Posts Tagged ‘school’

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Starting out three months too soon,

He didn’t make it.

My twin was too little,

I took the nutrition,

This you’ll hear, is my rendition.

Left alone, parents aside.

Only touched out of necessity,

Rarely for love comfort,each time much brevity.

Fed through my head because I couldn’t feed.

A little weird, I think, because apparently I managed my needs:

In the womb, next to my brother,

The moment we’re out I don’t get another

Moment near him as they swooped him away,

Or fell into the bucket, there’s none who will say.

None who can or will tell me the truth as I stare off into space,

Appearing aloof.

Bitterness abounds as my family breaks apart.

It was at my birth, at my start.

Sure there were problems and problems before,

I can’t help but think I added to the stress more.

Regardless, I was an innocent life,

Quite fragile, delicate, and constantly under the knife.

They thought I was stupid, young, naive.

I knew what was going on, always protecting my reality,

Not wanting to believe,

That my parents couldn’t love me,

That they constantly grieve,

The three children they had

1 dead

1 dying

and the last, keeps trying.

That’s me, the last, a bundle of unknowns,

I stepped away to grow up on my own.

From a very young age I never connected,

They blamed birth, the brain bleed, always something indirect.

They never stepped up, they never confessed,

That all this, all this came from distress.

If they were dead, this life might make sense.

At the very least, I would have evidence, and my world not as dense.

I despise them, I pity them,

For parents they are not.

I used to want to leave, ran away a lot.

No one helped me as I sat in despair.

I was the crazy one, life perfectly unfair.

I was judged, ridiculed, abused all the time,

When I asked for help and spoke the truth, it was as if I did the crime.

I didn’t, I was just a little kid,

Shouldn’t have to take care of myself,

Yet I did.

This pattern created a grown up too soon,

From the age of 6 I was off, zoom zoom.

I began to rebel, only from them,

I began to stay away, always sent to my room.

The monster within me wouldn’t leave,

As I destroyed my things, myself, all in a vain attempt to grieve.

For not having a mommy to cuddle with when I was upset,

Not having a daddy as he was filled with his own, deep-seated regret.

I did have Barbara, emotionally and completely destroyed.

I did have Ken, an unstable adult child, who I sometimes enjoyed.

Then there’s Michael, who never really liked me,

He noted this before and to the police I was crazy,

And last from my childhood was Judi, far from a lady.

I yearned to connect, to please have a family,

No, not for me,

That would be uncanny.

As my world unraveled, I followed suit,

How did I not die on this treacherous pursuit?

I was done, ready to die,

What kind of life is this, all alone, with no one nearby.

Somehow I’ve lived, they call it fortuitous,

They call it a miracle, they call it bliss.

I don’t know what to say,

I just don’t want to struggle, through this, day after day.

I want to live, to stay alive,

Yet there’s uncertainty and death has been near,

The angels called for me, and I was like a deer,

Caught in the headlights, unsure how to proceed,

As the angels waited nearby,

Would I concede?

I didn’t go, not wanting to die alone,

But I was ready, done with the drone,

Of being sick, unloved and unwanted,

The only hope I had left, slowly dissipating,

My life was on the edge as I was done fighting,

Too scared to die, too tired to live,

I drifted through the night, unable to give.

I woke in the morning, rather confused,

The medicine finally worked, I didn’t lose.

I was alive, albeit tired, weak and meek,

Wanting to finish school, week after week.

I loved where I lived, not wanting to leave,

Yet I had to, this time,

If I wanted to breathe.

Life is breath,

Breath is life,

I must remember this pattern to be rid of the strife.

I’m alive now, I’m writing this down,

Missing Denmark, my twin, and my upside-down frown.

I was happy there, though I was sick.

I had friends, ones I could pick.

I’m lost here, where I don’t belong,

I’ve nothing here, not even a mom.

