Ignorance is bliss.

It’s 4:46 in the morning, I haven’t slept at all, I drank perhaps a little too much earlier, and I’m completely restless. As I’m slowly sobering up and listening to my clock tick endlessly in this painfully quiet night I’m recollecting my thoughts about certain aspects of myself. 

I like to be in denial. I like not knowing certain things. It makes me feel strangely good for some reason. When I got my final grades for this past fall semester I know I did well in three out of the four courses I took. The one I didn’t do so well I probably got a C or even a D depending on my final exam grade. I checked my grades for all my other classes except that one class and went straight into vacation mode not worrying about any classes during my break. What holds me back from checking is the disappointment of receiving anything lower than a C and because it’s somewhat possible. I don’t want to get my hopes high and check and actually do get a D and feel disappointed all break thinking about what I should have done. Instead I choose to remain selfish and ignore the inevitable by feeling like everything is okay for once even if it’s possible it’s not because I just want to feel human for a month or so before I get shoved back into the harsh face of reality. 

College “best friends”

I was scrolling through my instagram and I noticed that one of my friends put up a photo of her and several of her other friends that she met in college and in the caption she deemed them as her best friends. I think it was the first time she ever referred to them as her best friends and I know they’re all good friends and usually hang out and go out together.

Well my point is that in all the years I’ve been in college I’ve never made any best friends whatsoever or even good friends where I would be comfortable enough to hang out with them in a non-class related setting.  And I’ve kind of put some thought into this because yes there are a lot of people that do indeed make best friends in college.

But does it depend on your personality? I’m one of those kinds of people that go to class solely to learn and get good grades and would honestly be fine without meeting or talking to anyone in the class. It’s kind of how I prefer it. My best friends that I’ve known since high school go to the same college as me and it’s the same situation for them as well. Our personalities are for the most part in the same category, that introvert type-ish. But I mean introverted people have probably made some best friends in college as well as the more extroverted individuals, they just had to have someone to initiate the contact and be interested enough in the person to continue and establish a closer relationship.

I just always thought that I kind of have enough best friends and I’m not really looking for anyone to “fill in” any missing gaps of my life or whatever to feel more satisfied? I mean it’s fine that if someone deems me interesting and we have similar interests but then all of a sudden claims me as their best friend. I don’t know how I’d feel about that? I guess it’d just take a lot more time for me to get comfortable with the person than just a few weeks or months of good chats. And to even be able to hang out will take even longer. It all just sounds time consuming and probably makes me seem like an unfriendly individual in class. I mean 90% of the time I won’t initiate small talk with anyone unless I absolutely have to, but if someone else chats in a friendly manner of course I’ll be friendly in return and hey if they continue to talk to me in class day after day that’s cool too, but once the semester ends that’s probably the end of the friendship.

Does anyone else feel the same way? is it bad that this is my view on best friends in college? I mean I don’t think so, it’s just how I am and don’t mean to be rude in any way. Feedback would be cool if anyone wants to share any experiences.

Summer changes.

I didn’t really have time to write because for the first time in my life I was actually busy the whole summer taking summer classes, which by the way was the best decision I’ve made for myself for the summer instead of just sitting around at home consistently bored while all my friends are busy being busier than me.  So, despite being stuck in the books for months on end, it went quite well! I am very pleased and proud of myself.

Now, onto what I came here to write about. So my oldest brother was studying for his masters these past two years and graduated this May. For two years I saw him only about five times total since he moved up north to go to school. About every other day for two years he’d call me and just talk about his day and random stuff he did. We never really used to communicate on a more personal level before until he moved away. I mean yes we would talk every day about things but those phone calls just seemed more heartwarming? like he really just wanted to talk to me and missed me and it was a different feeling for me because we’re not like that. We’re not all emotional and in touch that way so to have him feel the need to call me almost every day just created this closeness between us that was never there.

