors. Affirmations and hopes for the future can be written on them.
For other sections, I'm not sure yet. I need to brush up on my research.
Meanwhile, inbetween all the sections will be informative posters that show statistics that affect both men and women plus abolishing the myths.
It'd be even better if I can have a timer that runs through the whole event that marks a tally for each time someone is sexually assaulted in the United States (every 2.5 minutes).
Speeches can be made throughout the day by speakers, maybe with an open mic time for survivors to come up on the stage to say what they want to say. At the end of the rally, the tally will be counted and the number of people sexually assaulted during that time span could be said out loud. Maybe we can have a moment of silence.
I'd have hotlines for victims posted EVERYWHERE, as well as URLS and organizations that also work to raise awareness.
Oh man, this is getting to be a huge idea but I really want to do this. April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month and the 2010 theme is campus-orientated, and that is so perfect I can just explode.
But I must get organized first.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
500% Increase
Just a moment ago, I typed in http://www.rainn.org since I want to organize a RAINN Day event at my college in April (yes, I registered! I'll be signing up for classes soon :] )
Then I saw this article on their site: http://rainn.org/news-room/news/degrassi-debut and I'm both... horrified and strangely relieved.
I watched this episode when it aired and thought it was awesome that the producers were tackling childhood sexual abuse, especially with how Jane could not remember it until certain triggers pushed the memories out. I've had a close family member go through the same when I was three--I was, unintentionally, triggering her because that was the age that she was molested. I didn't know about this until many years later. A couple years ago, though, I was reading about people who had repressed memories of CSA because it is such a controversial subject, but I didn't get much of an understanding of it until very recently when I bought Trauma and Recovery.
Thanks a lot Freud for contributing to the many doubts about sex abuse victims :[ The more cases he heard from women and children, the less he actually believed because he was completely shocked that sexual abuse was so widespread.
I think this article from RAINN paints a disturbing picture about how widespread it still is--and that is just with the audience that watched the premiere of that episode. How many more victims are out there that haven't come forward yet?
I'm relieved about this statistic because RAINN managed to get their hotline out to a very big audience, and I am happy for the people that came forward about their stories. Talking about it is a very important step in healing.
Then I saw this article on their site: http://rainn.org/news-room/news/degrassi-debut and I'm both... horrified and strangely relieved.
I watched this episode when it aired and thought it was awesome that the producers were tackling childhood sexual abuse, especially with how Jane could not remember it until certain triggers pushed the memories out. I've had a close family member go through the same when I was three--I was, unintentionally, triggering her because that was the age that she was molested. I didn't know about this until many years later. A couple years ago, though, I was reading about people who had repressed memories of CSA because it is such a controversial subject, but I didn't get much of an understanding of it until very recently when I bought Trauma and Recovery.
Thanks a lot Freud for contributing to the many doubts about sex abuse victims :[ The more cases he heard from women and children, the less he actually believed because he was completely shocked that sexual abuse was so widespread.
I think this article from RAINN paints a disturbing picture about how widespread it still is--and that is just with the audience that watched the premiere of that episode. How many more victims are out there that haven't come forward yet?
I'm relieved about this statistic because RAINN managed to get their hotline out to a very big audience, and I am happy for the people that came forward about their stories. Talking about it is a very important step in healing.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Tori Amos concert
jesus, I am so tired but I gotta write this down before I forget a lot of it~
TORI AMOS
She opened her Sinful Attraction tour in Seattle today and daaamn.
We got lost on the way to the theater but managed to make it inside after the opening act was already done playing. We sat and chatted with the fellow next to us (who drove down from Vancouver) and it was great fun--especially when the lights went down and everyone started screaming as the band got up on the stage.
Tori was dressed in green with gold leggings since "we're in the Emerald City" (as she said :D) and opened with "Give" off of her new album.
I don't really know the names of a lot of the really new songs that she played so I'll put in the songs that I DID know that she played (not in the right order though, I am so out of it): Cornflake Girl, Icicle, Crucify, Bells for Her (mom started sobbing when she played this), Landslide (and dad started in when this came on), Sugar, Precious Things, Baker Baker, Space Dog, Bliss, Carbon, China, Digital Ghost, Strong Black Vine, Curtain Call, and Past the Mission.
HOLY
SHIT
I think she was trying to kill us, seriously.
First of all, it was funny near the beginning she said that she was gonna take requests (mom yelled out "Marianne" and I yelled "Code Red") but I don't think she really did from anyone in the *audience*. My parents and I suspect that Nicole was floating around up by the stage and giving Tori hints as to what to play. That's why mom started crying when she started playing Bells for Her since that is one of Nicole's songs.
RIGHT AFTER that, she started talking about her brother (who died around 2004 I think) and this made me sad since I can relate to the loss of a sibling, and then she started with this piano melody that sounded reaaalllyyy familiar and I thought "Oh my god, is she going to play "Toast"?" but as soon as she sang "I took my love and I took it down", this really.....
this really indescribable feeling just stabbed me right in the gut and I looked over at my parents and they both started just crying. This was also one of the songs we tend to associate with Nicole made even more intense by it being completely unexpected.
BUT
It was just damn awesome.
This was my first Tori concert and it was definitely killer. I hope to meet her someday :B
TORI AMOS
She opened her Sinful Attraction tour in Seattle today and daaamn.
We got lost on the way to the theater but managed to make it inside after the opening act was already done playing. We sat and chatted with the fellow next to us (who drove down from Vancouver) and it was great fun--especially when the lights went down and everyone started screaming as the band got up on the stage.
Tori was dressed in green with gold leggings since "we're in the Emerald City" (as she said :D) and opened with "Give" off of her new album.
I don't really know the names of a lot of the really new songs that she played so I'll put in the songs that I DID know that she played (not in the right order though, I am so out of it): Cornflake Girl, Icicle, Crucify, Bells for Her (mom started sobbing when she played this), Landslide (and dad started in when this came on), Sugar, Precious Things, Baker Baker, Space Dog, Bliss, Carbon, China, Digital Ghost, Strong Black Vine, Curtain Call, and Past the Mission.
HOLY
SHIT
I think she was trying to kill us, seriously.
First of all, it was funny near the beginning she said that she was gonna take requests (mom yelled out "Marianne" and I yelled "Code Red") but I don't think she really did from anyone in the *audience*. My parents and I suspect that Nicole was floating around up by the stage and giving Tori hints as to what to play. That's why mom started crying when she started playing Bells for Her since that is one of Nicole's songs.