I have me, only me, someone I despise,

Who stole from a baby, ripped apart a family,

All by being alive.

 

 

 

Considering I’ve never been a fan of lying, I have to set some things straight on here. I’m currently studying abroad and it has been one of the best experiences of my life. I’ve dealt with some major issues, all within the first few weeks of arriving. To make this readable, I won’t include the gritty details right now. I will sum it up as such:

-I found out the day before coming here that my brother was going to have brain surgery in a few weeks.

-Right before his surgery, my biological family insisted that I see him, didn’t believe I was studying abroad and harassed me about not seeing him.

-I asked my biological father (the only person I talk to on occasion to not tell anyone that I was here as I didn’t think it would ameliorate the situation.

-Said person did in fact break his word and tell people I was studying abroad. His relaying this fact did more harm than good as I had initially suspected.

-Prior to the surgery, my grandpa became sick suddenly and died. When I asked my father if I should attend the funeral, his e-mail reply was “no need to disrupt school”.

-No one told my brother about my grandpa dying until after his surgery. My dad didn’t even make it to his own dad’s funeral.

It’s no surprise that my motility disorder only worsened throughout my time here. I fucking hate food. Every single time I eat I either become nauseated, regurgitate food, throw up (unintentionally) or have gurgling in my esophagus and stomach indicative of the spasms.

Over the break, I hope to see some therapists and doctors that I had over the summer prior to coming here. My friends already say I should be in treatment again. I know that I do not want to end up in the cycle of treatment. Plus, I’ve been offered an amazing opportunity to extend my studies here doing a neuroscience internship at a hospital. These sorts of opportunities don’t just happen upon someone in the States, they are hard to come by. When presented with the possibility that I could become sicker while here, my honest response is “so what?”.

Bluntly put, I’d rather die at least trying to get ahead in life then return to my basically nothing life in the States. I’m sick of missing out on opportunities because I’m physically or emotionally unwell. I crave having a family and the host family I have here is the closest thing I’ve experienced to a “normal” family. I just have no desire to appear sad in front of them or express my negative emotions. I judge myself, thinking that they expect me to be level-headed because of my age. After all, their two older kids are younger than me and out of the house and supporting themselves from what I know. One even has a two year old. I believe in my twisted world I must come across as stable and without issues and this is how I portray myself to most everyone.

Sometimes, I see the school psychologist and lately she’s been questioning my mood. I know she can pick up on my sadness even though I assure her repeatedly that I’m FINE. FINE = fucked up, insecure, neurotic and emotional. Yeah, I’m fine. I don’t want my experiences to be halted by psychiatric treatment. Not here, not now. I just don’t know how much longer I can keep this jig up.

 

In my decision on whether or not to remain at school overnight to complete a paper, these were the factors I contemplated:

-if I stay at school, I won’t be able to change clothes for tomorrow
-if I stay at school I save two hours of travel time and could use that most efficiently on this paper I’ve completely procrastinated on
-if I stay at school, I will likely have less adequate sleep than if I go home
-if I stay at school, I will have less distractions than at home
-I’m probably too tired to bike home anyway
-I’ll have to figure out a way to get food at low cost if I stay at school for many meals
The last brilliant aspect that popped into my head:

-if I stay at school, I won’t be able to weigh myself, omg I have to weigh myself if I’m going to actually eat

Guess which entity won out? You got it, the last one.
Never mind the fact that going home means I have a shot at making and attending a same-day doctor appointment for my esophageal spasms. Spasms which refuse to let me or those surrounding me eat in silence. “Gurgle, gurgle” goes my throat after every solid or liquid swallow of sustenance. My stomach growls constantly as the nutrients I put in it aren’t enough to last very long. Backed up throat, chest pains-apparently those pale in comparison to my obsession with getting home to use the white-plated almost-square piece that will reveal my weight in digital red numbers to the nearest .5 kilograms. Kilograms-the measurement I now comprehend full well-at least around 60-70kg. What a reason to learn the metric system-all to know my weight-such motivation!

