Monday, 25 July 2011
Not all those who wander are lost
Listening to a song today I realized I'm going to embrace my lonerness. I always thought of it as something that disabled me. That secluded me. That made me feel like I don't fit. That I would eventually learn to adapt and transform and become like all the social butterfly girls I see everyday. But for some reason listening to this beautiful, just beautiful husky song that swayed me even in my seat, I realized I will never fit. I will never be "normal". I will never trade personality for clothes. I will never trade soul for popularity. I will never trade my inner geek for being flawless. I will be a loner. Music and the way it empowers me, makes me feel, makes me dance and bounce in a public place, has given me the confidence to rock being a loner. I must overcome my bullshit fear of not looking good or appearing collected and just be happy being lost. Happy being a wanderer. Because not all those who wander are lost.
Monday, 11 July 2011
Beg to Differ
Came across the quote "life sucks and then you die."
I beg to differ. Life doesn't suck. I do :P
I beg to differ. Life doesn't suck. I do :P
Friday, 1 July 2011
Confidence Disorder
It official. I am diagnosed with confidence disorder. It doesn't sound as life threatening or terrifying as cancer or epelepsy but I can assure you my disorder fucking disables me. Growing up I was the youngest of four kids. Right there fucked me up. I was always tailing after them, awkward and impressionable I wanted to be popular and included. But I was years behind all of them so I spent most of time watching from the sidelines while my brother and his skater friends did stunts, or being told by my older sisters and their girlfriends to piss off while I tried listen to their gossip. It was hard because I liked people but I wasn't very social. I didn't like boys or taking sides in fights or plastic toys like most girls did. I liked making bug farms in empty jam jars or reading books about fantasy worlds. Needless to say I was a bit of a loner. I did socialize and I did have my school buddies or the neighbourhood pals to screw around with firecrackers with or fuck someones yard up when the mood hit, but other than that I was alone. So I never started or build much self confidence around friends, or even around people in general.
I was also bullied in middle school. I had originally went to this sweet little elementary school in small town where it was okay to not wear makeup and wear the same puppy dog t-shirt everyday. But then we moved and I had to go to public school downtown. It was huge. I went from a place with 300 students for the whole building, to 900 students in only 3 grades. Girls here were scary. They were tall, skinny to the bone, had long perfect straight hair, and they had clothes that would make even a stripper shocked. Thongs hung high above jeans, boobs hung low out of tank tops 3 sizes too small for them. Instead of learning about the importance of character, loyalty, friends, I had to learn the importance of Roxy, lululemon, and Dorina's. It was a cultural shock that literally broke me.
I'll never forget I came to the first gym class in grade 6 and they were all sitting there as I was introduced. I noticed a few of those perfect girls staring and whispering together as their eyes raked down my shrimpy body. I knew what they looking at. My legs. I hadn't learned to shave yet and my sister always teased me, calling me "Christopher" because I had such hairy man legs. But I didn't care then, I was happy to run around and be careless about those pedicure girl things. Until that moment. After an hour of whispering and giggles I came home crying and begged my air head mother to show me how to use a razor.
I learned to survive middle school. But surviving isn't about developing. I made friends with the other weirdos and unclassifieds and we gave eachother strength, but not enough to be fearless. So again my confidence, my assurance in myself wasn't growing.
My mother wasn't much help either. She wasn't the type of person who could handle kids, physically or emotionally. I had to take care of myself, feed myself, make sure the house was okay, that my homework was done. Because my mother wasn't there for any of it. I used to leave for days on end to stay at a friends house, and come back and my mother wouldn't even have noticed I was gone. When I was being bullied by a particular girl at school I used to come home crying and tell my mother how much I hurt, and she would tell me to just get tough and get over it. When all I wanted was some support, some love, maybe even just for her to tell me things will get better, all she could say to me was "Stop being such a baby." Fuck it hurt me growing up with her. She stripped me of any kind of emotional backbone a parent is supposed to help build.
So I came to live with my dad. He was better in ways. He at least put food in the fridge. But I noticed his attack was more subtle. He was never pleased with me. If I got straight A's on my report card he'd shrug. If I vacummed the house, he's fit a spot and then make me do it all again. And all I heard from the family was things he complained about me behind my back. My Grandpa would ask why I wasn't working 2 jobs instead of one only a day after I quit, my siblings would ask why I wasn't cleaning up enough if I didn't do the dishes one night. Nothing I did was enough. And I was never even seen compared to his other star children. I would never be as pretty as the eldest, or as talented as the brother, or as devoted and godliest as my sister. I was never anything more than "the baby". My self esteem, shrunk to the size of a golf ball.
Why am I saying all this? Because at this time I'm trying to figure out a career. A job. Something to study in college. But I can't decide. I'm afraid. Terrified. And so confused about myself that I can't figure out what I want. I'm so screwed up I don't even trust my own thoughts. I have no confidence or boldness to just make a decision and stick to it. To trust myself to know what I want. Where does that leave me?