RIGHT AFTER that, she started talking about her brother (who died around 2004 I think) and this made me sad since I can relate to the loss of a sibling, and then she started with this piano melody that sounded reaaalllyyy familiar and I thought "Oh my god, is she going to play "Toast"?" but as soon as she sang "I took my love and I took it down", this really.....
this really indescribable feeling just stabbed me right in the gut and I looked over at my parents and they both started just crying. This was also one of the songs we tend to associate with Nicole made even more intense by it being completely unexpected.
BUT
It was just damn awesome.
This was my first Tori concert and it was definitely killer. I hope to meet her someday :B
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Torimania
My mom's birthday is in three days. That is also the start of Tori Amos's new tour, and she is starting in Seattle.
We got tickets to go the day that they were on sale :D
Dad brought mom a copy of Little Earthquakes in 1993. I was three years old and unintentionally acting as a trigger for lots of bad things, so mom was in a really bad spot mentally at the time. Dad brought her this tape and said "You need to listen to this." So she did, and the music of this woman helped pull mom through this dark period.
Mom has also said that listening to Tori with Nicole (older sis, RIP), helped mend their relationship because they weren't as close for a long time. Thus, Nicole was also a Tori fan.
The first song I can remember hearing is "Crucify" (which is unfortunate that I have a really difficult time listening to it now, but that is a different story for a different day)
Now, 16 years after first hearing Tori as a child, I am finally going with mom and dad to see her live. Holy shit!
Her music has also pulled me through some tough times. "1000 Oceans", for example, was played at Nicole's memorial.
In some sense, I can relate to almost everything on the album "Little Earthquakes". "Me and a Gun" is a bit hard to chew through purely because it is completely haunting. I have never been raped, but this song can still effect me.
Lately, "China" has been on my mind because of odd feelings about a friend buuut I really don't want to get into that right now...
I remember constantly listening to "Under The Pink" throughout 8th grade, especially the song "Bells for Her". The line "You have her face and her eyes but you are not her" reminds me A LOT of Nicole because I look (and apparently sound) a lot like her. What is really creepy is that a few years after focusing on that one line in the song, I read Nicole's rants and found that she wrote a poem about me, to me, and opened it by using that same exact quote. Fucking creepy.
I dove into "Boys for Pele" after the breakup of my last relationship (way back in 2007, oh jeez). Don't get me wrong--the breakup was really easy. I had wanted to break up with him but he ended up beating me to the punch. There was a time after where I felt fine, but then I began to realize the depths of how I felt about him in regards to how he felt about me, and suddenly I was in a very bad place. For some reason, I felt used and really whorish. That is when "Blood Roses" was played constantly on WMP. At the same time, I also listened to "Caught A Lite Sneeze"and "Doughnut Song" because of how I felt about someone else, and "Putting The Damage On" because of a friendship heading in a destructive pathway.
Beyond that, I mish-mashed everything from all the other albums and drew inspiration from many songs for character development in stories and for getting a different perspective on situations.
I can admit that after Halloween 2007, there was a time when I hardly listened to Tori because I was completely infatuated with Nightwish due to the Seattle concert that year. Dark Passion Play was played over and over, and I found it hard to listen to the past albums for a little while. Tori got a long break.
Now, I look back on how I felt about her music in the past and I can see how much I've changed. I'm only 19, but so many events and changes have already happened in my life that it feels like "What more could really happen after this?"... I do hope to still keep listening to Tori as more happens in the future.
We got tickets to go the day that they were on sale :D
Dad brought mom a copy of Little Earthquakes in 1993. I was three years old and unintentionally acting as a trigger for lots of bad things, so mom was in a really bad spot mentally at the time. Dad brought her this tape and said "You need to listen to this." So she did, and the music of this woman helped pull mom through this dark period.
Mom has also said that listening to Tori with Nicole (older sis, RIP), helped mend their relationship because they weren't as close for a long time. Thus, Nicole was also a Tori fan.
The first song I can remember hearing is "Crucify" (which is unfortunate that I have a really difficult time listening to it now, but that is a different story for a different day)
Now, 16 years after first hearing Tori as a child, I am finally going with mom and dad to see her live. Holy shit!
Her music has also pulled me through some tough times. "1000 Oceans", for example, was played at Nicole's memorial.
In some sense, I can relate to almost everything on the album "Little Earthquakes". "Me and a Gun" is a bit hard to chew through purely because it is completely haunting. I have never been raped, but this song can still effect me.
Lately, "China" has been on my mind because of odd feelings about a friend buuut I really don't want to get into that right now...
I remember constantly listening to "Under The Pink" throughout 8th grade, especially the song "Bells for Her". The line "You have her face and her eyes but you are not her" reminds me A LOT of Nicole because I look (and apparently sound) a lot like her. What is really creepy is that a few years after focusing on that one line in the song, I read Nicole's rants and found that she wrote a poem about me, to me, and opened it by using that same exact quote. Fucking creepy.
I dove into "Boys for Pele" after the breakup of my last relationship (way back in 2007, oh jeez). Don't get me wrong--the breakup was really easy. I had wanted to break up with him but he ended up beating me to the punch. There was a time after where I felt fine, but then I began to realize the depths of how I felt about him in regards to how he felt about me, and suddenly I was in a very bad place. For some reason, I felt used and really whorish. That is when "Blood Roses" was played constantly on WMP. At the same time, I also listened to "Caught A Lite Sneeze"and "Doughnut Song" because of how I felt about someone else, and "Putting The Damage On" because of a friendship heading in a destructive pathway.
Beyond that, I mish-mashed everything from all the other albums and drew inspiration from many songs for character development in stories and for getting a different perspective on situations.
I can admit that after Halloween 2007, there was a time when I hardly listened to Tori because I was completely infatuated with Nightwish due to the Seattle concert that year. Dark Passion Play was played over and over, and I found it hard to listen to the past albums for a little while. Tori got a long break.
Now, I look back on how I felt about her music in the past and I can see how much I've changed. I'm only 19, but so many events and changes have already happened in my life that it feels like "What more could really happen after this?"... I do hope to still keep listening to Tori as more happens in the future.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Finally.
As I am coming to terms with just the thought that yes, I was emotionally abused in middle school, I found this: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/31596329/ns/health-behavior/ns/health-behavior/
and all I can think is "fucking duh!"
Here's a couple quick confessions: The first one is that I got a sense of forshortened future that is tied in with my sister's death 8 years ago. This started flaring up after I turned 18--the birthday that she fell short of reaching.
Secondly, the sense of a forshortened future got tied in more of feeling like I won't be successful rather than I will die young, and that sense came from when I began dealing with the aftereffects of emotional abuse. I felt like such a failure in those years that it carried over through high school and I began thinking "What is the point if I'm never going to be successful?". I lost my sense of motivation for a while last year and got it back eventually.. but sometimes it'd fluctuate. One week I'd feel completely optimistic, and the next I just wanted to completely give up. Game over.