Stupid fricking scale. Annoyed with my brain for believing a number is actually worth something. At this point, I don’t believe I’m worthwhile unless I’m trying to work on my physique. Thanks brain.

I don’t know if there’s any way to circumvent this situation; I’m reluctant to continue at the States with undergraduate education. I’ve recently looked at the class schedule for the Spring term and only two out of at least four classes I planned on taking I can actually take. This completely screws with my educational trajectory.

Additionally, unsure how this will come across; courses are a bit simple and I’m not using my brain fully. I am ready to delve into topics I’m actually interested in as opposed to fulfilling liberal ed requirements and take courses really of no particular relevance to my intentions.

In trying to figure out what schools to tour here and with all requirements and whatnot, I’d be fortunate if I was able to begin in the next three years abroad. I’m not sure that’s even practical/realistic. It’s frustrating and I’m annoyed at how long it’s taken me to complete just a “simple” undergraduate educational path. I’m not sure what to do. I know I don’t want to continually postpone my life and I feel very stuck and limited with options right now.

Also with the recent transpiration of events, I’ve noticed I don’t really have support over there short of two friends. Not only is there no support, the contact I receive from “family” is evil and threatening.

Yeah, sure I could always go into some treatment center, except I’m inclined to believe that I was subjected to unnecessary treatment because of other people’s shortcomings and insights. It seems like an enormous amount of my life has been wasted, and frankly it’s been a bit depressing coming to that realization. Sometimes, it seems like I don’t have a future because of these pitfalls.

My emotions are usually compartmentalized and I can shut them off; I do not have the same efficacy when it comes to the larger picture though, my brain.

My educational pursuits and eventual career path of becoming a physician is the sole reason I am alive right now I wish it were the only entity of life I had to focus on.

These privileged students who scoff at me for trying to make a living during the end of term by buying books through a national company are upright snobs. Yes, this is exactly what I want to do during finals week, go around to friends and strangers and attempt to sway them to sell their books to me for cash.

I feel like a drug dealer most of the day carrying around way more cash than I’ve possessed in the last year, that amount it took years to be built up in savings and burnt through in months for health care costs. If I identify how I feel at this moment it is somewhere in between a cloud over reality and a shield made from black-box materials. I am entirely detached from reality, I can’t even grasp my present reality and I certainly am not handling well the pressures of three inconsistent buys jobs and an accelerated physics course on the weekend in addition to a full load during the week. About ten days more. Sure I can handle getting 5 hours of sleep. I’ve built the strongest tolerance I’ve ever experienced to medications right now. No dose knocks me out, even the strong ones at least not for more than 5 “quantity” hours of sleep, entirely lacking quality. My eye is twitching, I want to sleep. My brain is on fire. It keeps going, thinking. Turn off brain.

I don’t understand it, I don’t think we only get as much as we can handle because if I could handle all of this, I’d be getting straight A’s setting me up well for medical school. I’m not. You know why? Because there’s not enough time in the day to study work and sleep, and the compromise begins and ends with sleep. Sleep is my worst enemy. I never liked the night, always believed I’d be kidnapped or murdered at night. I was not consoled when I approached my parents with these concerns, rather shunned. Locked into my own room, locked out of everyone else’s. I was the only one in the house who didn’t get to have a lock on my door. Let’s talk about privilege and right and exclusivity. You don’t exist for me, because reality doesn’t exist for me. And that’s my brain.

“And now I’ve got to explain the smell that was in there before I went in there. Does that ever happen to you? It’s not your fault. You’ve held your breath, you just wanna get out, and now you open the door and you have to explain, ‘Oh! Listen, there’s an odor in there and I didn’t do it. It’s bad.”
Ellen DeGeneres, My Point…And I Do Have One

A simple task, at least physically. No no it’s not about relieving oneself. I went to the store yesterday to buy food. Emotionally this gets to me, because anything surrounding food is triggering for me. Physically, going through the motions of buying the food, well that’s ok.