He moved out from where he was living after he graduated back at our parent’s home where I currently reside for the summer. And I must say, it was quite refreshing having him there for a change. I was so used to hardly seeing him and it would just be me and my other older brother until he went to work and then it would just be me at home alone for half the day until my parents got home from work. We really bonded even more this summer, we share a lot of similarities so it’s incredibly easy to relate to each other.

It was just an interesting transition of myself regarding him as annoying and rude but now he’s just more brotherly. There’s just more kindness I suppose, I can’t really describe it. Two years without seeing him did make me miss him more and when I found out he was moving back home to look for a job in town, I was pretty excited to get to see him more and hang out with him more often and I think he was happy about that too. We’d never admit these kinds of things to each other, but I don’t think we needed to in order for us to know that this whole way of living was missed.

The need I never admit.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Dear Mom.”

Where do I even begin?

First of all, I’m sorry. I realized that these passed few years, especially once I started college, I’ve been more distant and my temper and tolerance have been at times out of hand when I’m at home. There’s probably no excuse for my attitude/and or behavior towards you or anyone at the house and I’m sorry that I snap.

I’ve been stressed, mom. I come home every once and a while, you ask how I’m doing, I say, “Oh fine, classes are going good.” well, it was a lie. Most of it was a lie. You’re not there to tell me what to do, I’m making my own choices and I suffer whatever consequences there may be.

I’m trying really hard in school, probably the hardest I’ve ever tried in my whole life. I’m taking one step at a time towards my own future and am planning it very carefully, trying not to get stuck in a bottomless pit again. Because of that I know I’ve missed some important things. Easter, Dave’s birthday, and even Mother’s day- missed it all to work harder, study harder, be a better me. I just need to focus on myself a while longer until I finish school because I’m doing this for me and I want your approval and I want you to be proud of me as well.

I know I don’t tell you enough how much you mean to me, I don’t always seem like a loving daughter, I don’t appreciate you enough. But without you, I’d be absolutely nothing. My whole world would be nothing, everything I am would come crashing down on me and I’d be so lost. I need you, I think I’ll always need you and that’s the fate of being a mom, always being needed.

So mom, thank you for always putting up with me, thank you for all that you do to support me and care for me, and lastly know that you are the greatest mom and that I love you.

One year: From ultimate isolation to better days.

About two weeks ago I hit my one year anniversary here on wordpress. This blog was originally intended as a last resort kind of coping strategy to my anxiety and my somewhat depression.

I didn’t know what anxiety was, I didn’t think I’d get this ultimate saddened feeling where I felt like my life was basically pointless and almost wanted to do absolutely nothing every waking moment. I didn’t want to talk about it with anyone, not my family, not my closest friends. I even felt a somewhat feeling of betrayal from my closest friends so I was mostly isolating myself from any social event or even contact and remained in my paranoid/anxious state for quite some time.

Finally after I’ve had enough moping around and feeling bad for myself, I decided to start writing about how I felt as a way to cope with my anxiety/depression. I’d feel anxious, write about it, post it, and within the hour or a few hours I’d get some favorites, comments, or even follows from people that I suppose deemed me interesting enough which in turn made me feel good that there are people that can relate to me and in the end when I ultimately felt alone and isolated from everyone I knew, I actually wasn’t.

I never liked writing until I started writing to help myself. Now whenever I go out or even read books I get inspired to write something and immediately start to write some stories and save them for later publishing.

So, thank you WordPress for helping me climb out of the darkness I was surrounded in for so long. And also thank you followers who still stick around to read my meager posts.

This is reality.

When I was in seventh grade there was supposed to be a new teacher to come and teach my pre-algebra class.

In comes this young woman. She had an unusual last name and everyone could tell that she was definitely not from around here. She had just graduated and moved from where ever she was residing in.(I can’t remember where, somewhere up north in the states.)

She seemed like one of those “last minute hire teachers because we REALLY need someone to fill in asap.”

