Diary Card is a Trigger: Having an Emotional Flashback (or Five)

I’m not in a good place right now. I’m having an emotional flashback about this stupid diary card. I feel like a little fucken kid right now as a result and really sensitive.

I remember as a kid in school I would be feeling vulnerable for something like not doing my homework (just as an example) and this would make me afraid, especially when it came to certain teachers. Specifically my first grade nun was abusive when I didn’t get the homework done or even do it right.

So if I was already vulnerable I would be sensitive to just about anything adverse so I would cry easily.

Once I’d forgotten my homework in 7th or 8th grade and (guessing because memory) called my mother and asked her to bring it up to me. She did and when she got there, I saw her at the door of the classroom.

I shot up out of my desk, both embarrassed and relieved to see her there. When I got to the door, I nudged her into the hallway and the tears just flowed.

One year, just being back after the summer, the teacher gave the assignment to write out the multiplication tables. We were only supposed to got to 12 on each number but I kept going, not remembering this from the previous year. And I felt so overwhelmed and don’t even remember now how far I went with each one. It must’ve taken me hours that night to finish that assignment.

I didn’t go to my parents, because I didn’t know if my mom would send me to my father. He was the last one I needed or wanted helping me.

Now for some reason this diary card is sending me back to that assignment and just endlessly writing the times tables and then finding out when I got back to school the next day that I made it even difficult than I had to because I didn’t remember from the previous year, what to do.

So I’m sitting here in tears and I guess I’m supposed to record this shit in that itty bitty box with no fucking room!

Emotional Flashbacks Out of An Old TV Series and Faded Sunlight

treesun1The way the sun…I think it was the sun, created a section of lighter pink on the hallway carpet. It didn’t even look like the sun was in a place to beam in that way. The appearance, the angle, the way it was shaded in a smoky sort of way, all captured something that remains in my subconscious.

I immediately felt the sadness of grief, the moment I noticed it. In my desire to know what this was while walking back and forth, I’d look for a bit then look away. Go do something else, look again and look away. The grief felt more intense with each time I glanced at the faded light. And I wanted to know what it was about and where it was coming from.

My paternal grandmother’s house came to mind and maybe in her house, there was a time of day and a window in her house that allowed the sun to shine on one of her rugs in a similar way. But I don’t know if that’s true.

I just know I thought of her house. And when I think of her house, I think of her, and the most prominent memory I have of her is a small event that happened often.

In the dining room, next to the doorway that led immediately to the kitchen, I can see myself standing there. I’m a small child and my grandmother is a tall and thin woman. She is holding a freshly opened box of cookies and bending just a little so I can see inside the box, to make my choice.

Back in the present moment, I opened the front door to take a look for our cat. But the only cat out there was the neighbor’s round tabby, napping on the porch.

I said hi and then told him he wasn’t the one I was looking for. I asked if he’d seen his best friend. (Our cat.) Right after that, I couldn’t get the theme song from “The Courtship of Eddie’s Father” out of my head.

Depressed Kid In America

kid depressedI’m compiling lists of music on YouTube because I’d like to listen straight through while doing things and not stop to switch the video. The reason behind that though, is that I want to use the music as a tool for feeling. Music is one thing that will really get in deep, chip away until the tears come. It causes flash backs while bringing up feelings that I know I need to feel.

I’ve been numb too long. I’ve avoided all the shit I need to peel away and shed.

I was a teen in the 80s so I’m choosing a lot of that music, at least right now. I like a lot of other music too, and although other music brings up emotions too of other things, it’s the memories of the 80’s I’m after in that list.

One video I specifically looked up is “Kids in America” by Kim Wilde because I was a kid (at 15/16) when the song was released and it was being played on every pop station, probably around the nation.

The song “Kids in America” takes me back to my teen years, in good ways as much as sad.  But while watching the video and looking at the singer’s face, I was taken back to when I was 19. I think it’s because she was close to that age in the video. I was more than a year out of high school and going nowhere. And I continued to go nowhere all the way up to this day.

I looked at Kim Wilde’s face and compared myself to her. How she was doing something, creating something, putting something out there to be remembered.  And at that age I wasn’t even driving myself to the job I hated. I was walking several blocks to meet my ride.  I was smoking pot at every opportunity, including sometimes on that ride to work. I was living day to day to find some sort of escape from the depression that had taken such a tight hold by then and continues to this day.

It saddens me so much the potential lost as a result of no guidance in direction by the adults in my life at that time.

The most relatable line for me sadly:
“You know life is cruel, life is never kind.”