Now, onto this article.
"The study, based on a survey of more than 20,000 kids, challenges conventional wisdom that says teens engage in risky behavior because they think they're invulnerable to harm. Instead, a sizable number of teens may take chances "because they feel hopeless and figure that not much is at stake," said study author Dr. Iris Borowsky, a researcher at the University of Minnesota."
Such risky behavior could be things like alcohol abuse and drug use.
Let's consider these statistics though:
Children who have been sexually abused are 2.5 times more likely develop alcohol abuse
Children who have been sexually abused are 3.8 times more likely develop drug addictions
Nearly 2/3’s of the people in treatment for drug abuse reported being abused as children These statistics are compiled from the National Institute on Drug Abuse 2000 Report & Child Abuse & Neglect Study by Arthur Becker-Weidman PhD
http://www.childhelp.org/resources/learning-center/statistics
Also, on that same site:
Abused children are 25% more likely to experience teen pregnancy
Abused teens are 3 times less likely to practice safe sex, putting them at greater risk for STDs
What does this have to do with my sense of forshortened future and this article?
First of all, the article is directly talking about that sense of forshortened future.
A sense of forshortened future is a very common result of abuse, and also considered in the diagnosis of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.
"The individual may have a sense of a foreshortened future (e.g., not expecting to have a career, marriage, children, or a normal life span) (Criterion C7)."
http://www.mental-health-today.com/ptsd/dsm.htm
PTSD arises from traumatic situations, and abuse is pretty damn traumatic.
"Traumatic events that are experienced directly include, but are not limited to, military combat, violent personal assault (sexual assault, physical attack, robbery, mugging), being kidnapped, being taken hostage, terrorist attack, torture, incarceration as a prisoner of war or in a concentration camp, natural or manmade disasters, severe automobile accidents, or being diagnosed with a life-threatening illness. "
Therefore, my hypothesis is that a lot of these teenagers that feel like they're going to die young also have backgrounds of abuse or a traumatic situation.
Therefore, what is the real problem here? A self-fufilling prophecy or why these teens feel this way?
I think a lot of the time (and this isn't research-based. Rather, this is just from my own experiences) people are a little off-mark when it comes to guessing what is wrong with someone and treating it. Often times, people only treat the symptom and not the disease. The more and more I read about abuse, the more this makes sense to me.
Why is it that we want to "protect the children" but we do not do more to protect them from abuse? Why can we not raise more awareness?
It is more common than people think, which is exactly why it shouldn't be a taboo subject.
and all I can think is "fucking duh!"
Here's a couple quick confessions: The first one is that I got a sense of forshortened future that is tied in with my sister's death 8 years ago. This started flaring up after I turned 18--the birthday that she fell short of reaching.
Secondly, the sense of a forshortened future got tied in more of feeling like I won't be successful rather than I will die young, and that sense came from when I began dealing with the aftereffects of emotional abuse. I felt like such a failure in those years that it carried over through high school and I began thinking "What is the point if I'm never going to be successful?". I lost my sense of motivation for a while last year and got it back eventually.. but sometimes it'd fluctuate. One week I'd feel completely optimistic, and the next I just wanted to completely give up. Game over.
Now, onto this article.
"The study, based on a survey of more than 20,000 kids, challenges conventional wisdom that says teens engage in risky behavior because they think they're invulnerable to harm. Instead, a sizable number of teens may take chances "because they feel hopeless and figure that not much is at stake," said study author Dr. Iris Borowsky, a researcher at the University of Minnesota."
Such risky behavior could be things like alcohol abuse and drug use.
Let's consider these statistics though:
Children who have been sexually abused are 2.5 times more likely develop alcohol abuse
Children who have been sexually abused are 3.8 times more likely develop drug addictions
Nearly 2/3’s of the people in treatment for drug abuse reported being abused as children These statistics are compiled from the National Institute on Drug Abuse 2000 Report & Child Abuse & Neglect Study by Arthur Becker-Weidman PhD
http://www.childhelp.org/resources/learning-center/statistics
Also, on that same site:
Abused children are 25% more likely to experience teen pregnancy
Abused teens are 3 times less likely to practice safe sex, putting them at greater risk for STDs
What does this have to do with my sense of forshortened future and this article?
First of all, the article is directly talking about that sense of forshortened future.
A sense of forshortened future is a very common result of abuse, and also considered in the diagnosis of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.
"The individual may have a sense of a foreshortened future (e.g., not expecting to have a career, marriage, children, or a normal life span) (Criterion C7)."
http://www.mental-health-today.com/ptsd/dsm.htm
PTSD arises from traumatic situations, and abuse is pretty damn traumatic.
"Traumatic events that are experienced directly include, but are not limited to, military combat, violent personal assault (sexual assault, physical attack, robbery, mugging), being kidnapped, being taken hostage, terrorist attack, torture, incarceration as a prisoner of war or in a concentration camp, natural or manmade disasters, severe automobile accidents, or being diagnosed with a life-threatening illness. "
Therefore, my hypothesis is that a lot of these teenagers that feel like they're going to die young also have backgrounds of abuse or a traumatic situation.
Therefore, what is the real problem here? A self-fufilling prophecy or why these teens feel this way?
I think a lot of the time (and this isn't research-based. Rather, this is just from my own experiences) people are a little off-mark when it comes to guessing what is wrong with someone and treating it. Often times, people only treat the symptom and not the disease. The more and more I read about abuse, the more this makes sense to me.
Why is it that we want to "protect the children" but we do not do more to protect them from abuse? Why can we not raise more awareness?
It is more common than people think, which is exactly why it shouldn't be a taboo subject.
Friday, June 26, 2009
I really want to see the world
This growing lust to get out of here isn't unbearable yet, but it feels like it's getting there!
Mom and I had a conversation a while back on one of those mornings where we are curled up on the couch with coffee and news playing in the background--just like old times. I told her about how I felt in the weeks leading up to graduation and how I felt after it was over, and we talked about the future and planning... it was quite nice. Before this talk, I felt chained down by the plans I made in high school: go to community college for a couple years, get GPA up, go to university, become an art therapist. That was the choice I figured I'd make and it felt like that is what I'd do for the rest of my life. It felt bleak, even though I love art and psychology and it feels like a wonderful way to mix the two. However, I also want to see the world and travel. I want to make music. There are these intense feelings buried that are starting to surface and I just want to... change my perspective.
Above all, I'm trying to find where I'm from.
