Flashback and Comparing

*Reader beware: This is a long blog (not that that's unusual). Be advised*

This Wednesday was another busy day for me. First off, I'd been busy with my EOP (End-Of-Program) Exam all week starting last Friday until this morning.  The EOP exams of picking 3 topic questions out of a total of 10 to do 3 research essays (1 per question) on. It had already been a long and stressful past few days on Wednesday. I'd been busy working almost nonstop on my essays. I wanted to have all 3 essays done by Wednesday since I knew I was going to be busy. However, things didn't quite work out as I had originally hoped. I blame myself really. I had Essay 2 and 1 done by Tuesday and was really slow getting to work on Essay 3. By Tuesday, I was just tired of it all and wanted to be done. I got up a bit late Tuesday morning and didn't really rush to start on my final essay. Instead I put it off for awhile. I finally started it but only worked on it for about an hour before I went to help out at the Emily Fowler library with one of their weekly programs. I came back and still didn't really work on my essay. I had a bit of a snack and just messed around. Then I made dinner. Finally I got started on my essay. I got it started Tuesday night and tried to get as much done as possible but I didn't finish it like I wanted to.  I was up a bit late too working on it.

Wednesday morning, I woke up really early just so I could finish it. I only got about 4 hours of sleep which didn't exactly help much. To add to that, I decided that I wasn't going to have caffeine in the form of Iced Coffee that morning. Yeah, it was a bit of a challenge that day trying to stay awake. But I did end up finishing my essay in the morning so it was worth the lack of sleep. Right after I finished, I had to had to the bus stop so I could get to campus early. I wanted to try and have lunch before my therapy session since I wasn't going to be able to afterward. After lunch, I had my therapy session at 1PM and then caught the bus back to my apartment. I had a small break before I had to change clothes and be at the North Branch library to help out with a program.

I'd actually forgotten about agreeing to help out with the program until last week when the children's librarian reminded me during the Magic Treehouse program. I figured it would be a good break from me since I was going to be tired from working on my EOP and it was a good break but it was also very chaotic I felt.

Anyways, so I got to the library and was ready to help out with the program. We were going to be putting on a tour and scavenger hunt for a group of 4th and 5th grade students. It was some sort of after school program. The librarian needed some extra hands to keep an eye out.

I feel like I should mention that when I first got in, the teen librarian and the practicum student called the children's librarian and I over to show us something that one of the other branch librarians had sent. Apparently the other librarian had made an error in an advertisement. It seemed to me that they found it funny which I guess in a way it was but it also made me feel a bit awkward. I mean, everyone makes mistakes and part of me felt that they were not being very nice toward the other librarian. The Teen librarian emailed the other librarian back though, pointing out the error. So hopefully everything turned out ok. Still though, just the way they had reacted made me feel a bit uncomfortable.

Anyways, moving on. So while we were waiting for the kids to arrive, the practicum student and I helped get some clipboards together. She mentioned to the Teen librarian that she had applied for a Library Assistant II position at South branch and how she had gotten called in for an interview. I hadn't even heard about the position so I couldn't apply for it. It made me feel bad since here I was the one going to be graduating and needing the job. Then again, I hadn't exactly been trying all that hard. The practicum student said it hadn't been open very long and then asked me if I was part of LISSA. I was a bit delusional from exhaustion and the EOP that at first I thought she said LISTA which is a database we library science students are supposed to use to find electronic articles.  But she was actually talking about the Library and Information Science Student Association. She said that job postings were listed there for North Texas and that I should check it out.  I told her I would keep it in mind knowing that I probably wouldn't be looking at it for some time since I'm having issues in general with getting motivated to begin even searching for a job.

So the librarian had us help set up a few things and write a Welcome message on the dry erase board in the program room. I wrote the message but as usual, it went crooked. I just can't seem to write in a straight line when it comes to writing on a dry erase board or anything similar. Without lines, I tend to slant upwards when I write. I The practicum student was watching me and when I joked I couldn't write straight on a board she commented about how she had to learn. I explained that I had never really been able to write straight on a board, not even when I was student teaching. That's when she mentioned that she had been a student teacher too.  I told her that I was a student teacher and that it showed me that I wasn't meant to be a teacher.

Then the program began. The kids came in and things were a bit crazy for awhile. They were very loud and I wasn't entirely sure what I was supposed to do.  I've never been someone who felt very comfortable yelling at the kids to get them to calm down and pay attention. The librarian and the librarian assistant got them to calm down and listen. I was already getting a bit of a flashback moment at this point to Student Teaching and it was already making me a bit nervous.

When we were doing the tour of the library, we each took a group. The children's librarian and I had the 5th graders while the Library Assistant and the practicum student had the 4th graders. There was also some sort of camp supervisor or something with each group. The tour was interesting but the kids were very loud and it was a bit hard to keep them all under control. I was still uncertain of what my job was. I tried to make sure the kids were staying with the group but felt awkward when it came to making sure they stayed quiet and listened.  I was just starting to have flashbacks to my student teaching and trying to keep discipline and I didn't really like it. It was becoming apparent to me at this point that the counselor or whoever was with our group was doing little to nothing to help us control the kids.

It was pretty funny when we went into the Teen Room. It was already loud (it always is) and it got a bit louder when we got in there. The 5th graders were trying to act all cool but the minute we went into the Red Room, they went crazy! Playing with the Puppet stage and giant stuffed tiger. It was just so funny.

 Finally once the other group had finished their tour, we headed back into the Program Room. As we went back into the room, I noticed the Practicum Student keeping control of some of the kids who were waiting in line to get drinks from the water fountain. She just had more control of the kids. More of the "Teacher Voice"  and discipline stuff that I lacked; perhaps never really had to begin with. It made me feel inferior in comparison to her. It just made me feel terrible. Like I wasn't as good as she was.

Then came the scavenger hunt. The Library Assistant, practicum student, and I were all stationed at different areas within the library to assist the students with any problems they had with the questions. I was in the Junior Fiction area. It quickly became apparent to me that the students had no clue how to search for the questions. The question in the Junior Fiction area required that the students find a book by a certain author. After listening and observing for awhile, I picked up on a pattern: The students were all trying to search for the author by the first name! It hadn't occurred to them that if they couldn't find the author by the first name to search by the last name. They just never made that connection.  So I ended up helping them out by telling them to try searching by the last name. They finally got it and were able to finish the Scavenger Hunt.

Then the students went back to the Program Room, shared some of their answers, received a pencil and it was over. I was so glad. I was just feeling awkward afterward. Overwhelmed and just trying to figure out what had just happened. It was crazy.  I just kept saying that it reminded me too much of why I decided not to become a teacher. I just couldn't handle this type of stuff on a daily basis. It was just too much for me I felt.

It just reminded me way too much of my Student Teaching experience which I just hated. I was miserable with my experience. I mean there were a few things I did enjoy but mostly I didn't.  I'm just not good at discipline and such. I quickly picked up on the fact that these 4th and 5th grade students were at-risk and a bit lower level. When asked earlier many of them mentioned they hadn't been to a library before or that it had been years since they had. I got my confirmation during the scavenger hunt when I had to help them figure out to search by the last name. The logical connection would be that if you can't find something by the author's first name, to try searching by the last name. They just weren't making that connection and therefore that's why I had to help them.

Finding that out for certain afterwards from the Library Assistant just really made me think about my Student Teaching experience which was also with a lot of at-risk students. While the whole program overall was interesting, it just made me think too much about my student teaching and why I ultimately decided teaching just wasn't for me. 

The whole point of this is that I just felt so inferior compared to the practicum student. She had more of the "teacher voice" and the discipline down. Me on the other hand wasn't sure what to do

I don't know why I compare myself to others like this but I do. I compare myself and feel horrible when  I feel like they are much better at it than I am. I guess part of it stems from what I overheard last week. I overheard the children's librarian tell the practicum student "They were really impressed with you." What she was talking about, I'm not 100% certain. I'm pretty sure it had to do something with the one of the other branches. But it made me feel like perhaps I wasn't really impressive as a practicum student. That I wasn't that good. I guess that's why I felt the way I did after the program.

I don't know why I compare myself to others. Why I can't simply be content with my own accomplishments. Why I feel like there's always someone better than me. 

I'm sure I'm just as good as this practicum student is. Otherwise I wouldn't have passed last semester. Otherwise, I wouldn't be where I am right now close to graduating.

If only I could believe that more.

Fear of Failure

I've been thinking lately why I'm so afraid of failing. Why I try so hard at things. I really don't know. This week in therapy we talked about this.

I talked about how I considered my first failure to really be not getting into the graduate program there at Oklahoma State. However, the more I thought about it afterwards, I realized that isn't exactly true.

I thought back to middle school/junior high and the end of 7th grade. 

Back when I was in 6th grade and registering for 7th grade classes, I remember taking tests for the Accelerated classes and passing. I took Accelerated Science, Math, and English. I didn't take the test for Accelerated History because I didn't want to take the class. I liked History just fine but wasn't really interested in taking the accelerated class. 

I did fine with Accelerated Science and even with Accelerated English.  However, when it came to the Accelerated Math, I really struggled. Math was never really a strong subject for me but yet somehow I managed ok. At least I seemed to manage ok until I got into 7th grade. I just had a really difficult time with the Accelerated Math which was actually Pre-Algebra.  Obviously, it wasn't that I wasn't smart enough to be in the class since I had passed the test to get into it.  I just couldn't understand the concepts my teacher was trying to teach. I tried really hard in the class but I still just couldn't understand.

