Posted by trouble on March 8, 2002, at 20:43:07
I'm going into a bad area here for the first try and w/out drinking. Let's see how honest it all comes out.
OK just going by what the grown-ups said it seems I was a slow child. I frustrated every adult I came into contact w/, it was always
That kid doesn't know enough to come in out of the rain, she's out in left field, ass backwards, kids gotta hole in her head etc.
It started out normal enough, I was just dumb, next to my playmates, we'd play those games "I'll show you my butt if you'll show me yours", "I'll cut off my pigtail if you'll cut off yours." Needless to say how that shit turned out.But I graduated from being the stock neighborhood patsy to bastard child of the Elephant Man, they'd invite me to picnics and slumber parties that didn't exist and then hide, watching me knock on the door w/my pajamas in a bag, laughing at me for having believed them. Trying to talk me into drinking a glass of urine, saying it was lemonade. I didn't think anything strange I just said no and went home.
In second grade my friend Rachel invited me over to her house to listen to the new Beatles record and we were sitting in the rec room downstairs listening when the closet door opened and Nancy Quinn, well known bully stepped out and beat me up while Rachel watched.
A few days later Rachel asked me if I wanted to come over to her house and listen to records and I said ok. The same thing took place as what went on before.
The 3rd time it happened they poured gasoline on me and then I woke up. No, really, I don't remember. There was another time but it turned out better I remember them being gentle and kind, the two of them sitting on the bunk bed across from me, telling me I should have said no, should have realized it would happen again, they gave me a caramel apple and I played w/ the remote, yadda yadda.In retrospect is when it's distressing. Years later. Now. It was a PATTERN, things were happening over and over that I wasn't assimilating. Forget my mind "protecting" me and all that cheap sentiment. I was crazy. No thoughts, an automoton, ask any psychiatrist, I was crazy, I'd like to know, though what was going on, the dx, does it sound like schizophrenia? My gramma and big brother had schizophrenia, why wouldn't I? Can I get a consensus? Can kids even GET schisophrenia?
I'm making up here, for all those missing thoughts!They came to me all in one day, my thoughts, thanks to my fourth grade teacher, my only childhood advocate and, character-wise least likely to intervene, but she stood up when push came to shove when I showed up late and all the kids in class were wearing yellow strips of tape on their hands. If you go shopping you may notice some stores use staples but Target uses strips of skinny yellow tape to keep the bag closed and that's what the kids were wearing. All except John Haas who sat behind me and smelled like pee, no one ever spoke to him, myself included.
But I turned around in my seat that day and said looks like me and you are the only ones w/out a yellow sticker. Tell me who's passing them out and I'll go get us one. "I don't want a sticker." he says, staring at a spot on his desk.
"How come" I go, "what's wrong w/ them?"
This was the only converstation I ever had w/ John Haas. "Because," he said "Not wearing a yellow sticker means... the person... likes you.Likes me? I don't get it.
Eventually I understand it's bad then get up from my desk and walk out of the room, slamming the door behind me as hard as I could. I was pissed. Stuck an unlit cigarette in my mouth and started running through the halls. I still run like that when something gets to me. No thoughts, just running.
When I return, standing outside the door I hear my classmates yelling
"She comes in late everyday! She sleeps during class! She eats off of other peoples lunchtrays! She wears her mom's nylons! To school! Her last name keeps changing! She never combs her hair!"That was how I learned that other people could see me as good as I saw them. I didn't realize people saw me eating off of abandoned lunchtrays, I didn't know they knew I wore my mom's nylons, even though they fell in bunches around my ankles, I didn't know I was the only one sleeping in class. No wonder John Haas sat behind me in class, we were the same and he smells like pee-
This was the first time I ever felt my knees give out, like they were going to collapse, from what, exposure? Can they do that? My shrink says I am a drama queen, and true to form I took each new revelation like it was a bomb going off.
The next thing I hear is Mrs. Kesti's voice: I don't give a tinker's DAMN how trouble conduts herself in this classroom, and I AM THE TEACHER, do I make myself clear? You know nothing ABOUT troubles homelife, if you had half that child's problems you'd be ashamed to hear yourselves speak--
WHAT?! Problems in my homelife, there are problems in my homelife, what problems, why wasn't I told about this what is she TALKING about... these were my thoughts, in that moment, and that was mild-mannered Mrs. Kesti giving me my first brush w/ reality, better late than never, she'd be pleased to know I haven't stopped thinking since.This wasn't so bad. In the old days I'd pass out before finishing, spill the bottle all over my journal, but this was nothing, I got it all figured out now and I feel fine, hope that's not a bad sign.
As usual thanks for reading,
trouble
poster:trouble
thread:19502
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/social/20020305/msgs/19502.html