My family on my dad's side is primarily German and originates near France (since we also have some French heritage mixed in there). There is also some Cheerokee blood thrown in.
On my mom's side, we come from the Huntleys in Scotland (part of Clan Gordon) as well as Irish, Italian and Yurok tribe here in the States...
Those are the main pieces to my heritage but apparently there are more bits and pieces that come from everywhere. I'll have to check with my grandparents to get the full picture.
Either way, I want to go to all those places, especially Ireland. Every time I see a photo of Ireland, I get the most intense feeling of longing and I just wish I could dive into the photo and stay there. Don't get me wrong--I love America, but something in my soul is desperately seeking to be somewhere different.
Anyway, back to the conversation with mom.
I wasn't sure how to make these traveling dreams come true and so she told me about a friend of hers that made it happen. He wanted to surf around the world so he took up jobs on ships and was able to travel that way while still getting money. He made his dreams happen just like that!
In this conversation, she also talked to me about doing whatever I love and what makes me happy. She said "Look at me, I am an assistant manager at Blockbuster but I don't mind it. I love my job, even with all the stupid people that come into the store.". That is when I realized that I really CAN try out all sorts of different things and do something else if I stop being happy with it. Nothing is really holding me back here.
She said 'You want to travel? Get a job on a cruise ship. I mean, there are lots of things you can do to make it happen."
So where am I now with all this? Inspired, for one. Secondly, I don't know where I'm going to start but I know taking up oppertunities is part of it. I'm still going ahead with my college plans but if I find that it isn't my thing, then I'll finish up the semester and just stop. I can still do things without it--it doesn't mean I'm an idiot if I don't go to college. I've finally realized that.
Mom and I had a conversation a while back on one of those mornings where we are curled up on the couch with coffee and news playing in the background--just like old times. I told her about how I felt in the weeks leading up to graduation and how I felt after it was over, and we talked about the future and planning... it was quite nice. Before this talk, I felt chained down by the plans I made in high school: go to community college for a couple years, get GPA up, go to university, become an art therapist. That was the choice I figured I'd make and it felt like that is what I'd do for the rest of my life. It felt bleak, even though I love art and psychology and it feels like a wonderful way to mix the two. However, I also want to see the world and travel. I want to make music. There are these intense feelings buried that are starting to surface and I just want to... change my perspective.
Above all, I'm trying to find where I'm from.
My family on my dad's side is primarily German and originates near France (since we also have some French heritage mixed in there). There is also some Cheerokee blood thrown in.
On my mom's side, we come from the Huntleys in Scotland (part of Clan Gordon) as well as Irish, Italian and Yurok tribe here in the States...
Those are the main pieces to my heritage but apparently there are more bits and pieces that come from everywhere. I'll have to check with my grandparents to get the full picture.
Either way, I want to go to all those places, especially Ireland. Every time I see a photo of Ireland, I get the most intense feeling of longing and I just wish I could dive into the photo and stay there. Don't get me wrong--I love America, but something in my soul is desperately seeking to be somewhere different.
Anyway, back to the conversation with mom.
I wasn't sure how to make these traveling dreams come true and so she told me about a friend of hers that made it happen. He wanted to surf around the world so he took up jobs on ships and was able to travel that way while still getting money. He made his dreams happen just like that!
In this conversation, she also talked to me about doing whatever I love and what makes me happy. She said "Look at me, I am an assistant manager at Blockbuster but I don't mind it. I love my job, even with all the stupid people that come into the store.". That is when I realized that I really CAN try out all sorts of different things and do something else if I stop being happy with it. Nothing is really holding me back here.
She said 'You want to travel? Get a job on a cruise ship. I mean, there are lots of things you can do to make it happen."
So where am I now with all this? Inspired, for one. Secondly, I don't know where I'm going to start but I know taking up oppertunities is part of it. I'm still going ahead with my college plans but if I find that it isn't my thing, then I'll finish up the semester and just stop. I can still do things without it--it doesn't mean I'm an idiot if I don't go to college. I've finally realized that.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Tomorrow
EDIT: the text colors got a bit screwed up, sorry about that.
Tomorrow is the day that I go down to the school office to get my diploma. Tomorrow I am also going to look at a local community college site to make some sense of it. Tomorrow night I am going down to a friend's house to spend the night and maybe we'll study for the driver's test.
Tomorrow is the 8th of June.
Around this time four years ago, I was with my first boyfriend in a short-lived relationship. 9th grade was ending soon and live-action roleplay plans were being made in my circle of friends for the summer. It was still a pretty damn innocent time despite the drama.
The 8th of June came along and my life changed forever. Sheesh, forever is a big word but I cannot deny that it had pushed me to a limit I didn't think possible, and that out of this, I could gain some sort of compassion.
The short way to say what it was is that a hand was on my leg and heading up somewhere where it shouldn't, and I suppose that if it had gone farther, the legal terminology for what happened would be sexual battery rather than harassment but it never did make it that far. I've seen fellow students do this sort of thing in that game called "Nervous". They'd move their hands up very slowly and then stop, each time asking the reciever "Are you nervous?". If the touchee answered with "no", then the other player's hand moves up even farther. They stop if the touchee finally answers with "yes". The thing is, this was no game of nervous on account of the fact that he just sat down next to me one day (rather than on the other side of the table), and his hand was moving up.
In memory, this moment feels like it lasted ages when it couldn't have been more than a few seconds. I jumped--completely caught off guard--and shrieked "Oh my god!". The hand disappeared, and I slugged his shoulder.
One of my friends later remarked about this guy being my boyfriend, but in a sort of joking tone. It makes me wonder if she saw what happened.
Now, this is a small moment in time that wouldn't bother a lot of people. However, it bothered me a lot. This was something that no one had ever done to me before and I didn't know how to describe what happened or how I felt about it afterwards. I couldn't put it into words. Therefore, the experience kinda stayed drifting in my mind.
I remember about two days after it happened, he sat next to me again to watch the band on stage in the cafeteria and all the nerves in my body stood on end. I completely froze and fixated on a spot in front of me so that way I wouldn't be able to see him, but he was still a blur in the corner of my vision. Anytime he even moved a little bit, I'd tense up even more in thinking that he'd touch me again. This lasted for a few minutes before he got up and left.
I ignored him when he asked me to sign his yearbook the following week.
The school year ended and the experience would drift into my mind now and then, much to my confusion. It got to the point where it was like I could feel the touch on my leg still and it'd keep me from sleeping. Everyday I'd ask myself "Why the fuck can I not get over this? It was nothing."