After longer than I anticipated, perhaps one hour, I finally made it to the checkout. I pay for my food with EBT (electronic benefit transfer/food stamps). It hasn’t always been this way. Ever since I lost my entire savings paying for health-related matters, I qualify for food stamps. A year ago at this time I wouldn’t have been eligible.

Needless to say, it’s embarrassing. Once the bright yellow card is whipped out of my wallet, I feel like the cashier and those in line look at me differently. I feel as though I can’t even take my phone out at the checkout because people will judge me for having a smartphone. Little do they know that I bought this at a huge discount and that my phone bill is also massively discounted.

I feel bad if I get snack foods. I’ve read peoples’ opinions on those receiving EBT. They firmly believe that it should be used only for healthy foods and they think to themselves “damn MY hard-earned money is going to pay for this b#tch’s snack attack”.

Let me make it very clear that not everyone who has food stamps is unemployed and being “unproductive” in life. I work two-three jobs at a given time and attend school. My earned income has gone likely to my own EBT card (in the scheme of it all).I still fall below the poverty line. I am not sitting at home, munching away on non-nutritious items. Still, I feel judged in the line.

Yesterday was no exception. I made it to the front of the line and was swiping my card to pay. Mind you, the majority of items I bought were healthy. I do appreciate that certain snacks are vegan, and I essentially had a craving for Oreos (>99% vegan) and Skittles (100% vegan).While paying, not all of my items were valid. I asked the cashier to please let me know which items didn’t qualify as I wasn’t able to pinpoint them. She was not the best at math (I blame calculators), and kept saying it was items that didn’t actually add up to the leftover amount. Eventually, she summoned a manager and suddenly, three store employees were working to figure out this freaking simple task. I don’t know why it is as problematic as this. I’ve had cashiers at this store in the past be able to let me know immediately which items don’t ring through for EBT purposes.

People started to get antsy in line, completely understandable. They were agitated and annoyed. I felt bad because it’s always made known when someone has EBT. Certain items qualify, (sometimes even at different stores, eligibility differs-go figure) and certain items don’t qualify. There is often no logic to the method. I thought by now I had figured out the system considering I’ve made at least 20 trips to the store since receiving EBT. The five or so people who were behind me removed their items from the belt and brought their carts to another checkout. With the efflux of customers, some customers thought this was their chance to come to a checkout with a small line. To the first person who arrived I said, “You might want to go to another line, this could be a while; all the other people here brought their items to another line. He replied, “Oh did they?” and kindly moved on. I couldn’t bring myself to say it to the next person and I didn’t.

Needless to say, by this point, the highest manager started also doing improper math, and then determined matter-of-factly that it was Oreos and Skittles that didn’t fit the bill so I asked her to remove them from the bag. I was through with this public ordeal and still didn’t feel right with the calculations. I took my receipt and items with me outside, sat down on a bench and did calculations. Oreos were still listed on my receipt, skittles weren’t. Stuff just didn’t add up. I went back in, regained my composure and asked the cashier to see the manager again.

The manager directed me to the customer service area and cancelled my receipt. A  new cashier rang my order through. It was at this point it was determined that there was still a discrepancy in the bill. The manager may have been accurate in taking out the Skittles earlier, but not the Oreos. The new flavor of Triscuits, a red savory bean flavor made with brown rice was the culprit. Triscuits, people! Healthy crackers. Boy do I despise the brains of humanity at times.

Festival of Colors Ad

 

Today I am attending the festival of colors. I am going because it is for a school assignment, however this is a day I can hopefully redirect my focus and my energies into a positive entity. Today, I vow to myself that I will make a huge effort to be positive, which will hopefully result in facilitating and stirring any kind of happiness within. Pictures to come!

Group Yoga:

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