I felt like my teacher wasn't very supportive either. She would explain things to me over and over again and I still wouldn't understand. At some points it felt like she was irritated with me. It wasn't my fault I couldn't understand. She would even tell me that if I would stop talking to my friends so much and pay more attention, I'd understand it. But I would pay attention and yet I still wouldn't understand. My friends tried to help me and my sister-in-law tried to help me. Somehow, despite my struggles though, I manged to keep at least a B average in the class.  There were definitely a few assignments that I basically failed at (C or D grade) but still I managed to somehow keep a fairly decent grade.

I really didn't like math at this point. I felt stupid and just hated struggling so much. I hated math. I guess I knew I had problems with math but just kept trying. I still counted with my fingers for addition and subtraction. I was fairly good at multiplication but not for some facts. So I already had problems long before my struggles in 7th.

But then the tests came to qualify for taking 9th grade level classes in 8th grade. I took all the tests this time including for Accelerated 8th grade History (not for high school credit). English and Science went pretty well I felt and so did History. However, when it came to the test for Algebra, I struggled. I remember struggling on the test and I also remember not quite finishing. I remember panicking and just giving up near the end and filling out answers so I'd at least have something.  I still don't think I quite finished though.

I remember not feeling too pleased with how it had gone afterwards. But I tried not to think about it too much. I guess I thought I tried my best and that maybe I'd still manage to make it into the class. Maybe because I'd gotten into the Pre-Algebra class in 7th and felt I hadn't really done with on the test either, that I'd still have a shot. A few weeks later when the results came, I was shocked to  discover that while I had passed the tests for all the other classes, I had not passed the test to get into Algebra.

I remember just feeling so horrible about it. I couldn't really even be pleased that I had made it into the other classes. I just felt horrible about not making it into the Algebra class. My friends had made it but I hadn't.  It was awful.

I remember breaking down into tears. Honestly, I don't even think I waited until I got home. I remember just feeling horrible. I had failed at something.

I remember my parents trying to console me and telling me that they were proud of me anyways. Still it didn't make me feel very good.

Of course it also showed that I had a weakness and that weakness was math. Failing to get into the Algebra class basically said that I was struggling and that I needed help. That's where the Slyvan Learning Center came in. For my entire 8th grade year, I went to the center on weekends and breaks in Las Cruces. They helped me get back on track and while I still didn't like math that much. I no longer really hated it. As it was, I was better at it and did quite well at it in high school. So much that when I was a Senor, I took Pre-Calculus and did fairly well.  I even took College Algebra my second semester of 12th grade.

Failing to get into Algebra in 8th grade, was actually my first failure. The first time I can remember failing at something and feeling really horrible about it.  I've struggled and haven't always been perfect. I've had failures throughout but I guess this was really my first big failure. The first time I really tried hard at something but failed to live up to expectations.

Still though, it doesn't really say why I'm so afraid of failing. I guess I've just always have generally done well at school because I just liked to learn. I wanted to do my best.  Maybe it's because I've never really done horribly that I'm so afraid to fail.  Who knows?

Failure is always an option (or so people say) but it's not an option I'd chose to pick.

Peer Mediation

I think I mentioned that back in middle school, I was a peer mediator in middle school. It happened in 7th grade. I'm not entirely sure how this came to be but I ended up being one.

I think it had to do something with the teachers nominating you for such a position.  Like you had to have certain qualities to be considered.

Whatever the reasoning, I became a peer mediator. This basically meant that I would help resolve problems between students before things got too physical. I went through training to learn the best ways to solve conflicts and I would use those same techniques in situations.  Usually the two students that were having problems would go to the counselor's office to make a request for mediation.  Depending on the severity of the situation, the counselor's would either take care of the problem or else they would have us peer mediators handle things.

I remember handling a few situations during that year. There were always 2 of us peer mediators and we would always listen to both sides of the story. We made sure each student had the opportunity to speak without interruption and then after hearing both sides of the story. Us mediators would come together and along with the two students, work out a solution.

The situations were never extremely complicated. Mostly a misunderstanding. As I didn't really become a mediator until later in the year, I really didn't have many situations that I dealt with.  Still though, I felt I handled conflicts fairly well.

Little did I know my real test was yet to come.

I don't remember if I continued being a mediator in 8th grade but I might have. I don't remember if the program was still in place by then but if it was, I don't think I was part of it anymore. Perhaps it was a 7th grade only thing. Who knows?

I do remember though I went to counseling a lot in 8th grade.  Mostly I went because I was frustrated by my friends. I was always seemed to be put in the middle of fights and I hated it! Sometimes I was involved in fights.  I didn't know how else to handle some of the situations so I ended up going to the counselors to see if they could help.  They would help me mediate some of the issues between my friends and I. I just remember being tired of all the fights and sometimes wishing I could just disappear for a while, just so I didn't have to deal with them anymore. (Which of course worried my friends).

I remember a few times thinking and even joking, that I spent more time mediating my own fights and my friends fights than those of other people.

I felt like I could handle other people's problems better than I could handle my own and honestly, I still feel that way sometimes today.

Who would have thought that me mediating other student's conflicts back in 8th grade would lead me to having problems mediating my own conflicts? It almost seems counterproductive. You would think that with the training I had received in handling conflicts, I'd be better able to figure out solutions for my own. Don't think I didn't try. Of course it didn't exactly help that some of those friends were also peer mediators themselves.

I guess I'm just not good at handling conflicts unless they are someone else's.

The trouble with growing up

I've been struggling with the idea of growing up and I realize that I'm actually afraid to grow up. To fully be an adult. To take on the full responsibilities.

I don't want to be a full adult.  I'm not ready it seems to have a career and start supporting myself. I'm not ready for that responsibility. I don't feel like I'm ready.

That's what I think is keeping me from even looking for a job. The lack of motivation I have. Because I simply am not ready to take on that responsibility just yet.

Part of me feels like I'd rather stay young and innocent for a little while longer. Yet there is also part of me that knows I can't. That I have to grow up sometime.

Part of me feels ready to grow up too though. Part of me wants my parent's to realize that I'm an adult and let me live that way.

For instance, they keep pressuring me about finding a job. I realize I need to start doing this but I really wish they'd let me just take care of it in my own time. I'm working on it but they don't understand this.

It's a conflict I've had for awhile. Wanting to be an adult but at the same, not quite wanting to give up being a child. It's complicated. *I realize that I say that a lot. But that's the way things are.*

This was something else that was brought up in my therapy session. I mentioned how I feel like my thinking is a bit more mature than most people my age but yet I'm not quite ready to be an adult at the same time. It's confusing and I really don't know how to explain it.

Sometimes I want to go back to the carefree innocence of childhood. When things weren't nearly as complicated as they are now.  Sometimes I'd much rather have my parents take care of me as if I was still little.

And yet, I realize that I'm an adult and that I have to be more responsible about things and I want that as well. For the most part, I enjoy being an adult. Making my own decisions and such.

It's not like I have to grow up entirely either. I can still be a kid at heart and I know I always will be. That's part of what makes me unique. That's why I'm wanting to be a children's librarian. Because I'll never completely grow up. If I want to be good at my job, I have to have some "child-like" quality.

I'm not giving up my love for stuffed animals, Harry Potter, Mickey Mouse, Lisa Frank, coloring, Disney, Lucky Charms, etc. to become a boring adult.

The way I look at it, Youth Service Librarians are just like big kids. We like having fun too!

I don't have to give up everything I enjoy about being a child just to become an adult. I realize this. Yet still the idea of growing up scares me. I just don't feel ready.

Broken strings

I posted some of this on Tumblr the other day and thought I'd perhaps go a bit more into it here:

I often wonder when the strings all broke. When did it become too much for me to handle things on my own? I’ve struggled with many of the same problems for years. But why has it all decided to come apart now? 

I can’t help but wonder if the nervous breakdown I had a few years ago was the strings beginning to break. Maybe that was the first sign of things to come. Yet maybe not.  

A few years ago, I had a full on nervous breakdown. There's really no other way to describe it. I know I've talked about this before. It was in 2009, my 2nd to last semester of my Senior year of college.  It was during what was know as Semester Y in the degree for Elementary Education. It was pretty much the semester from hell (if you'll excuse my language). I had been warned several times previously by my advisor that Semester Y was intense and stressful. It was recommended that you didn't work during that semester because of how intense it was. Luckily, I had quit my job the semester prior. I had only been working for a little over 6 months at the Stillwater Public Library as a Shelver.  Things had already started becoming too much for me to handle during Semester X and I knew it was only going to get much worse, so I decided to quit in order to focus completely on my studies.

I was already worried about Semester Y. Everyone was. Everyone had heard the same basic things I had: That it was crazy and intense.  There was an option to take the ExCEL program which meant you'd spend one day on campus taking all the necessary coursework and spend 3 days at the Elementary School. It meant that you had the option of a full-year of student teaching instead of just one semester since many times you could stay with your placement teacher. You also got to stay in Stillwater teaching at one of the local Elementary Schools.   If you opted not to take ExCEL you had a practicum experience, All-Day on Wednesday in  the Oklahoma City area and had your classes spread out throughout the rest of the week except for Friday. Fridays everyone had off regardless if you were in ExCEL or not.  The ExCEL program seemed like a good idea but I ultimately decided not to do it. I was already concerned about being able to handle the amount of classes spread over the week. I couldn't even imagine cramming them all into a single day. It was a limited amount they accepted into the program anyways and while I'm sure I could've made it, I just felt like I'd stick with the regular courseload.