The next school year was filled with lots of anxiety, red-hot rage, fear, and a whole mixture of other things and I was battling with these feelings every time I stepped into the school. I saw him every day (which suprised me on the first day of school because we were at a small school rather than the very large main one, and I had assumed he'd go there). A different harassment experience came in November, but thankfully it was just verbal.
Nonetheless, I was jumpy the whole school year and started experiencing panic symptoms. I had some nightmares where he'd be finding me to hurt me, or he had already done so and would do it again. He became sort of demonized in my mind, which is a mindset that I'm still letting go.
The verbal experience was reported to the counselor in February of 2006, but I had never reported the first one. Why? First, it happened at a different school. Secondly, it took me months to figure out that it was sexual harassment, and by then reporting it would have done nothing. Even with the report made in '06 (with a friend who had also been sexually harassed), nothing happened except someone talking to him. No detention or suspension. I guess because most of the experiences combined were verbal, but if I can recall correctly, my friend described how he seemed touchy-feely to her as well.
I began trying to work on healing, but would also dig my fingernails into my hands when my panic rose. Concentration in class was very difficult. I was extremely hateful of myself for not "getting over it" because the experience was so small.
Yes. I still see it as a small experience but I cannot deny the effect it had on me.
There is a quote by Tori Amos that describes a lesson I learned from all of this perfectly:
""I have never had as much respect for life as I do now. I listen more closely to my friends than I used to. If someone is in pain, I hear it in a different way. I'm more susceptible to it now. Sometimes people tell me, when they hear I had a miscarry: 'O, that's nothing. Someone losing a two year old child, that's terrible'. Then I think: OK. But I can think of seventy other things you could have said. You don't have to belittle other people, just because you can't put yourself in someone else's shoes. Everyone experiences things differently. And pain shouldn't be a competition, like: you were raped seven times, but I was raped seventy times! Maybe someone was only harassed by a man in the park, but that affected that person in a certain way. That should still be enough?"
-Tori Amos"
Even my mom understood the effect that the 8th of June had on me even though she is a survivor of multiple horrors--all of which are more terrible than I could imagine.
The summer after 10th grade was spent on fixing the parts of me that were damaged and I entered 11th grade with more knowledge of myself and terms that I could use to describe the harassment. One friend gave me the word "traumatic". After looking at traumatic stress symptoms (NOT full blown PTSD), it was clear that I experienced a lot of them. I had the intrusive thoughts, a few nightmares, hypervigilance every day at school, symptoms similar to panic attack episodes (but I have now realized that these were not full blown panic attacks)... most of these faded considerably by the time 11th grade started. I was still dealing with some triggers and the hypervigilance (he was in one of my classes), but I was able to focus more and a passion for abnormal psychology formed. Even then, someone who was a friend was bothering me a lot this year with some verbal harassment that seemed to have filtered off as the year ended.
12th grade was damn stressful too, but only because I was trying to catch up and raise awareness on sexual assault for my senior project--the idea being inspired by all the research I did as well as experiences of friends and family members.
Even with my desire to raise awareness at school, I couldn't ignore the term "rape culture". When a friend tries to joke with you by saying in a completely serious tone "If I didn't take no for an answer, I would have raped you a long time ago" even though you're trying to end harassment of that nature, then you have come to realize what a difficult task is ahead of you.
I still wonder what he was thinking in saying that and why he though that would make a good joke.
Where am I now, though?
The small event on the 8th of June four years ago brought me here, wherever "here" is. I still want to be involved in abnormal psychology, and maybe specialize in trauma survivors. Art has always been a big part of my life and it became a sort of lifeline when I was trying to get the ugly feelings out. I want to help others experience the joy of art while working through their own pain.
So, in a weird way, I am glad that all that shit happened because I would not have this desire to help others through art. All of the bad feelings that came about after everything are almost gone completely (though summertime temperatures are still a small trigger, but it's easily managed), and the guy grew out of how he acted it seemed. I see those experiences now as more of a sign of immaturity rather than out of a desire to cause harm or create a hostile environment. He's clearly moved on with his life and I have too.
It's weird to think about it all now though because the effects are gone. I don't need to speak out about it. I do anyway though, but more to share rather than to get pain out.
Now, for some handy links.
http://www.sexualharassmentsupport.org/ - This site helped me a great deal when I began struggling to understand what happened, and I even contributed a little to the site a few years ago. You can see old artwork of mine in the gallery under the name "Lacunerainchild" and my story was posted way back when under the name "Mac".
http://www.rainn.org - The Rape, Abuse, and Incest National Network helped me a lot in understanding how these experiences can affect the victim. I have never been raped or molested (unless you count the first experience as molestation, but I do not), but I do know several people who have and so this also helped me understand how to help them a little more. I hope to volunteer for the Online Hotline this summer.
http://www.pandys.org - Pandora's Project is an absolutely wonderful resource and community for survivors as well as friends+family of survivors. I joined the forums ages ago under the name "JustAMelody". I don't post there as often anymore. Nonetheless, everyone on this site is amazing and most helpful, and I DEFINITELY recommend this site for healing.
http://www.welcometobarbados.org - Welcome to Barbados is one of the first survivor sites on the internet and is linked with Pandora's Project. Shannon, the creator of this site, used her pain to create one of the most helpful sites for anyone on the web and has come so far in her own healing. I used this site a lot in researching and understanding, and it is how I found the Pandy's forums.
http://www.feministing.com - Feministing isn't a purely sexual-assault related website, but they do make posts about the current issues surrounding sexual violence and justice to victims and has plenty of thought-provoking articles. This is good for finding out news in the feminist community.
Tomorrow is the day that I go down to the school office to get my diploma. Tomorrow I am also going to look at a local community college site to make some sense of it. Tomorrow night I am going down to a friend's house to spend the night and maybe we'll study for the driver's test.
Tomorrow is the 8th of June.
Around this time four years ago, I was with my first boyfriend in a short-lived relationship. 9th grade was ending soon and live-action roleplay plans were being made in my circle of friends for the summer. It was still a pretty damn innocent time despite the drama.
The 8th of June came along and my life changed forever. Sheesh, forever is a big word but I cannot deny that it had pushed me to a limit I didn't think possible, and that out of this, I could gain some sort of compassion.
The short way to say what it was is that a hand was on my leg and heading up somewhere where it shouldn't, and I suppose that if it had gone farther, the legal terminology for what happened would be sexual battery rather than harassment but it never did make it that far. I've seen fellow students do this sort of thing in that game called "Nervous". They'd move their hands up very slowly and then stop, each time asking the reciever "Are you nervous?". If the touchee answered with "no", then the other player's hand moves up even farther. They stop if the touchee finally answers with "yes". The thing is, this was no game of nervous on account of the fact that he just sat down next to me one day (rather than on the other side of the table), and his hand was moving up.
