So I have never really written about myself. I guess it has been a long time coming but writing about myself is the hardest thing for me to do. With others my thoughts are organized and I am able to clearly and carefully articulate how I feel about them and how they make me feel about myself onto the page. Other people and other events are a nice calm peaceful day at the lake. Writing about them makes me feel content and accomplished, as well as relaxed and revived. Writing about myself is the most unsatisfying incoherent thing I am ever asked to do. My day at the lake is rained on and ruined and all the pleasure is lost. This being said (or more ranted about) I intend to attempt to explain myself as I see myself.
My first memories were lying in a crib trying to reach the stars dangling over head. I'd guess I was about one maybe one and a half. Three years old, I remember my dog Hobson and the feel of her wet nose as she made sure I was alright and at four, the sound of my brother's voice as he would call me to play with him. As I grew up I formed very strong connections with sensory memories but none of them (that I recall) contain my parents. In hindsight, I like to believe I was preparing early for the life I was destined to lead.
In my elementary school years I was raised Catholic. That stood out to me. I believed it. I remember desperately wanting it all to be true because then I would have a dad somewhere who never yelled and always understood. I went to a Catholic school and hated it. Being much wiser now, I can see that I was stifled, but at the time I thought I was different and being different when you're young is not a good thing. I remember wanting people to understand who I was but not being able to show them. Unfortunately, instead of finding a way, I decided that I didn't want to know who I was. I read. and read and read and read! In first grade we made a bookworm around the school. Every book you read added a circle to the worm. I added two hundred and twelve circles. Second place was a meager ninety two. I don't say that to brag but just to make my point. In elementary school everyone was making friends and living life, but looking back on it I was creating worlds and escaping life.
Time spent at home wasn't exactly awesome either. My parents have not understood me since day one. It's not their fault; I was wrong or confused or stubborn I was told. In every subject there was a better answer than the one I had to offer. I vividly remember eating macaroni and cheese with salsa and telling my dad that I thought moving to the moon would be cool. I had just finished reading a book about the solar system and couldn't wait to share my knowledge. The response I received was "Sami, that is completely nonsensical and I really don't see the point of discussing it." I was in third grade...but I wasn't upset. I remember that. It seems weird that I wouldn't be upset but I assume it was a common occurrence. As a child I had scheduled mealtimes and a scheduled life. I had extracurricular activities chosen for me and was taught that privacy is a hard to earn privilege and most certainly not a right. My childhood was different than most, but I mean everyone has to grow up somehow!
Some things to note:
- I had my first true contact with either of my parents when I was one month and four days old.
- Because I was born early, I have a manageable number of "problems" with different things.
- I had my first best friend as soon as I was brought home. (She was my next door neighbor and the happiest part of my tiny little world)
- I read my first chapter book when I was just over four and I haven't looked back since!
Ever since then life has truly opened up to me. My two-dimensional world of being misunderstood and introverted became transforming into a life. A life where not everything was perfect but I was living. I gained new friends and lost others all while learning about myself. By the middle of my sophomore year I felt like I belonged. That I was truly where I belonged and things could only get better. Unfortunately I was wrong.
My parents had always pushed me. Hard. I had gotten used to this, but in tenth grade I developed an intense rebellious streak. I think all teenagers go through it but my parents did not accept it. Tensions became worse, I would dread the thought of going home, every night ended in a lecture on my inadequacies and me dragging myself sobbing off to bed. I was weak and they knew it. At this same time I fell behind on some of my required chores. I eventually decided that they meant nothing to me and one night they kicked me out. Apparently, living with them wasn't the right I presumed it to be. It was spring and I spent my first but not my last night without a home. It scared me but not until after. During that night I was simply so furious with my parents that I was glad to be out. Looking back on it I should have been scared out of my mind especially considering my timid personality but I was liberated, if only for a night.
I came back and things went back to their tense states. Similar events occurred sporadically throughout the summer and the beginning of junior year, but I no longer cared what my parents thought or did. They were simply a barrier to my happiness and I would have done anything to forget them. A little ways into my junior year, I got my chance. My parents and I didn't just have a fight, we had a war and in such a clash there can be no winners. The divide was too far the chasm too deep, we could not cross it to get back to the uncomfortable tension so all I could do was leave. I found a place of my own and began what I thought was a new life. I got another part time job along with my job at Homegoods to afford everything and was convinced that this is what I had always needed. For a while I loved it! But then I got lonely. Things were quiet, I wasn't fighting...but there wasn't any noise; I was slipping but I couldn't admit it.
After a little over a month and a half my parents found out there are no legal ways for a minor to become emancipated in Minnesota and made me come home. Since then I have decided that hiding to stay protected from them is not worth it. I have chosen to be myself and share my views and let them deal with the consequences...now if only I could put that into action. I mean it sounds so good in theory right? Today life is much better than my imaginary world of elementary school or my solitary world of living on my own. I hope I am finally finding a balance point in my life that isn't going to slip away at the last moment. I still have my "what if" moments but life seems a lot brighter and living never seemed so possible.