It turns out that perhaps it was better for me to have been in the regular program. Already from the first day of classes, I felt overwhelmed with everything. It was insane!  I honestly didn't know how I was going to be able to handle everything or even if I would be able to handle everything.

I don't quite remember how soon after the beginning of the semester it was but it happened: I had a nervous breakdown. It happened right after my Intermediate Math class (The teacher was so horrible. We all hated her. Everyone in her class hated her. She basically said we were stupid but smiled about it and gave us cookies!) I'm not sure what exactly broke me but I did. I'm pretty sure that I was on the verge of breaking down right as the class ended. I'm not even sure that I didn't already break down before leaving the class. I know the minute I stepped outside the classroom though, I just broke down. I was crying and just couldn't get myself together. 

It was so bad. I remember calling my mother who tried so hard to get me to calm down but I just couldn't. I just remember going outside and sitting on one of the buildings in just a state. It got so bad that I was hyperventilating and started feeling dizzy and faint; like I was going to pass out. It was just horrible and it scared me. Eventually I did calm down. I remember going back into the building and up to my professor's class and talking to her about something. Something that I didn't understand in class.  Something that had essentially set me off.

What happened legitimately scared me. Nothing like that had ever happened before. Ever. It freaked me out so much. I knew I needed some help. I didn't know if I could happen again but I just knew I didn't want it to happen again. So I sought counseling.  That was really the first time the string broke.

Counseling helped. Things I'm discussing in therapy now where some of the same things I discussed back then. Only now there's more. I think I only went for 6 sessions. That's all I felt I needed to get me back to a better place. Get me to a point where I was able to handle things again. To help me repair the string that had broken or at least fix it enough.

Sometimes now, I wonder if I was really ever ok after that.  Perhaps the string was never completely repaired. Perhaps it was only temporarily fixed. Perhaps it was simply just frayed. Maybe it was just barely fixed. Fragile, barely held together; susceptible to breaking again.
 
The 2nd string certainly broke during 2010 Graduation week. Perhaps that was really the string that resulted in things being the way they are now.

I've already explained the chaos that happened during Graduation week. So many emotions going on that week. I don't think I ever quite had the time to grieve. I didn't feel like I had time to really say goodbye to my life there. On top of all that, I was supposed to be happy that I was graduating. Happy to be spending time with family celebrating. Too many things going on. 

Failing to get into the grad program there at Oklahoma State was probably when the string actually broke. I had failed at something. I had failed and I didn't understand why I had failed. Everything that happened afterward just added until the string finally broke.

There was no counseling this time. Nothing to get me back on track. There really wasn't time. I had to figure out the next step. Where I was going to next. That occupied my time. I didn't really have time to focus on what had just happened. The string was broken but I couldn't think about it then.  I was too busy searching for another grad school and then trying to apply. Then I had to find a new place to live once I got in. The chaos still wasn't over. 

I finally got here to Denton and was just trying to get settled into a new place and a new school.  For awhile, things were just ok. I figured I was still adjusting.  But then after awhile, things started building up again. Things weren't getting any better. I was lonely and I think I finally started to really grieve over what happened in Oklahoma. Things had finally calmed down enough that I was starting to make sense of what happened.

And then the Incident happened. Another string was broken. Still though, I did nothing.

I fell further and further into a depression. Locked myself away. Ashamed over what happened. Not saying a word to anyone except my friends. Then the return and I'm sent into another breakdown over the memory of what had happened months previously. Yet another string broken. Pushed into a further state of unhappiness.

Finally, I reached out. I just couldn't handle it anymore. The broken strings had gotten to be too much.  I was dealing with too much. Freaked out over what happened. Dealing with general unhappiness with being here in Denton and dealing with stress in my courses. I reached out to counseling. Short-term. It helped. I felt like a lot was said and things were starting to improve.

Summer came. On the trip back home, things were discussed. Things had gotten to the point that even my family noticed my unhappiness and were concerned for me.  Things were fine during the summer. Then I return to Denton.  I still had things left unresolved. I didn't want to return to the state I was in prior to leaving for the summer. I returned to the short-term counseling before they suggested the Psychology Clinic and more long-term therapy. 

Since then, that's where I've been. The strings have slowly begun being fixed. 

So many broken strings. Sometimes it's a wonder I've survived this long.

I'm a bit tired of the strings being broken. I often wonder if they'll ever be fixed again. If I'll ever be "normal" again.

Many questions with few answers

Who am I trying to prove things to? 
Why am I so afraid of failing?


These are the questions I’m supposed to reflect on over this week for therapy. Questions that I don’t really have answers to. Questions that I’m not even sure I’ll ever really know the answers to.

Yep I'm supposed to find answers for them. What answers?

Another session of therapy today and I felt like a lot was covered today. Certainly a lot of questions were asked.

Why am I different?
Why do you think those girls thought you were weird?
Are there other times I've felt a certain way?

A lot of questions. Questions that are meant to give my therapist more insight to my problems. Questions that I feel that I don't always have answers to. I often feel as though I can't always figure out why I have these problems. Which is really part of the problem, I think.

Certainly if I had all the answers, I'm sure I  wouldn't be having nearly as many problems.

The answers are few. The questions many. I struggle to find the answers. To figure out what exactly to say.

All these questions are legitimate questions. They make sense why my therapist is asking them. They make me think.

Yet still, the answers are lacking. I think about the questions so much and yet I still don't end up with much more of an answer than I started out with.

Where am I supposed to find the answers? Will I ever find them?

More questions. Not enough answers. 

I honestly don't know who I'm trying to please. Is it me? Is it my family? Who is it?  It's been like this for a long time. I guess I just feel like I have to please someone even when I don't.

Why am I so afraid of failing? 

Again, I don't know. I've just always been someone who has tried to be the best I can be. I hate to fail for some reason.

The more I seem to think about such things, the more questions I come up with and even fewer answers.


**On a positive note, at least I managed to stay more in control of my emotions this week. I mean I did break down but not nearly as much as I have in previous sessions**

Don't Give Up, It's just the hurt that (I) hide

I realize that I've been complaining a lot lately both here and on Tumblr.  That I'm just so down and negative about things lately.

I really try to not let you guys know how much I'm hurting right now.  I try not to complain but I honestly feel I don't have much option right now.

I'm really struggling with things right now. I'm in therapy to help me out but sometimes I need another outlet. Sometimes I just need to get my thoughts and emotions out there and therefore, I have to write about it. That's the only other way  I feel I have right now. I don't have a friend here that I can just call up and have an empathic listener.  The Internet is my listener.

I realize that you all are getting tired of me complaining and everything. I don't mean to be annoying. I've been extremely grateful for any advice you've given me during this time and I promise you that I do listen to it. It may seem like I'm not but trust me I am.

I realize that you guys might feel like giving up on me. That you feel it's pointless to keep giving me advice when it seems like I'm not listening.

I'm trying. Believe it or not. I am trying. It may not seem like it but I really am. Please believe me even though it's hard to.

Things are significantly more complicated than I realized and aren't as simple fixes as one might tend to think. I've tried to make changes. I've tried making things work. It just hasn't worked out the way I've hoped.  It's one of the many things I'm currently dealing with.


All I'm asking is that you guys don't give up on me.  I've said this already on Tumblr and on my Twitter as well. I'm asking here as well.  Please don't give up on me.

Admittedly, I've given up on somethings already. I've given up on myself in some things. That doesn't mean you guys should too. 

I've had plenty of struggles as it is.. I already feel lonely and alone sometimes. I already feel that sometimes no one is there for me. Please don't make this true.

 I need someone to be there for me as I've been there for you.I realize I'm not making things easy for you but please keep trying.

Just don't give up on me. Please.

Bullied

It seems like something everyone goes through. Well, at least a lot of nerds go through.

Yes, I was bullied when I was younger.  I don't feel that it was as bad as some others have gone through but it's still something I went through.

I honestly can't remember if I've ever mentioned it on here before or not. In fact, I haven't really told many people. I'm pretty sure I've never told my family.

I guess the reason I've never told them is because nothing serious ever happened and I guess at the time, I just didn't see it as interfering with my life that much. It didn't really interfere with my life. I still acted the same. I still went about my normal life.

I'm sure that had things continued or gotten worse, I would have spoken up more. 

They really did nothing to physically hurt me or stop me from going to school.

To be honest, I do remember being a little more worried about walking home from school alone. That's it.  The other things was that it took place toward the end of the school year. It wasn't like it had been going on the whole year.  It was literally the last couple months of school when it happened.

I really don't remember much about the details but I'll try to explain as much as I can. 

I was in 7th grade at the time. 7th grade hadn't been too bad for me. I remember being worried about starting Junior High (although technically the school had changed to be Middle School by then. Just that year.) but it wasn't that bad. I made some friends. One being a girl I'd met at one of the Recreation Center's Summer Camp. Things were pretty good.

Then one day, I was walking home from school when I noticed a couple girls following me. I was pretty sure they were 8th graders since they were taller than me and looked older.  The girls followed me all the way. I didn't know who they were or why they would be following me. They followed me all the way to my house. They certainly made me nervous following me but I tried not to think too much about it.