So she introduces herself and we start class. My class was one of those pre-ap courses so you would expect a little better from the students, but no. No, no, no. In fact, we were one of her worst groups. About half the class constantly goofed off and played around while she tried to teach the lesson. They would talk, throw things at each other, and completely ignore anything and everything she was saying.

It was like that most of the time, having half the class completely misbehave and have the teacher try and try to get them to listen and be quiet while she teaches, but she wasn’t persistent enough. She wasn’t loud enough.

One day there were these boys throwing paper balls all over the classroom, distracting all of the students and suddenly she just snapped and yelled at them. Completely over the top yelled at them. After she yelled at them they were quiet. Everyone was so quiet and waited to see what she would say next. What she did next though was unexpected. She cried. She just broke down and cried. Some of the girls in my class went up to her and tried to calm her down, pat her back gently and reassuring her that everything was okay.

We kids at the time have no idea what she’s going through. We don’t know what stress is, what having to deal with a lot of conflict is like, what real life is like, really. We were just these ignorant kids. At the time they would go around saying “Wow she actually cried in class, can you believe that?” and you would think that sounds stupid that she actually cried in class, why couldn’t she just tell everyone to be quiet or something. We just can’t relate well enough. I mean we don’t know what kind of life she lives, what stress she goes though and everything so to us if an adult breaks down it’s like the ultimate crime and shame.

After that incident, everyone did start paying more attention and started being more calm. She opened up to us more as the year went by and we got to know her better. She was really interesting, sharing her interests with us that we also shared and some stories of her childhood.

This one time towards the end of the year, where we didn’t really do anything since we finished the TAKS test we basically had free time in class, she talked about her life in college which was fairly recent since she just got the teaching job after she graduated. She said she didn’t want to teach math. She actually wanted to do something with working with lasers I believe? I can’t quite remember, but it was something completely different than teaching seventh grade math. And we just looked at her and one of the students said, “So why don’t you just go back to school? finish and do something you love.” and she thought about it and said that she should.

You could tell that teaching wasn’t her plan. It wasn’t her dream. Now that I’m in college, I can finally relate to a lot of what she was going through. Having to change your dreams just because you couldn’t do or you weren’t cut out for doing what you really wanted to do and instead having to settle for something else. All that stress piling on her from these damn kids that won’t give her a break. Stress from being completely new at this. Stress from entering reality and being completely hit by it every day.

I always think that what if I graduate with my degree and can’t get a job in something that I want to do or something that I’m qualified and instead have to settle for less in order to get by in this harsh reality of a world. I’m not sure what I’d do if every day I sat in a small office for the rest of my life, regretting everything and questioning everything while I wallow in misery.

So now I understand. Everything she did was completely acceptable and understandable. I only wish that she didn’t end up with such an unfortunate class that made unnecessary events arise. But the class did learn to be more respectful so in the end it was fine.

I’m not sure if she’s still teaching, but where ever she is I hope she’s doing well. She may have struggled at the beginning, but she was a great teacher and a great person.

Broken, but still together.

My parents have been married for 30 years. They met at a small institution and dated for five years before getting married. My mom was 25 and my dad was 26.

I was raised in a small home. We were part of the lower income families so we didn’t have too many luxuries. We always had bills though and we always needed money.

My mom is a secretary and my dad is a cashier at a grocery store. Dad makes more money than mom. Maybe two to three hundred dollars more. Mom gets paid every other week, dad gets paid every week.

I don’t live at home much because I live on campus at my university. My oldest brother moved out and lives in San Antonio. My other brother still lives at home with my parents and supports them too with his part time job at the library. You’d think they’d need less money now that they don’t have to support my brother who moved out and not too much of myself because I’m living on my own right? WRONG. If anything they need money now more than ever.

My mom pays for the house mortgage bill, house insurance, and electricity. My dad pays for the cable, water, phone, and car insurance. My mom has the most expensive bills while my dad has the less expensive ones. But why does mom have to pay for the most expensive bills if she makes less money than dad? because dad doesn’t have money.