In memory, this moment feels like it lasted ages when it couldn't have been more than a few seconds. I jumped--completely caught off guard--and shrieked "Oh my god!". The hand disappeared, and I slugged his shoulder.
One of my friends later remarked about this guy being my boyfriend, but in a sort of joking tone. It makes me wonder if she saw what happened.
Now, this is a small moment in time that wouldn't bother a lot of people. However, it bothered me a lot. This was something that no one had ever done to me before and I didn't know how to describe what happened or how I felt about it afterwards. I couldn't put it into words. Therefore, the experience kinda stayed drifting in my mind.
I remember about two days after it happened, he sat next to me again to watch the band on stage in the cafeteria and all the nerves in my body stood on end. I completely froze and fixated on a spot in front of me so that way I wouldn't be able to see him, but he was still a blur in the corner of my vision. Anytime he even moved a little bit, I'd tense up even more in thinking that he'd touch me again. This lasted for a few minutes before he got up and left.
I ignored him when he asked me to sign his yearbook the following week.
The school year ended and the experience would drift into my mind now and then, much to my confusion. It got to the point where it was like I could feel the touch on my leg still and it'd keep me from sleeping. Everyday I'd ask myself "Why the fuck can I not get over this? It was nothing."
The next school year was filled with lots of anxiety, red-hot rage, fear, and a whole mixture of other things and I was battling with these feelings every time I stepped into the school. I saw him every day (which suprised me on the first day of school because we were at a small school rather than the very large main one, and I had assumed he'd go there). A different harassment experience came in November, but thankfully it was just verbal.
Nonetheless, I was jumpy the whole school year and started experiencing panic symptoms. I had some nightmares where he'd be finding me to hurt me, or he had already done so and would do it again. He became sort of demonized in my mind, which is a mindset that I'm still letting go.
The verbal experience was reported to the counselor in February of 2006, but I had never reported the first one. Why? First, it happened at a different school. Secondly, it took me months to figure out that it was sexual harassment, and by then reporting it would have done nothing. Even with the report made in '06 (with a friend who had also been sexually harassed), nothing happened except someone talking to him. No detention or suspension. I guess because most of the experiences combined were verbal, but if I can recall correctly, my friend described how he seemed touchy-feely to her as well.
I began trying to work on healing, but would also dig my fingernails into my hands when my panic rose. Concentration in class was very difficult. I was extremely hateful of myself for not "getting over it" because the experience was so small.
Yes. I still see it as a small experience but I cannot deny the effect it had on me.
There is a quote by Tori Amos that describes a lesson I learned from all of this perfectly:
""I have never had as much respect for life as I do now. I listen more closely to my friends than I used to. If someone is in pain, I hear it in a different way. I'm more susceptible to it now. Sometimes people tell me, when they hear I had a miscarry: 'O, that's nothing. Someone losing a two year old child, that's terrible'. Then I think: OK. But I can think of seventy other things you could have said. You don't have to belittle other people, just because you can't put yourself in someone else's shoes. Everyone experiences things differently. And pain shouldn't be a competition, like: you were raped seven times, but I was raped seventy times! Maybe someone was only harassed by a man in the park, but that affected that person in a certain way. That should still be enough?"
-Tori Amos"
Even my mom understood the effect that the 8th of June had on me even though she is a survivor of multiple horrors--all of which are more terrible than I could imagine.
The summer after 10th grade was spent on fixing the parts of me that were damaged and I entered 11th grade with more knowledge of myself and terms that I could use to describe the harassment. One friend gave me the word "traumatic". After looking at traumatic stress symptoms (NOT full blown PTSD), it was clear that I experienced a lot of them. I had the intrusive thoughts, a few nightmares, hypervigilance every day at school, symptoms similar to panic attack episodes (but I have now realized that these were not full blown panic attacks)... most of these faded considerably by the time 11th grade started. I was still dealing with some triggers and the hypervigilance (he was in one of my classes), but I was able to focus more and a passion for abnormal psychology formed. Even then, someone who was a friend was bothering me a lot this year with some verbal harassment that seemed to have filtered off as the year ended.
12th grade was damn stressful too, but only because I was trying to catch up and raise awareness on sexual assault for my senior project--the idea being inspired by all the research I did as well as experiences of friends and family members.
Even with my desire to raise awareness at school, I couldn't ignore the term "rape culture". When a friend tries to joke with you by saying in a completely serious tone "If I didn't take no for an answer, I would have raped you a long time ago" even though you're trying to end harassment of that nature, then you have come to realize what a difficult task is ahead of you.
I still wonder what he was thinking in saying that and why he though that would make a good joke.
Where am I now, though?
The small event on the 8th of June four years ago brought me here, wherever "here" is. I still want to be involved in abnormal psychology, and maybe specialize in trauma survivors. Art has always been a big part of my life and it became a sort of lifeline when I was trying to get the ugly feelings out. I want to help others experience the joy of art while working through their own pain.
So, in a weird way, I am glad that all that shit happened because I would not have this desire to help others through art. All of the bad feelings that came about after everything are almost gone completely (though summertime temperatures are still a small trigger, but it's easily managed), and the guy grew out of how he acted it seemed. I see those experiences now as more of a sign of immaturity rather than out of a desire to cause harm or create a hostile environment. He's clearly moved on with his life and I have too.
It's weird to think about it all now though because the effects are gone. I don't need to speak out about it. I do anyway though, but more to share rather than to get pain out.
Now, for some handy links.
http://www.sexualharassmentsupport.org/ - This site helped me a great deal when I began struggling to understand what happened, and I even contributed a little to the site a few years ago. You can see old artwork of mine in the gallery under the name "Lacunerainchild" and my story was posted way back when under the name "Mac".
http://www.rainn.org - The Rape, Abuse, and Incest National Network helped me a lot in understanding how these experiences can affect the victim. I have never been raped or molested (unless you count the first experience as molestation, but I do not), but I do know several people who have and so this also helped me understand how to help them a little more. I hope to volunteer for the Online Hotline this summer.
http://www.pandys.org - Pandora's Project is an absolutely wonderful resource and community for survivors as well as friends+family of survivors. I joined the forums ages ago under the name "JustAMelody". I don't post there as often anymore. Nonetheless, everyone on this site is amazing and most helpful, and I DEFINITELY recommend this site for healing.
http://www.welcometobarbados.org - Welcome to Barbados is one of the first survivor sites on the internet and is linked with Pandora's Project. Shannon, the creator of this site, used her pain to create one of the most helpful sites for anyone on the web and has come so far in her own healing. I used this site a lot in researching and understanding, and it is how I found the Pandy's forums.
http://www.feministing.com - Feministing isn't a purely sexual-assault related website, but they do make posts about the current issues surrounding sexual violence and justice to victims and has plenty of thought-provoking articles. This is good for finding out news in the feminist community.