Another day, I was walking home and again they followed me. Well, actually I guess you could say I followed them. They were in front of me.  They got to my house and sat down on the curb in front of our back gate. The gate, I normally went in to go inside the back door. I remember walking passed them on the opposite side of the street to get around them. I didn't want to ask them to move. I guess something just told me that they weren't very nice. Somehow I walked around them and went in the front door instead.

Another day, I remember walking home when they met up with me. Walking the same way I was. They said some things to me and pushed me a little bit. I guess really what they did was harass me a bit. I don't remember if I did or said anything in response. I don't think I did though.

I'm not entirely sure when this all took place. I'm not even sure if some of the things didn't happen the same day.

All I know is that these girls harassed me for unknown reasons. I remember sometime after the first time, they saw me at school along with another guy and they were just plain mean to me.  Harassing me for no apparent reason.

Why they went after me, I never did know. I guess I will never know.

I do remember supposedly they said, I'd said something mean to one of their boyfriends. Who that supposed boyfriend was, again, I don't know. Basically they were getting back at me for that reason. I honestly don't  even believe that was the real reason they were picking on me. They just did.

As for me supposedly saying something mean to someone, I honestly don't think I did. I'm just not a very mean person. If you know me now, you know I'm a nice person. I don't tend to say anything mean about someone.  I'm really nice and I know I've been that way for a long time.

I vaguely remember telling my friends about these people and eventually we learned their names. We actually learned their names when the yearbooks came out. I think it was when one of the 8th graders came into one of the 7th grade classrooms to have one of the teachers sign her yearbook that we learned one of their names. I remember one of my friends casually glancing at her yearbook and learning what the girl's name was. I don't know if I asked my friend to do that or not. I just remember her doing it and telling me later that the girl's name was Nicola. I somehow learned that the other girl's name was Courtney and that the guy's name was Ryan.  (I still remember their names because they are crossed out in my yearbook.)

 I remember going to the Principal after awhile because I know I didn't feel very safe. The girls had already laid their hands on me. They had shoved me a bit.Sure they hadn't really hurt me but I felt like they could.  I also vaguely remember them threatening me. 

Because it was toward the end of the school year when this happened, there wasn't much the principal could do. Especially since none of them had done any real harm to me. They were also 8th graders which meant that they would be moving on to the high school. I'm sure had I been in 6th grade and they'd been in 7th and had been doing this, I'm sure they would have continued the next year and then it wold have been more concerning.

Still at least I did tell someone even though she really couldn't help. They never did bother me again after school ended.

I still don't know why all of a sudden they decided to harass me or anything. Why it was me they decided to go after.

I guess that's the thing about bullies and bullying though.
There is no real reason they do it. They just do.

The thing is though, that I survived. Sure my experience isn't that bad but it's still an experience. It still had an effect on me.

 If someone is bullying you, tell someone. You don't have to take it. You are stronger than they are. Telling someone isn't a sign of weakness. It's a strength. It shows that you know this isn't right and something needs to be done. It's a power you have.

If you see someone else being bullied, speak up! It's hard to I know but it's not worth it to let someone else get hurt.

Bullying in any form is wrong. No one should have to feel like they are worthless. That they have to take it.

I've been through my share of struggles in life. I'm still struggling. But despite everything, I'm still going. Somehow I've made it through and you can too.  Things do get better.  It may take some time but they really do get better.

Addendum

This is an addendum to my post "When will my reflection show who I am inside?"

I'm writing another blog post on bullying and was searching through some of my old diary entries trying to see if I'd written about an incident in one of them when I came across something interesting.

I mentioned in yesterday's post how I've felt that I'm different and that people didn't really like me.
I also mentioned how my therapist wanted me to think about reasons why people probably didn't like me.

Well I found this interesting snippet from a diary entry dated September 9, 2000: "Rebekah told me that Sarah, Alycia, and Kelly think I'm weird. (September 12, 2000) But I don't know how or why they think I'm weird".  I guess I followed up a few days later and added that last part.

Sarah, Alycia, and Kelly were part of the group of girls in my Girl Scout Troop that didn't include me in things. They were the main 3 of the group but there were a few others that went along with them at Girl Scout meetings.

My (best) friend at the time was Rebekah and she got to be friends with Sarah, Alycia, and Kelly.  I guess I asked her to ask them about me. Why they didn't like me and I guess that was their response.

Simply because I was weird, they didn't like me? Why did they think I was weird? That much I never found out.  Like what specifically made them think I was weird?

Now that I think back on it, I'm pretty sure I've always been weird; different. I've said already how I've always felt different. I guess this is just proof right here. I guess I've just learned to embrace it by now although it certainly confused me when I was younger.

Anyways, I'm typing that entry up and taking it with me to my session next week. I'm sure my therapist will find it interesting like I did.

When will my reflection show who I am inside?

I just don't know anymore. It's that simple. I don't feel like I know who I am anymore. 

I just don't know. It's all complicated. Everything seems complicated. 

I don't want to complain anymore. I want to understand what it all means. 

I'm just tired of trying to make sense of everything. 

Prepare yourself for yet another long post where I mostly rant about things.

I had another therapy session today and as has become tradition, I broke down in tears again.
I just can't seem to make it through a session where I don't get emotional and break down in tears. One session. That's all I've been able to make it through. Just one and it was last semester.

I've tried so hard, believe me. I've tried calming myself down with music. Today I brought a smallfry bear to try and help me calm down too. Nothing. It's not that I mind. I'm sure it's helpful for my therapist. The tears seem to say more about how I feel about things than my words. If that makes sense. Yet, I just want one time where I can explain things calmly and without getting my emotions involved.

Like I said though, I'm sure it's better for me to show emotion. It probably helps my therapists better. If I didn't show emotion, they might be more concerned about my well-being. Still though.
I don't get why I get so emotional every time. Do I just get so worked up over everything that finally when I have someone there to listen to me, I just break down? I've admitted before that I've been nervous going. For what reasons, I'm not entirely sure. But could it be that I get so anxious and nervous that I just break down becuase of it? In other words do  I bring this all on myself?  Possibly.

I'll admit that I'm a bit of an emotional wreck right now. Just a lot of things going on both emotionally and mentally. As always therapy makes me think about things and I'm certainly doing that.

I'm also a bit frustrated right now because I thought I was going to get financial aid this semester but I'm not. I don't have enough hours to qualify. I'm supposed to have at least 5 hrs which is considered half-time for a grad student.   I'm taking 1 course which is 3 hrs plus Capstone. The Registrar only says I'm taking the 3 hrs. It doesn't count Capstone.  However, I was explained that Capstone would count by my department. They weren't sure on how many hrs it would count though. So I went and talked to Financial Aid. Turns out I would have to go to the Library Science department to get them to do something about Capstone counting. It seemed to be a complicated process in my opinion. Not only that, I'd have to get all this figured out before 5pm which is when payment is due. I pretty much just gave up and ended up paying for the whole thing. Luckily I had enough money to do it though. Still, it's pretty frustrating when I thought everything was already figured out.

Then I had a phone call from my mom while I was in therapy. Of course, I couldn't answer but I called her back afterwards.  I was still in an emotional state after my session. I wasn't exactly happy and was still trying to make sense of everything that was discussed.  She asked if I had gotten the financial aid thing sorted out which I said I had. Then she asked if I had gone to the Career Center. AGAIN! She's asked before.NO I HAVEN'T!! IT'S NOT IN THE SAME AREA AS MY THERAPY!! AND THERE'S NO WAY I'M WALKING ALL THE WAY ACROSS CAMPUS JUST TO GO TO IT WHEN I REALLY DON'T WANT TO GO IN THE FIRST PLACE!!

Sorry about that but it's just really annoying right now. It's really not that far away across campus. But it is an extra trip that I'm just not anxious to make anytime soon.  Look, it's one of the things I'm dealing with. I understand that I'm about to graduate and will have to actually get a job. But that's just it. I'm not anxious about it. I'm not quite ready to do that. Truth be told, I'm not sure I really want to get a job. I do and I don't. It's complicated. I'm terrified. I really am. Graduation scares me this time. This is it for me. I'm going to be out in the real world and I just don't feel like I'm ready.

Because of this, I'm really not anxious to look for a job. I'm not motivated enough to do so. I don't really want to even though I know I should be diligently looking. I realize that my family is trying to help me and they want me to use the resources I'm given but they don't really understand what I'm going through. They think I can just get over it but they don't realize that there's more it. There a reason I'm so reluctant about doing it.  It's one of the things I'm trying to sort through in therapy right now. I'm sorry I got a bit angry at my mom over it but I'm just tired. I'm tired of hearing the same things. I know what I have to get done. I know this. It's the motivation to do it that I'm struggling with.  I'm tired of feeling pressured by them to get these things done which is what it feels like whenever they mention it.

They need to realize that I'm an adult and that I'll make my own decisions. Although, admittedly, I don't really want to feel like an adult yet. I don't really want to make those decisions. Again, it's complicated.

Today in my session, I brought up several of the things I've blogged about recently. Again, sometimes I wish I could just send a link to my therapist and have her read my blog posts because sometimes I feel like they explain so much more that I could ever do in person. Things would make more sense. Honestly though, I'm also a bit concerned about if I were to do that. I'm just concerned that things might be taken differently than I intended. That maybe I'd frighten my therapist and create cause for alarm or something. Like perhaps I'd be a more serious case. Still though, I'm sure if they could read this blog, it would give them so much insight.

 I brought up the "Cry baby" thing and the "Cinco de Mayo" memory.  Things that didn't seem like much separately but have more in common than I might have originally thought.

