Total Eclipse of My Heart

I woke up from a conversation happening in the living room of baggies. It was interesting listening in on what people were saying. There was an older woman out there, talking to a couple of girls. Calvin talked to her earlier about drugs and stream of consciousness earlier when I was napping. Calvin’s sleeping now and I listened trying to figure who she was. I thought, and said aloud, “I wonder if she’s a psychologist.” I said that because she was analyzing one of the couples in the house. I immediately felt a sting in my chest for placing a label on her, rather than accepting that she was a part of the community. I labeled her and judged her. Interestingly enough, she was talking about judgments at that particular moment. She said that gossip and those who listen in on those who are gossiping could place judgment on those who are talking.

I was thinking about participation and how I’ve always been a wallflower. I sleep at times of the day when most are awake and I write in the silence of the world. I wonder if that is the reason why I am so judgmental. I only speculate about the world rather than interact with it. I eavesdrop, people watch, and make assertions that I have no real data about.

I also wonder if my sexual activity in life has been the only way for me to have a voice. I’m actually a very shy person, but I can be, have been trained to be, a socialite. Often times I don’t get the attention and try to lure it by making myself physically visible and known. I wanted people to know my insecurities. I wanted them to know that I am vulnerable by wearing less clothes, or by seeming elitist in some way. However, I see that it is far more attractive for a female to be more conservative about her body because she cares about herself and her body. The “flaunt it if you’ve got it” has come from bad day time talk show TV like Maury and Montel. I’ve been on this journey trying to discover who I am.

I feel that people are blank slates, written by the environment that surrounds them, reacting to those environments. For example, a pair of twins has an alcoholic father. One of the twins turns out to be just like dad, a total alcoholic, and the other turns out to be nothing like his father, vowing never to ingest alcohol.

I’ve reacted very much to the absence and presence of my parents in my life. My father used to watch Howard Stern, and E!, and Chuckie before I would go to bed at night. This was his “tucking in” process. He would sit by my bed until I fell asleep but I would watch TV with him. No American dream, father reading to child bullshit. Anyone who knows me, knows about my paranoia probably from Chuckie, my curiosity in sexual information probably on Howard Stern, and my knowledge of the outside world is probably from E! I mean, I am very much a product of the television I watched as a child. I spent time with my grandmother and by myself. My grandmother taught me a lot about these wise lessons which I understood, but didn’t recognize as life until now in my adult years. I was a very quiet child. I never spent time with friends outside of school or had slumber parties or anything like that because my mother worried about me. I think I lacked my mother until about junior year in high school, when I finally shared myself with her:

It was prom night and I was going out with a guy named Robbie, who lived in San Francisco/San Mateo. After prom with Alex, I rushed to see Robbie. My mother kept calling me and I ignored every single call until about 5 in the morning, when my older sister called and told me to come home. I was god awful tired because it was late and because I had a long drive ahead. I got home and the entire family was awake, my father hit me while I was crawling into bed, calling me a “chicken” and swearing at me. My mother looked on, but also pulling him away. I had vowed when I was young to leave the house if ever he hit me again, and so I was ready to leave, crying, angry, tired, and feeling justified.

My mother followed me into the garage where we sat and yelled and talked for a couple of hours. I told her I didn’t want to live any more. I told her to kill me. She said, “Why would I do such a thing? If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done that a long time ago.” I told her about my plans in life and I felt very hopeless. I yelled at her, screaming at her to tell me she loved me. She didn’t. I laid on my back, in sweatpants, and exhausted. Finally, she came up to me and grabbed my hand and told me she loved me. I got up and went for a walk, my brother following me. I was in tears walking up Moeser, but I eventually went home and slept. The day went as though nothing had happened but something in the dynamic of the relationships changed in that house.

I remember in my first year of college, watching a film about the LA riots. A mother was interviewed because her son was shot by one of the grocery store owners. She said that she sat waiting for him, praying that he would return. I kept crying, thinking how my mother stayed up for me every single night when I was in high school, not knowing where I was or what I was doing. As much as I wanted my mother to be a part of my life, I kept the door closed between us like I do with many of you all, yet I worry and wait for those who are ready and for those who aren’t ready to have me in their lives. I think it’s no one’s fault. It’s just the way it is.
It still is hard for me to open up with people because of the abandonment issues I have and the insecurities I have, and the reactions I continue to take because I’m afraid of heartbreak. I think the reason why I was so happy with Calvin in 8th grade and with life was because I was being. Calvin saw me at such an important time in my life because I felt like I was me—crazy, happy, and satisfied. It’s easy for me to be me at all times with Calvin. But I don’t want to miss out on all my friends who also care and love me because I don’t want to end up like my parents. I want to be able to keep those connections because they are important to me. That is why I am writing this. So you all can know me rather than guess who I am. So I can know me, so I can stop trying to figure out who I am and just be satisfied with myself. Like I’ve heard and continually repeat, “You are your own worst critic.”

However, I think within our selves, myself at least, I believe I have more potential to be a better person. We always question ourselves because we hope that there’s better. And let me say that “better” doesn’t necessarily mean find another partner or person to replace those currently in your life, it’s about time, commitment, communication, growth, and most importantly unconditional love. That is how the nation get stronger, the community gets stronger, the family get stronger, and most importantly, how the soul heals. I am regenerating myself to become a stronger being. So please bear with me in my struggle because I am here with you in yours. I love you all. Cheers!