Introduction
Disclaimer: Everything here is from my point of view, obviously. I'm biased. Everyone has a bias. All I am doing here is speaking honestly about how I felt from these experiences though the people involved would obviously have different views and feelings towards them.
June 5th, 2009 was my high school graduation day. The moment I turned the tassel, a bizarre feeling flooded me and it combined with the intense screaming of the crowd and the adrenaline from the entire damn evening. It didn't hit me that high school was over until sometime past 4 in the morning and I cried for... something. At first, I was crying out of relief because the past five years have pushed and pulled me in every goddamn direction that I could have gone in, but then I started crying because I began to notice everything that brought me to that point and how I got out of it all.
If I had to chose one single event that changed my life forever, it is Nicole's death. Hands down.
Nicole is my sister, and she was older than me by 7 years. She was diagnosed with rhabdomyosarcoma as a teenager and was in a battle for about 2 years. Dad shaved her head before chemo could claim her hair, and it had to be him to do it. Nicole went on to describe this experience by saying that mom "has some sort of emotional attachment to my hair, and Skruffie can't do it because she's Skruffie..." Skruffie was the nickname given to me due to coming home from school every day with holes in the knees of my jeans and my hair in complete disarray. I'd have sand in my shoes and grassstains everywhere, and rocks in my pockets from a compulsive rock-collecting habit that carried on for several years.
Anyway.
Nicole passed away on April 30th, 2001 (AKA "the worst day of my life"), which is also two days before she was going to turn 18. I was 11.
This event... though it has been over 8 years, it is very much part of who I am and how others have interacted with me in the past. I started middle school in September of the same year she died, and continued on through the rest of middle school afterwards: 7th and 8th.
My lack of memories is a sorce of frustration for me.
There are some snippets, like the puberty video and pep rallies. I remember running the mile every week in California heat (though if the days were too hot, they allowed us to run in the gym).
I remember my 7th grade social studies teacher saying "You can't use [Nicole's death] as an excuse forever." I was failing.
I remember my 8th grade history teacher asking me why I do not have any paper out for the assignment we were about to start. The class was already quiet to begin with and, if I can remember correctly, I might have tried asking for paper from a student or I didn't so I wouldn't disturb people.
I told him "I don't have any paper left."
A sneer crossed his face as he remarked in a very quiet voice "Tch, figures", before starting the lesson.
This next memory, for some reason, isn't as painful as the first two here but it was certainly humiliating. Now, I always remembered this as being in 6th grade but the assignment we had to turn in places this in 8th grade. This was near the beginning of the school year and we had to do a sketch of a mug that we were going to make out of clay. It was a huge project complete with learning about glazes and the kiln, and if we passed, we were able to move on to the pottery wheels.
A quick interjection though: I had shitty grades in 6th grade because I was still swarmed with grief.
I had shitty grades in 7th grade because I was swarmed with grief.
I had shitty grades in 8th grade because the teachers gave up on me and I gave up on them. It felt like they branded me forever as a failure so I gave up. I would either not turn in assignments at all or procrastinate until the last moment, and there came a certain point where I was only going to school to see my friends and buy a teeny Little Ceasar's pizza thing.
The sketch for this project suffered from procrastination and I ended up doing it in pen (mistake #1) and on lined paper (mistake #2). If I at least had a pencil, then maybe it would have been a bit better.
Well, the time came for us to turn in our sketches and my teacher grabbed mine and held it up to the class as a prime example of what not to do. I can't remember if he used the term "garbage" or not. Maybe he said "This is UNACCEPTABLE!". The paper was crinkled from him gripping it so hard and I tried to smooth it out when he gave it back to me. At least he apologized, but the absolute fucking humiliation of that might have set more of the tone of how I felt when I didn't turn in assignments in the future.
The last traumatic memory from this period is on the last day of middle school. To give more of a backstory to this, remember me saying that the teachers seemed to have given up on me so I gave up on them. The way I saw teachers for many years after middle school were as horrible people who didn't really care about the students, and people you cannot trust for anything. They will not give emotional support. They will yell and humiliate you. They will stigimize you.
Stigmitized.
That is how I felt after they decalred that I was to repeat the 8th grade. "Good students succeed in life. Bad students are like bad people. This school prides itself on good grades and we cannot put our energies into fixing the bad people, so we praise the good and get awared the Distinguished School Award for our efforts." (not a real quote, but that describes the attitude of the school faculty from my perspective perfectly)
The assistant principal pulled me into her office just as the first period bell rang (why couldn't she talk to me in the 15 minutes I was already in the library?) and said that I have 6 Fs (already knew that, but constantly hearing it made it worse and worse. It didn't motivate me.) and that I would be retained in 8th grade. My response to that was to inform her that my family and I were moving out of California to Washington and she didn't have a response to that. Even if I was to repeat 8th grade, it would certainly not be another traumatic year in that place. I think that if I had to stay in that school for one more year, I would have come out a lot worse than I had.
As it turns out, mom proved to the washington schools that I was smart enough to be in 9th grade by showing them my sylvan learning center scores. I didn't repeat 8th grade.
The damage showed and I had a repeat performance of 8th grade, bascially, but with teachers that weren't borderline abusive. It amazes me that I didn't get held back in 9th grade now that I look back on it because the "teachers don't care" attitude held on and I was absolutely unmotivated to do anything.
Hilariously though, I repeated 12th grade because the damage from not doing a lot of work in 9th grade reared it's ugly head and I lacked a few credits even though I really began to pick up the pace in the last couple of years in high school. 10th grade was a very harsh year too but for entirely different reasons I'll go into later.
So, that is the story of how school was a thorn in my side.
Thankfully I met teachers in high school that completely changed my view and I began to fully trust them in my first round of 12th grade--4 years after middle school ended. That is 4 years too many.
I completed 12th grade in a work-at-home sort of program where I'd check in once a week to turn in work but hit a rough patch around October. I felt unmotivated once again and thinking "Why bother? I'm a failure anyway." and I felt like such a fucking fool for repeating 12th grade. I felt like the middle school faculty "won".
As it turns out, the year of graduation doesn't fucking matter anyway. I graduated on June 5th and it finally hit me that I was free and that I got out of everything. I sobbed for about 10 minutes before a wonderful feeling of peace came over me as I looked over past assignments and said "I can burn it all."