During our conversation, I also brought up how I've pretty much always felt like people didn't like me; that I've always felt different and a bit of an outsider.  I said that people just don't like me for some reason. Like they judged me when they didn't really know me. That they labeled me "Crybaby" for some reason.  I told her about the Recreation Center and about Girl Scouts.



I wasn't trying to make it sound like no one likes me but I feel like that's what it sounded like. I want to clarify. I know people like me. There are people that like me for who I am. I know this. My thing is that growing up, people left me out of things for unknown reasons. They made fun of me and just didn't seem to like me for some reason or other.

My therapist wants me to think of some reasons why perhaps people didn't like me. Or reasons, why I feel they didn't like me. Honestly, I wish I could think of things because I really don't know. Other than the whole "Crybaby" thing, I really don't know why.  I guess I just always figured that it had to do something with the fact that I did cry a lot that no one wanted to be friends with me.  (Now that I think about it, maybe I was sad simply because I didn't have many friends. Who knows?)

Then again, maybe it's for reasons I've explained before but will explain again. I was born to older parents for one. Being such, I just seemed to be a bit more mature than many of my classmates. Well in terms of thinking. I thought differently than they did. I guess you could say I was a bit more intelligent in my thinking.  As it was, my 1st and  last piano teacher(same teacher both times),  remember me using big words such as "confused" when I was first taking piano lessons in 3rd grade. To her using "confused" in the correct context at that age was usual. I mean, how many 3rd graders would use that word correctly?  Perhaps this is a reason people didn't like me.

Then again perhaps, I'm just different. My personality is just different from everyone. I have strong reason to believe and some pretty strong evidence to suggest that my personality type is INFJ. This is according the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator. Based on my own personal research, I believe this is the my personality type. Time and time again, I've researched information about INFJ's and time and time again, the information describes me quite accurately. I'm not trying to make it fit me either. The information fits of it's own accord. Even some of the common careers of INFJ's fit me. For instance: Teacher, Librarian, Musician, and in one instance: Dentist are all listed. I'm a Musician (Piano) already although not a professional one. My undergrad degree was Elementary Education; a teacher. I'm about to finish my Master's degree in Library Science to become a Librarian. Finally, for the longest time growing up, I wanted to be a Dentist. If that doesn't say something about my personality than I don't know what else does.

It's not just the careers either. There are some descriptions regarding INFJ's as people that is creepily accurate: "INFJs also have a talent for language and are usually quite good at expressing themselves on paper. ...In school, INFJs are usually high achievers and get good grades. They can be perfectionists at times and tend to put a great deal of effort into their academic work. INFJs enjoy learning, particularly about people, society, literature and art" (from About.com). 

How scary accurate is that little description?! Seriously?! This is totally me. I've been told I am good at expressing myself on paper by numerous people. I'm definately a high acheiver and have always gotten good grades. I've only ever had a few C's (and 1 D but it was in a weighted AP class so counted regular it was a C) in my entire schooling. The rest were A's and B's.  As for being a perfectionist, well, yeah I admit I tend to be.

 If this isn't my personality type, then I don't know what is.  As far as I know, I've never been formally tested for my personality type. At least not that I remember. How I discover my personality type was based on a simply 4 question test my friends reblogged on Tumblr. (One question for each of the characteristics). Now I know this simple test is probably not enough to determine that this is my personality but I did read the question descriptions carefully and selected the one I felt best fit me. Plus the extensive research I've done on my own has certainly seemed to confirm to me that this is my personality type. According to some of the descriptions I've read, INFJ is the rarest type and it's even rarer among females. According to one of the descriptions I read,  many INFJ's feel alianated in the world. They feel different from everyone else. I certainly feel that way a lot. It seems that no matter what I do, there's always a part of me that feels different; a part of me that never really "fits in".

So perhaps it's just simply because of my personality type that no one likes me. Perhaps they've just always sensed that something was different about me.

I honestly am starting to wonder if perhaps I do have a bit of Depression. Not to the extreme or anything but I do wonder if I do have a little bit of it. There are times when I just get really down and can't seem to get myself out of it. I feel so alone and like nothing is going right. Sometimes it just feels like no one is listening. It wouldn't surprise me if I did have a bit of depression. Especially since one of my family members does have it. So perhaps I do have it to a lesser extent. Sometimes it feels almost like I'm more like my family member than I realized.
 
I realize this post is getting to be really long but that's what happens when I've got a lot on my mind and need to get it all out.

Finally (for now), I've just been feeling so alone on the Internet. I have friends on the Internet (a few of them are also IRL friends) but it feels as though lately they've been so busy with their own lives that they don't get online much anymore. I understand this really I do. As it is, I've had times where I don't get online nearly as much as I used to.  I'm not blaming them either. They have lives outside of the Internet which is great. I'm glad they do.

Sometimes though, it just feels like no one is around when I need them. Which I know isn't true. I have some of their numbers and could either call or text them if I really wanted to. I know they are there for me if I need them. But lately, when I've felt so lonely and have gotten online, it feels like they aren't there for me. It feels like they aren't there for me when I need them. Almost like they don't care that I'm lonely. Again, I know this isn't true. It's just what goes through my head when I get this way (yet another reason I feel that I might actually have some Depression).  It's just sometimes, the Internet has never felt so lonely to me. If that makes any sense.  It's like there's all these people out in cyberspace, yet no one to talk to.

As for this post title, I just feel as though sometimes I really don't know who I am anymore. I don't even know how to respond when people ask me "how are you doing?".That if I answer "fine", I'm lying. Because I'm really not fine. I feel like I'm masking the truth. That I'm not fine at all. That things are just more complicated than I originally thought.  Not as fine as I thought. Sometimes it feels like I'm just smiling to hide all the pain that I'm really feeling.

I'm just wanting to find who I really am. To get that me back again all fixed up and feeling normal again. (Or as normal as I can be because let's face it, I'm just simply not normal).

Crybaby

It's taken me a awhile to write a post about this. It's not a easy thing at all to write because it takes me back to times in my life that have been unhappy.

However, I feel in a way, it explains why I am the way I am in situations. Namely why I can't seem to make it through a therapy session without breaking down in some way.

Maybe it explains it. I don't know.

As you all know because I've said it enough on here, when I was younger I struggled to make friends.

I still struggle to make friends. It hasn't really changed.

I'm not sure why I've struggled to make friends but I do and I did.

I've almost always been different. Felt different from many of my classmates. My mom  always said that it could have been because I was more mature than most of my classmates.  I thought differently than they did. In a way, I seemed to be more "advanced" in my thinking than most of my classmates.

I remember trying to make friends but having problems. I remember feeling like I was being left out of things. That people just didn't really like me. Well, my classmates I mean.

I don't remember when but at some point, I was labeled "Crybaby".  I remember being younger and yes, I did cry quite a bit. I guess I felt that was the only way I could react to things. I didn't know how to react to things, so I cried and got upset that way.

Somewhere along the way, that was how I was labeled by my classmates. That's how they thought of me.

I don't know if this necessarily contributed to some of the reasons why people didn't like me but it wouldn't surprise me if it did.

I guess I was just a very emotional type of person. I guess I still am one. It's just who I am.

Maybe my classmates didn't understand it and that's why they labeled me a "Crybaby".

It wasn't that I cried all the time. I mean I did cry probably more than necessary and eventually, I grew up and essentially grew out of it. Well, mostly.

But the name stuck. I don't even think it was a name given to me simply because I cried a lot though. I was labeled "Crybaby" at the Recreation Center but I don't believe it was simply because I cried. In fact, I didn't really cry that much. I'm pretty sure it had partially to do with the fact that I told the program counselors when I was being picked on. Not that it made much of a difference. I was still picked on and still considered an outcast. The name stuck and I guess that's just how I came to be known.

I remember visiting the Recreation Center a few years after I'd stopped going. A couple of friends of mine and I had decided to visit the pool and go swimming. While heading into the locker room to change, I  saw a girl I recognized from the Recreation Center program. One of the ones that had made fun of me. I know she saw me and remembered me. As we went into the locker room,  I overheard the girl say to someone "You know Ronda is the biggest crybaby in the world". Of course that hurt my feelings.  I remember feeling confused and hurt. I remember wondering what I'd ever done to the girl to have her call me names like that.

I've grown to really hate the word "Crybaby" and I hate how it seems that I was labeled that way. It's still hard for me to hear the word and not react. I have a hard time even saying it sometimes.

Sometimes as much as I hate it, I feel like I am one. I feel like I am a Crybaby. Sometimes it's the only way I feel I can describe myself. It's sometimes the way I see myself.

Just because I'm an emotional type of person though, doesn't mean that I'm a Crybaby. Just because I happen to be an emotional person  is no reason to call me names and label me. It doesn't give you or anyone the right to make me feel bad about who I am.

I hate being called a Crybaby. I hate that I'm labeled that way. I'm just being who I am.

If only I could believe that it's not me. It's not who I am.

If only I could stand up for who I really am in real life like I seem to be able to do online.

If only it was that simple. 

A Cinco de Mayo memory

I have a memory from a Cinco de Mayo that I would like to share. It's not the memory from this last Cinco de Mayo where I ended up in the hospital with appendicitis. That will certainly be a day I remember. It's a memory from High School.

I'm not entirely sure what brought this memory up but I figured I'd share it.