When I was eight I used to look for caterpillars around my yard. When I'd find one I'd get one of my mothers pickle jars and cut small holes in the lid. I'd put grass and twigs and make a little green habitat for the caterpillar to live in. I'd watch it eat, and sleep, and even make itself into a caccoon all in room. And like clockwork I'd wait all year for it to emerge into a butterfly in the pickle jar, and like an alarm I'd forget to hide it and my mother would (in her random raids) come into my room and throw it away. I never got to see the butterflies. She stole that from me.
One year though I was extra careful. And I finally came home to a beautiful gold butterfly where there had only been a brown sack before. I took the jar outside and released her. I wanted to set her free, to watch her fly away. But the funny was she didn't fly away, she didn't even leave. She just sat in the glass, stupid and scared to even come out. Thinking about it now I wonder, is that me? Too conditioned to destructive people, to a destructive enviroment? Contained in glass of doubt that even when I have to the chance to break free I don't take it? Will I ever fly? Or am I still in a cacoon.
I was also bullied in middle school. I had originally went to this sweet little elementary school in small town where it was okay to not wear makeup and wear the same puppy dog t-shirt everyday. But then we moved and I had to go to public school downtown. It was huge. I went from a place with 300 students for the whole building, to 900 students in only 3 grades. Girls here were scary. They were tall, skinny to the bone, had long perfect straight hair, and they had clothes that would make even a stripper shocked. Thongs hung high above jeans, boobs hung low out of tank tops 3 sizes too small for them. Instead of learning about the importance of character, loyalty, friends, I had to learn the importance of Roxy, lululemon, and Dorina's. It was a cultural shock that literally broke me.
I'll never forget I came to the first gym class in grade 6 and they were all sitting there as I was introduced. I noticed a few of those perfect girls staring and whispering together as their eyes raked down my shrimpy body. I knew what they looking at. My legs. I hadn't learned to shave yet and my sister always teased me, calling me "Christopher" because I had such hairy man legs. But I didn't care then, I was happy to run around and be careless about those pedicure girl things. Until that moment. After an hour of whispering and giggles I came home crying and begged my air head mother to show me how to use a razor.
I learned to survive middle school. But surviving isn't about developing. I made friends with the other weirdos and unclassifieds and we gave eachother strength, but not enough to be fearless. So again my confidence, my assurance in myself wasn't growing.
My mother wasn't much help either. She wasn't the type of person who could handle kids, physically or emotionally. I had to take care of myself, feed myself, make sure the house was okay, that my homework was done. Because my mother wasn't there for any of it. I used to leave for days on end to stay at a friends house, and come back and my mother wouldn't even have noticed I was gone. When I was being bullied by a particular girl at school I used to come home crying and tell my mother how much I hurt, and she would tell me to just get tough and get over it. When all I wanted was some support, some love, maybe even just for her to tell me things will get better, all she could say to me was "Stop being such a baby." Fuck it hurt me growing up with her. She stripped me of any kind of emotional backbone a parent is supposed to help build.
So I came to live with my dad. He was better in ways. He at least put food in the fridge. But I noticed his attack was more subtle. He was never pleased with me. If I got straight A's on my report card he'd shrug. If I vacummed the house, he's fit a spot and then make me do it all again. And all I heard from the family was things he complained about me behind my back. My Grandpa would ask why I wasn't working 2 jobs instead of one only a day after I quit, my siblings would ask why I wasn't cleaning up enough if I didn't do the dishes one night. Nothing I did was enough. And I was never even seen compared to his other star children. I would never be as pretty as the eldest, or as talented as the brother, or as devoted and godliest as my sister. I was never anything more than "the baby". My self esteem, shrunk to the size of a golf ball.
Why am I saying all this? Because at this time I'm trying to figure out a career. A job. Something to study in college. But I can't decide. I'm afraid. Terrified. And so confused about myself that I can't figure out what I want. I'm so screwed up I don't even trust my own thoughts. I have no confidence or boldness to just make a decision and stick to it. To trust myself to know what I want. Where does that leave me?
When I was eight I used to look for caterpillars around my yard. When I'd find one I'd get one of my mothers pickle jars and cut small holes in the lid. I'd put grass and twigs and make a little green habitat for the caterpillar to live in. I'd watch it eat, and sleep, and even make itself into a caccoon all in room. And like clockwork I'd wait all year for it to emerge into a butterfly in the pickle jar, and like an alarm I'd forget to hide it and my mother would (in her random raids) come into my room and throw it away. I never got to see the butterflies. She stole that from me.
One year though I was extra careful. And I finally came home to a beautiful gold butterfly where there had only been a brown sack before. I took the jar outside and released her. I wanted to set her free, to watch her fly away. But the funny was she didn't fly away, she didn't even leave. She just sat in the glass, stupid and scared to even come out. Thinking about it now I wonder, is that me? Too conditioned to destructive people, to a destructive enviroment? Contained in glass of doubt that even when I have to the chance to break free I don't take it? Will I ever fly? Or am I still in a cacoon.
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