No, I won't burn it though. I think I'll shred it or stuff it in a recycle bag, then send it off so all that paper could be renewed--like me.
Wow, that is a hefty intro post but all of this really shaped who I am right now and maybe who I will be in the future. More little things like interests and hobbies should come clear in future posts.
June 5th, 2009 was my high school graduation day. The moment I turned the tassel, a bizarre feeling flooded me and it combined with the intense screaming of the crowd and the adrenaline from the entire damn evening. It didn't hit me that high school was over until sometime past 4 in the morning and I cried for... something. At first, I was crying out of relief because the past five years have pushed and pulled me in every goddamn direction that I could have gone in, but then I started crying because I began to notice everything that brought me to that point and how I got out of it all.
If I had to chose one single event that changed my life forever, it is Nicole's death. Hands down.
Nicole is my sister, and she was older than me by 7 years. She was diagnosed with rhabdomyosarcoma as a teenager and was in a battle for about 2 years. Dad shaved her head before chemo could claim her hair, and it had to be him to do it. Nicole went on to describe this experience by saying that mom "has some sort of emotional attachment to my hair, and Skruffie can't do it because she's Skruffie..." Skruffie was the nickname given to me due to coming home from school every day with holes in the knees of my jeans and my hair in complete disarray. I'd have sand in my shoes and grassstains everywhere, and rocks in my pockets from a compulsive rock-collecting habit that carried on for several years.
Anyway.
Nicole passed away on April 30th, 2001 (AKA "the worst day of my life"), which is also two days before she was going to turn 18. I was 11.
This event... though it has been over 8 years, it is very much part of who I am and how others have interacted with me in the past. I started middle school in September of the same year she died, and continued on through the rest of middle school afterwards: 7th and 8th.
My lack of memories is a sorce of frustration for me.
There are some snippets, like the puberty video and pep rallies. I remember running the mile every week in California heat (though if the days were too hot, they allowed us to run in the gym).
I remember my 7th grade social studies teacher saying "You can't use [Nicole's death] as an excuse forever." I was failing.
I remember my 8th grade history teacher asking me why I do not have any paper out for the assignment we were about to start. The class was already quiet to begin with and, if I can remember correctly, I might have tried asking for paper from a student or I didn't so I wouldn't disturb people.
I told him "I don't have any paper left."
A sneer crossed his face as he remarked in a very quiet voice "Tch, figures", before starting the lesson.
This next memory, for some reason, isn't as painful as the first two here but it was certainly humiliating. Now, I always remembered this as being in 6th grade but the assignment we had to turn in places this in 8th grade. This was near the beginning of the school year and we had to do a sketch of a mug that we were going to make out of clay. It was a huge project complete with learning about glazes and the kiln, and if we passed, we were able to move on to the pottery wheels.
A quick interjection though: I had shitty grades in 6th grade because I was still swarmed with grief.
I had shitty grades in 7th grade because I was swarmed with grief.
I had shitty grades in 8th grade because the teachers gave up on me and I gave up on them. It felt like they branded me forever as a failure so I gave up. I would either not turn in assignments at all or procrastinate until the last moment, and there came a certain point where I was only going to school to see my friends and buy a teeny Little Ceasar's pizza thing.
The sketch for this project suffered from procrastination and I ended up doing it in pen (mistake #1) and on lined paper (mistake #2). If I at least had a pencil, then maybe it would have been a bit better.
Well, the time came for us to turn in our sketches and my teacher grabbed mine and held it up to the class as a prime example of what not to do. I can't remember if he used the term "garbage" or not. Maybe he said "This is UNACCEPTABLE!". The paper was crinkled from him gripping it so hard and I tried to smooth it out when he gave it back to me. At least he apologized, but the absolute fucking humiliation of that might have set more of the tone of how I felt when I didn't turn in assignments in the future.
The last traumatic memory from this period is on the last day of middle school. To give more of a backstory to this, remember me saying that the teachers seemed to have given up on me so I gave up on them. The way I saw teachers for many years after middle school were as horrible people who didn't really care about the students, and people you cannot trust for anything. They will not give emotional support. They will yell and humiliate you. They will stigimize you.
Stigmitized.
That is how I felt after they decalred that I was to repeat the 8th grade. "Good students succeed in life. Bad students are like bad people. This school prides itself on good grades and we cannot put our energies into fixing the bad people, so we praise the good and get awared the Distinguished School Award for our efforts." (not a real quote, but that describes the attitude of the school faculty from my perspective perfectly)
The assistant principal pulled me into her office just as the first period bell rang (why couldn't she talk to me in the 15 minutes I was already in the library?) and said that I have 6 Fs (already knew that, but constantly hearing it made it worse and worse. It didn't motivate me.) and that I would be retained in 8th grade. My response to that was to inform her that my family and I were moving out of California to Washington and she didn't have a response to that. Even if I was to repeat 8th grade, it would certainly not be another traumatic year in that place. I think that if I had to stay in that school for one more year, I would have come out a lot worse than I had.
As it turns out, mom proved to the washington schools that I was smart enough to be in 9th grade by showing them my sylvan learning center scores. I didn't repeat 8th grade.
The damage showed and I had a repeat performance of 8th grade, bascially, but with teachers that weren't borderline abusive. It amazes me that I didn't get held back in 9th grade now that I look back on it because the "teachers don't care" attitude held on and I was absolutely unmotivated to do anything.
Hilariously though, I repeated 12th grade because the damage from not doing a lot of work in 9th grade reared it's ugly head and I lacked a few credits even though I really began to pick up the pace in the last couple of years in high school. 10th grade was a very harsh year too but for entirely different reasons I'll go into later.
So, that is the story of how school was a thorn in my side.
Thankfully I met teachers in high school that completely changed my view and I began to fully trust them in my first round of 12th grade--4 years after middle school ended. That is 4 years too many.
I completed 12th grade in a work-at-home sort of program where I'd check in once a week to turn in work but hit a rough patch around October. I felt unmotivated once again and thinking "Why bother? I'm a failure anyway." and I felt like such a fucking fool for repeating 12th grade. I felt like the middle school faculty "won".
As it turns out, the year of graduation doesn't fucking matter anyway. I graduated on June 5th and it finally hit me that I was free and that I got out of everything. I sobbed for about 10 minutes before a wonderful feeling of peace came over me as I looked over past assignments and said "I can burn it all."
No, I won't burn it though. I think I'll shred it or stuff it in a recycle bag, then send it off so all that paper could be renewed--like me.
Wow, that is a hefty intro post but all of this really shaped who I am right now and maybe who I will be in the future. More little things like interests and hobbies should come clear in future posts.
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