When I was in 10th grade, a sophomore in High School, I was part of the Hispanic Pride Club.  The club was basically a Ballet Folklorico club where we learned dances and performed them at various events and places around town: The ICC Fiesta, Elementary schools, the Zoo, and even the Public Library.

I enjoyed the club for the most part. I enjoyed learning the dances and I would have to say, I got to be pretty good at them. Good enough that even to this day, I can still perform some of the dances.

I've even performed a couple dances at a library event even though I was no longer part of the club at the time.

I even got one of my then friends to join the club and we had fun together.

The only hiccup I found with the whole thing was the Cinco de Mayo event that was held at the High School after I had joined.

There had always been more girls in the club than guys so many times, there would be a couple girls paired up together for the dances. This didn't bother any of us and I was typically one of the one that didn't have a guy partner. 

So for all the dances, I was pretty much used to not having a guy for a partner. But this became a bit of a problem when it came to the Cinco de Mayo performance at the high school.

Prior to this event, we had all learned a Salsa dance which unlike the rest of the dances I learned while in the club, I do not remember. 

We had special red dresses made and everything and we would only be performing this dance at the Cinco de Mayo program at the high school. I struggled to learn the dance. But I managed to learn it in time. During the time we were learning the dance,  a couple of us girls would partner up.

It was explained that during the program, we would simply go out into the audience and find a guy to dance with.  I was already nervous about having to do this in the first place.

So finally the day of the program comes. We perform a couple of dances in our Ballet Folklorico dresses and then we rush to an area under the bleachers to quickly change into our Salsa dresses.

Three of us girls didn't have partners, me, my friend, and another girl. We already knew that we had to find a partner in the audience. It was horrible. While the rest of the group began dancing, we went looking in the audience for someone to ask to dance with. It was horrible. My friend and the other girl quickly found partners. I couldn't find anyone who would dance with me.

It was so terrible. I hated having to ask someone in the first place and then not being able to find someone was just terrible. I saw a guy from one of my classes and I asked him. He of course said no. I don't remember if I asked someone else although I'm pretty sure I asked at least a couple people I recognized.  But they all said no.

I remember returning to the guy and almost begging him to dance with me. I vaguely remember grabbing him by the arm and trying to drag him onto the floor (although I'm not entirely sure if I did this). I was pretty desperate and was starting to fill horrible.

Finally after seeing that I wasn't going to get someone, our club sponsor came over and danced with me. I just remember feeling extremely mortified and embarrassed and feeling like I was close to tears.  It felt like my face was red. The fact that no one wanted to dance with me made me just feel awful. Like I wasn't good enough. It's not like I had a crush on the guy either. I just needed a dance partner and I thought he would help me out. I thought someone would help me out but I was wrong.

We changed back into our dresses afterwards and finished our performance. How I was able to go back out and perform is still something I can't figure out. I guess I just figured, the show must go on.

 It was definitely something that put a damper in the day's festivities. The rest of the day went pretty well. We performed at some Elementary Schools: La Luz and Yucca and also a retirement home. I know that after the high school performance, I wasn't feeling too cheery but I guess I got over it enough.

Why I remembered this now, I don't know.  Maybe it's just to further point out how I don't feel that I'm all that attractive with the way the guy turned me down. Maybe it's just to show that I've always felt like I wasn't part of something.

And I wasn't. Even though I was in this group and we all were pretty friendly to each other, again I never really felt part of them. I was always feeling "different", left out of things when I was around the group. I always found myself talking more to our sponsor (my parents knew her before I even joined) than the rest of the group.

Not that I need anymore evidence to back up why I'm the way I am. My life hasn't been easy. I've had my share of struggles. 

I just wanted to share this memory with you. Just something that popped in my head. Thanks for reading. 

Coming of age parties

Tonight at mass, we had a young girl celebrating her quince años or 15 years. It's a traditional Hispanic celebration where a girl of 15 becomes a young women.

Well, it's traditional in many Hispanic cultures and something many Hispanics do but I certainly didn't.

I witnessed the mass part of a Quinceañera and I have to saw that if that's all it really is, I don't really see the point of having one in the first place. All that happened during the mass was that the girl renewed her baptism promises and then said a special prayer of thanks in Spanish. That's it.

Perhaps I don't really know much about what happens but for me, it doesn't seem like much. Look just because I'm Hispanic, doesn't mean I know everything about things that my culture does.

I realize that a lot of times, a Quinceañera has a mass that isn't part of the normal Saturday mass so that's probably why this one seemed different. Perhaps at a separate mass, there is more involved. Also, I do know that a Quinceañera involves a big party though in addition to a mass. The party to me seems more important. I know there are traditional things that are supposed to be done at a party.I also know that a Quinceañera involves asking some guys and girls to be part of a special court or something. But I have no other information than that. I don't know what these traditional things are or anything.

The point is that I don't really understand the point of the whole thing to begin with. 

I remember when I was 15 my parents asked me if I wanted a Quinceañera. I said no. They didn't really push it on me either.  While we are Hispanic, we've never really stuck to that part of our culture if that makes sense. In other words, we didn't exactly ignore our Hispanic culture but we didn't celebrate it all that much. I mean we didn't really celebrate traditional Mexican holidays or anything nor did we speak Spanish at home. My parents have said they regretted not speaking Spanish at home when my brother and I were growing up. Honestly though, I didn't mind and still don't mind. They raised us the way they wanted to raise us.

I never really grew up knowing what a Quinceañera was nor did I ever seem to want one.  By the time I was old enough, I knew somewhat what it involved but I didn't want one. My parents considered it a waste of money really but they still asked.

Similarly to a Quinceañera, many girls have a Sweet 16 party which is just as big it seems in American culture as the Quinceañera is in Latin American culture. However, once again when I was 16 my parents asked me if I wanted a big party and again I turned it down.

I did have a cousin who at first was going to have a  Quinceañera but then ended up having a Sweet 16 party instead. 

I just really wasn't interested in such big coming of age parties. Sure I had parties but they were smaller and just with a few friends. When I was younger, I had a couple big parties where I invited all my classmates. But that was of course when I was younger.

When I got older I just didn't have nearly as big of parties. In fact, the last actual party I had was when I was turning 13 or 14. It was a bowling party and it was just a few of my friends that were invited.   After that party, I just had a small party at home with my family. I didn't really even want a party with my friends. Of course there was  also the fact that I didn't really have that many friends anymore.

For me, the idea of such big parties as a Quinceañera or a Sweet 16 were just daunting; impractical.
They both involved inviting a bunch of people. For me, I could see where a Quinceañera would be alright because that  seems to be more of a family thing anyways unlike with a Sweet 16 party.

I'm sure if I'd had a Quinceañera, many of my relatives would have come. But supposedly you also have to have some sort of court thing with guys and other girls. Friends mostly.
The thing is that I didn't have many friends in the first place and if I'm supposed to have a certain amount (7 pairs according to Wikipedia), I would have a hard time finding enough people to meet the amount. I don't know that many people. I didn't even have that many friends that were guys! I only had 1 or 2 that I really considered friends!

As for a Sweet 16 party, to me that also seems to involve a ton of people. That one seems to be more a party for friends if you have a lot of friends which I definitely didn't.  I was never popular to have a lot of people to invite to things. I realize it might not have mattered. I could have just had a small celebration with a few close friends. But I didn't and I didn't seem to want one.

I guess the thing is that after awhile, I started preferring celebrations with my family rather than with my friends. That's still the way it is today.  I'd much rather celebrate with my family and I do. In my family we try to celebrate everyone's birthday by doing something special. I love my family celebrations. I guess I always have even when  I had parties with my friends.

Now being that I'm away from home, I try to do special things to celebrate by myself. I usually treat myself to a couple meals and go out for dessert. Most of the time, the meals are paid for with money sent to me by family and close family friends.   That's just how I do it now.

Again, I don't have anyone to celebrate with otherwise things might be different. I don't have any friends close by to celebrate with.

I guess I just don't see the point of such big celebrations as Quinceañera or a Sweet 16 party. Not unless you are really into cultural tradition or if you really have a reason to.

Self--defense

There's is a women's self-defense course being offered through the Parks and Recreation. It's scheduled to take place at North Lakes Recreation Center.

Today I went in to sign up for the class which is scheduled to begin on Monday. However, they ended up having to put me on a waitlist due to the fact that only 3 people were registered so far.  There's a really good chance that this first class won't make the numbers needed to hold the class.

Which is upsetting for me. There's still other self-defense classes offered for later but I was hoping to attend this first one.

I've been really interested in taking a self-defense class. I've been wanting to take one for some time but just never have. My family has recommended that I take one too.

I feel like I should especially after what happened. The thing is that I need this class.  After what happened, I can't help be feel leery about people. I get nervous a bit more now I feel.

I can't help but think if I had already taken a self-defense course before, would things have been different. The thing is that I was taken advantage of by someone. Thankfully nothing serious happened.

However, I can't help but think sometimes if something worse could have happened. As much as it causes me anxiety to even think about what happened. It causes me to feel guilty and a whole range of emotions. The whole thing traumatized me. 

I still find it difficult to talk about what happened to people. Although it has gotten a bit easier the more I do talk about it.

I do wonder though if something worse could have happened. Perhaps this was just the first step.  I don't know.

The fact is that I felt like I was taken advantage of which gives me even more motivation for wanting to take a Self-defense class.  I honestly just don't feel very safe anymore after that. I feel like I can't trust any random guy that comes up to me. I get nervous whenever I'm in a parking lot somewhere and a solo guy happens to be close by to me.

The thing is I feel like I need this class to help me get over some of my fears. To help me feel better; help me feel safer.  To help me finally not feel so helpless.

I also feel that by taking a self-defense class, that maybe it will help me with my confidence issues. Maybe by learning some of the things to defend myself, I will also gain confidence.

 I hope this class makes or that I can attend the next one. I really need this class and not only for the self-defense.

Writer envy

I've mentioned before how sometimes I'm concerned about my own individual writing style and if it's interesting enough for people. 

I've been thinking about this a lot lately. I can't help but feel a bit jealous toward a blogger I secretly follow. It's Twitter girl if your wondering. Despite everything, I still read her blog posts because I'm interested in them. Her writing interests me. It just can't be denyed that she's a good writer and her posts interest me.

I'm jealous of her writing ability actually. I shouldn't be though and yet I can't help but feel some pangs of jealousy.

I know I'm a good writer. But yet I can't help but feel inferior in comparison to the other person.

Here's a sentence from one of her blog posts: My childhood was shattered glass, bare feet, and blindness. 

This isn't even a sentence from her most recent blog post either. It's just wonderful how she describes things. This is how she writes.  Her blog posts are stories. Actual stories. You can picture what she's talking about from her sentences. They just somehow flow together in such a way that I feel like I've been unable to achieve in my blog posts.

In comparison, this is a sentence showing my style: My bridge certainly is long and difficult. At times it may seem like it'll crumble at any moment but it remains strong standing the weight of time.

This is taken from my blog post titled "Cross the Bridge or Fade Away?" I had to search a bit to find a sentence that I felt even compares and I still feel like it doesn't weigh up.   

Honestly, I feel that someone were to read just those two sentences and then decide which blog to read just based on them, mine wouldn't get picked first. Sometimes, I wonder if I would even pick my own blog to read if I didn't know it was mine (if that makes any sense).
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I don't really get why I feel some jealousy toward her writing ability. Why I can't just accept my own writing ability.

It's not like I don't understand that everyone has a different writing style regardless of it's writing blogs or writing poetry or even stories.  I get that.

I get that people has different interests in what they want to read as well and maybe my style really is interesting to people.

I don't see it though.

And that's probably the whole problem.

I write mostly for myself but at the same time I do want to at least appeal to people. I feel like my descriptions of things are descriptive but not in the sense like hers. Her descriptions appear more  "story-like" than mine. They seem to appeal more to the senses. I described things with detail. I describe sights but not really emotions; not really appealing to the other senses so much.

Then again, I'm making judgements based on her ability to write interesting blog posts. Perhaps she's not such a good writer with other things.  Although, I highly doubt that.

Sure she may have the ability to write interesting blog posts but what about poetry or even stories?  Has she ever won an essay contest or even have had a professor ask to use an assignment as an example in future classes?  Probably not.

Look, the thing is this. I shouldn't be envious of her ability to write blog posts when I have plenty of proof to show that I, myself am a good writer outside of the internet.

I guess part of the problem though is that I don't know about my writing when it comes to online. I feel so anonymous. Lost in an ocean of other blog posts.  I don't know if what I say has any interest.

It would just be nice if someone, somewhere would let me know they're interested in what I have to say.  I'm just really looking for a little assurance. (I'm finding out I'm someone that needs to hear that).

I have trouble taking pride in my own abilities. I don't give myself enough credit for my own talents and accomplishments. I always think I'm not good enough; that there is always someone I feel is better than me even if perhaps they really aren't.  I guess this is just another one of those times.

She might be a good writer. But so am I!

I just need to convince myself that I truly am one.

Everything is NOT as ok as it seems

Today was my first therapy session of the semester.   Well I guess it was my first session. It's a bit confusing actually.  They called it an intake appointment and it's with a new therapist.  I still had paperwork to fill out. Basically the same paperwork I filled out the very first time I came to the clinic a year ago.  But unlike the first time, the therapist didn't take notes down when we talked (unless she's just that good and doesn't need to write things down? That's possible) Also unlike the first time,  it looks like I'm going to be seeing this same therapist from now on.  I guess it's also because I've been there before that things are different this time. Then again, things still might end up changing and I may end up seeing someone else. I don't think so but who really knows. 

So now that I've already bored everyone, let's move on to the main point of this post which is I'm apparently not doing as well as I thought I was. 

Honestly prior to today's session, I wasn't entirely sure if I still needed therapy. I've been debating going back to the clinic since the end of May.  Since my last session with my therapist then. I didn't come right out and ask her if I should come back. I guess I should have. But I didn't and I debated with the thought of coming back off and on during the summer.

I felt that things had certainly gotten better for me. I honestly felt that while things weren't exactly perfect, I felt I would be ok to continue on my own. I felt, in a way, that I'd be able to handle things again.  I'm not going to lie. I still had some things that I felt I could discuss and work on but I didn't think they were that  pressing.

Somewhere during the summer though, I decided it would be a good idea to go back to therapy.  Mostly because I was starting to panic over graduating and having to get a job. Add to that the fact, that I have ongoing confidence issues and I guess I just thought going back might be best for me. 

Even despite all that, knowing that it would be a good idea,  that I still had some unresolved issues, I still wasn't entirely convinced that I really needed to go back to therapy.  It's not that I was afraid to go back. It's not that I was ashamed or anything like that. I guess I just really thought I was doing ok.
Well as ok as I could be I mean.

Even up until today's session, I wasn't sure what we'd discuss. I wasn't sure if I really had anything that I needed to discuss.  At least that's how I felt.

I was strangely nervous about going today. More nervous than I thought I would. For what reason, I have no idea. Still though, I didn't feel sad or anything. I felt fine. Really I did. I wouldn't exactly say I was cheerful but I was happy enough.

Then I got into the session and the therapist asked me "How are things going?" and I guess that was just it. I mean, I started off fine. I explained the main reason reason for me being back was because I still had some unresolved issues.  That the main reasons I was there this time was because of fear of graduation and my lack of confidence.

Almost right away, I did get a bit emotional I'll admit but I felt like I was going to be alright.  I don't know if it was simply because of nerves or what.  However, it soon became apparent that it wasn't as simple for me not to get emotional.  I tried so hard to not break down. But I eventually did. 
 
I guess that's just proof right there that perhaps I'm not doing as fine as I tell myself or than I originally thought.  I'm not really not fine.

I feel like I've been lying to myself, to my family, to everyone when they've asked me how I'm doing.  

"I'm fine. I'm doing fine." 

I feel like I've said it so much that I've actually starting believing it.  I don't know when I started doing this. Why I can't just truly be fine.  Why I can't just admit that I'm really not fine.

At the same time, I feel like I am fine. I mean things have certainly gotten better.  Then again, maybe that's just another lie I'm telling myself. When in reality, I'm still just as lonely as ever. I still lack confidence.  I'm still unhappy here. The fact that even after 2 years of living here, nothing has really changed in terms of my social life.  That I'd rather not come back after break because I feel I really have no need to.

I'm not as fine as I thought. In a way, it feels as though I'm just masking my problems. Like I'm making them seem like they aren't a big deal. That I'm simply just dealing with them even though I'm not really dealing with them.  That I'm just telling myself that everything is getting better.

I guess I've also just started to accept the fact that I'm just a complicated person. That maybe I've always been. That nothing is ever going to be fixed completely. Like maybe I've just come to accept that I've got problems. Maybe that's why I felt like I didn't really need to go back. Maybe I just thought and felt as though I'm just going to be the way I am. That maybe there's not much that can be done no matter how much I try.

Then again, everything is not as it seems. I guess my problems are just more extensive than I thought. That after thinking and reacting a certain way for so long, it's become part of me and is harder to changer. After all, they say old habits die hard.

So I guess what I should be saying is that  I'm not doing ok. I haven't been doing ok for a long time.  But I hope things will be someday.

On being/becoming a Nerdfighter

Nerdfighter (n): 1. a person who instead of being made up of cells and organs and stuff is actually made out of awesome. 2. A dedicated follower of the vlogbrothers.


I am a nerdfighter and an extremely proud one at that. It's not something I'm ashamed of at all. I'm happy to tell people I'm a nerdfighter.  I'm not a perfect nerdfighter nor do I claim to be. I know I'm not a perfect nerdfighter. We are all imperfect. We all have our faults.

 I got to thinking about being a Nerdfighter today and how different things might be had I not become one. My life would be so much different. I guarantee I wouldn't even be the same person I am today. I probably would be worse off now.

I discovered the Vlogbrothers and Nerdfighters back in 2007. A friend of mine, whom I'd met a couple summers previously at Shuttle Camp, sent me a link to via Instant Messenger of "Accio Deathly Hallows" a couple days after the book release (if only she had found it and sent it before, who knows what would have happened!) . I watched the video and fell instantly in love with the song.  Since I didn't have anything better to do I started clicking on some of the other video links on the sidebar.  I saw John's video responding to comments and thought it was hilarious! Something about Hank and John just really intrigued me and I found them entertaining so I subscribed and began watching. The rest is history

Not long after subscribing, I went back and watched Brotherhood 2.0 from the beginning and discovered what "Nerdfighters" were.  I had already considered myself a nerd and naturally just adopted this new term for what I was.  I got really into the Nerdfighter community which at that time was still relatively new.  I discovered John Green was a YA author and read his books. I kept up watching the videos and even participating in some of the projects/challenges/punishment suggestions/etc.

Then in 2008, the Tour de Nerdfighting took place. I was in Stillwater, OK at the time and when I saw that John and Hank were going to be in Oklahoma City, just about an hour's drive away, I knew I had to go. The problem was that I didn't know my way around the city. I didn't know very many people in the area either. So I reached out via the message boards at the Nerdfighter ning. Asking for help and seeing what other people where planning to go. I didn't know any of them but it really didn't matter. The fact was there were other nerdfighters around and I was just excited to be part of them.

A nerdfighter by the name of Travis responded to my request for help. He told me directions of how to get to the library. He even told me a place where he and some of his friends were planning to meet up at and said I could join them if I wanted and we could all walk to the library together. Little did I know this same guy would later become one of my best friends.

Well, unfortunately even with a GPS, I'm still pretty inept when it came to getting to the library much less getting to the place Travis told me they were going to be parking/meeting at.  I got lost and couldn't find anyone around or even a place to park nearby the library. I didn't want to walk around alone downtown either.  Eventually though, I found a parking spot close to the library and everything was ok from that point on.

The event was awesome of course and I did meet people. It was just a whole lot of fun. At the time of the event, the room was already packed. This was just in 2008. I couldn't imagine what that same even would be like now.  I have video footage of the whole event thanks to my laptop and its webcam which I had brought with me.

Afterwards, many of us nerdfighters hung around for the meet and greet and signing and pictures. While waiting, a guy (Travis, but I didn't know it was him at the time!) asked a group of us to pose for a picture. I think I remember suggesting that we  all do the nerdfighter sign which we totally did.

Later on Facebook,  the guy uploaded the photos to the Tour de Nerdfighter Event page for Oklahoma City which I had said I was attending. His name was Travis. The same Travis that had sent me directions earlier. He told us to tag ourselves in the picture he'd taken, so  I did.  I also remember sending him a friend request which he accepted. After all, he was a fellow Oklahoma nerdfighter. I just thought it would be nice to know another nerdfighter.

Travis and I didn't talk much after that except occasionally. Then when I moved to Denton and found out ALL CAPS would be performing in OKC as part of the Triple Rainbow Awesome Tour, I again, couldn't turn it down. I was going to be attending and learned Travis was going to be attending (again thanks to the Event page). Again, I didn't know OKC very well and was concerned. But because we had at least met once before, we decided to do meet up at Travis's apartment and carpool to the event.

I was nervous because I didn't know really know Travis but everything was fine. We met up with a couple other nerdfighter friends, one of them being Erin, the other Jeremiah, and carpooled to the event together.  While at the event, we met up with another friend Kate. Afterwards, we all went to Whataburger and just hung out.  Then we exchanged numbers and I drove back to Denton where I  sent friend requests to Erin and Kate and they accepted.  I later discovered that they were also at the Tour de Nerdfighting event and that they were both in the same picture Travis had taken. So in reality I'd met them already before even though I didn't remember doing so!  About a week later, we met up again for a Wrock concert at another library.

Pretty much from then on, we became friends. Meeting up again in December for a little party and film a Project for Awesome video together and deciding to start a collab channel together. Then again when Maureen Johnson came and again for the Texas State Fair and Karaoke and for another Wrock show.

So now I have really awesome Nerdfighter friends and it's all because of Nerdfighteria that I have such awesome friends or have done some of the awesome things I have done.

If it wasn't for Nerdfighteria and Nerdfighters, I would never have found such good friends. Sure I probably would have found friends but it wouldn't be the same. 

I would never have met Hank or John Green or even The Katherine who are all such amazing people both online and in person.

I never would have gotten the opportunity to go Go-Karting with Maureen Johnson! MAUREEN JOHNSON!! A POPULAR YA AUTHOR!

I wouldn't have met Kristina Horner or Luck Conrad or Lauren Fairweather or Matt Maggiacomo in person!

While I'm pretty sure I'd  still be obsessed with libraries, books, and Harry Potter, I don't  think I would have met the kind of people that I have or read the books that I have.  I've met people who shared my love for things simply because they were nerdfighters first.

I probably wouldn't be nearly as proud as I am to claim I'm a nerd. I've known I was a nerd for a long time. I accepted it but really it's thanks to Nerdfighteria and the Green Brothers that I'm so happy to claim I am one. They made it cool to be a nerd.

Basically if it wasn't for Nerdfighters and Nerdfighteria, my life wouldn't be as awesome as it is.

Thank you Hank and John Green and Nerdfighteria.  Thank you for everything.

Where are all the young people?

After such a long post the other day,  I'm going to try and keep this one relatively short. I'm pretty sure it will be.

Ever since moving here to Denton, I've been going to one of the local Catholic Churches; Immaculate Conception.  It was  the first one that my parents and I found and it's the one I've continued to gone to ever since.

It's a beautiful church. The priests are nice. It's really a good church.

But there is one problem that I've noticed; A pattern that quickly emerged not long after I began attending mass there.  A pattern that has continued to make itself known every time I've go to Saturday evening mass.

There are not a lot of young people that attend.

I'm referring to college students mostly. People around my age.
Where are all the young people at?

Most of the people that attend the masses at ICC are familes or older adults. There are the occasional young people but not enough to make me feel happy. 

It's not just the Saturday evening mass that I've seen this pattern at either. On the (rare) occasion that I've attended the 8:30AM mass on Sunday, I've seen the same. There's not a lot of young people around.

There must be some because the church has a Young Adult ministry (although this seemed to have only developed last year) which is for people around my age and older. But I haven't seen very many people.

I've even tried attending the other Catholic church across town, St Marks, to see if the audience was different there. Not really. There still didn't seem to be a lot of young adults there either.

Again, they have a Young Adult ministry and I've been to a couple of their events. In fact, I liked the St. Marks Young Adult ministry better. They seem to do more fun stuff unlike ICC's group. They have game nights and go bowling in addition to religious events. ICC's group seems to focus mostly on the religious stuff. Although, I can't really make a clear judgement since I've only attended a couple events and there really hasn't been that many events in the first place. But there weren't many people that attended the events either. Also, a lot of the other young adults were quite a bit older than me and many of them were married and had families. Not exactly comforting for a 24-year-old single person who struggles to fit in in the first place.

So if there aren't many young people attending the two major catholic churches in town, where are they all at? I would think that in a city this size (which for me is the biggest one I've ever lived in), and with 2 universities, there would be more young people attending. But I guess not.

I guess that most of the young people that do attend church are going to the churchess on their campuses. I know that both Texas Women's University and University of North Texas both have churches/chapels on campus. But as far as I know the churches are small and share the building with other denominations. In other words, the catholic community isn't it's own parish like it was back at Oklahoma State.

Although, I've heard that the UNT Catholic Campus community is looking on becoming it's own parish and is planning to build it's own church at some point in the near future. But for me, it doesn't really matter since I'm going to be moving on soon anyways.

Why haven't I tried getting involved with the campus catholic community?  I'm not really exactly sure.  For one thing, it doesn't help that I don't live that close to campus or even on campus. While I'm a student, I don't really feel like I am. At least not in the traditional sense.

 I'm sure most of the students live on campus which makes it easier for them to attend masses. I don't live on or near the campus. Therefore I'd have to drive to campus and find a parking spot.  I don't even have a permit for campus parking since I don't really have a need to go to campus all that often. It's just a waste for me. I'd rather take the bus but they don't run on Sunday's and it would take too much time. I could walk I guess, but I don't even know the campus that well to even know where I'd be going. Plus, I'm not comfortable walking alone from my apartment to the campus center (plus it's quite a distance for a walk).

I guess I could look into the church at TWU since I'm closer but I don't know. I still feel like I would feel out of place because I don't go to school at TWU.

I also think I'd feel out of place regardless of where I went, I just feel like I'd be surrounded by a lot of undergrads and  that perhaps I wouldn't get along with them. That I'd just feel awkward because I'm older. I'm not even sure if there would be any graduate students.

Plus since I don't feel like I'm part of the University anyways, I don't feel like I'd be able to relate to a lot of these people even though I'd be surrounded by people that shared my same religion.

I guess maybe I'm also looking for something I know I can't find. I want the same type of community that I had back at Oklahoma State. The University parish/ Newman Center. Where there were a variety of students. Where I felt part of the Catholic church. Welcomed.  Where I felt like I was part of a family. Where I felt at home. I had people there I knew.  I participated in things. I loved the student mass on Sundays followed by dinner.  It was wonderful. I just loved it so much. 


My cousin was the one who introduced me to St. John's. I just remember falling in love with the church from the first time I went there. From then on, that's where I went. 

I still go back to visit the church when I go back to Stillwater. Mostly because  one of the ladies I got to know, helps out there at the church. But yet, it still feels welcoming to me. I'll admit that whenever they talk about events happening at the Newman Center, it pains me that I can't go to them. They had an ice cream social at the beginning of school this semester and it broke my heart that I couldn't go since it's a 4hr drive from here.  Just little things like that make me miss St. John's.

I guess I'm trying to find that same experience here. I've tried to find it but I haven't been able to. The same sense of welcome and community that St. John's provided for me. I just want to feel like I belong. That I'm part of something

I want to be around people my age like I was there. There was a mixture of people there at St. John's: older people, young people, families. But they focused on the University and provided for the students. The students were the main focus.

I know I won't find something exactly what I had back in Oklahoma. I was lucky to find that.

I keep searching though. That's all I can do.

I can just keep hoping and praying that something will turn up.