Why doesn’t dad regularly have money even though he gets paid every week?

Because daddy likes to drink. Likes it so much it’s part of his lifestyle.

About 5 days of the week my dad will drink. Socially or non socially, he’ll go out of his way to buy a pack of beer and drink it all and I mean all of the cans. He’ll drink until he’s completely drunk and acts idiotic, making a fool out of himself.

My mom says that they don’t have much money because dad keeps spending it on beer. Dad gets mad at that acquisition and says “You don’t tell me what to do, I’ll drink if I want to.” and storms out the door. He’ll come back home, though. Maybe in a few hours completely drunk as the usual.

The next morning my mom tells my dad how drunk he was last night and dad just laughs it off. Mom is trying to be serious and gets scolded every time she makes a point saying he needs to stop drinking so much and wasting money on it. But dad doesn’t care at all. He just wants his beer because he says it helps him relax.

Argument after argument after argument. They both argue nearly every single day and it never ends in resolving issues. Dad will ignore mom for the entire day if she keeps protesting about his beer. Once dad leaves somewhere mom would come to me and tell me her problems about what’s going on between dad.

“I only have one problem with him. It’s the beer. If he didn’t drink so much everything would be okay. And I don’t mean he has to quit beer I just mean that he can drink two maybe three beers on the weekend when he’s off, but a 12 pack in one night? am I being too selfish? am I asking for too much?”

My mom and I will spend hours talking about his issues and what he should be spending that beer money on. Talk about how much healthier he’d be and how much happier we’d be. But it always ends in, “Well you know no matter what we do or say he’ll never listen.” and honestly, it’s true. We’ve done a lot to try and help him stop drinking so much, had one on one talks with him, but he’s just so stubborn and has no care whatsoever about what any of us has to say.

And then I’ll ask my mom, “How do you do it? how do you keep going on living like this living with a husband who ignores you and argues with you all day long?”

One of her responses usually sounds like “I don’t know, we’ve been married for so long that I don’t think I know how to live without him.”

I’ll sigh at her responses every time. It breaks me that my dad can’t be understanding at all and is completely selfish wanting to satisfy his needs all the time, every single time. What kind of love is that? What kind of husband who has been married for 30 years is that?

I want my mom to be happy. I want my family to live happier, but these days it all just seems to be getting too difficult to deal with and fix that it’s much easier in the long run to just try and keep living with the ways things are.

I love my dad, I really do. He just doesn’t know how to be a good husband and figure out his priorities. He doesn’t act his age and is simply immature at things he needs to be careful and wise with.

And then I tell my mom something she didn’t expect to hear. “I wouldn’t blame you if you left him because if I was in your position, I would of been long gone.”

This whole thing, this constant arguing and fighting, trying and pleading, this sort of vicious circle, has been going on for years. How many years? 10 too many.

The same crosswalk.

I’ve lived in the same dormitory for three years. I walk the same paths to get to my classes, to go to lunch, dinner, everything. My dorm is across campus so I have to walk across the street to get on campus.

There’s this cross walk that everyone uses that lives in the same dormitory as I do to get where they need to go. You simply press a button and the lights turn red, signaling the cars to stop so that pedestrians may cross the street safely.

I’ve used it over, and over, and over. There are times where I’m crossing and a car is just barely coming to a stop as I’m crossing the street. I would always think, “Wow, that dumb car barely stopped in time to not run over me.” but now it’s more like I notice that the car had almost hit me but I don’t really feel any particular way about it. I just continue my strides to the other side of the street and go about my day. Three years ago, that would of probably terrified me. Now I’m at the point to where I’m almost curious as to what it would be like if that car hadn’t stopped in time and actually did hit me.

It’s not that I would purposely be careless while walking across the street to get run over, of course not. But if I’m being careful, which I always am, and a care happens to hit because of their reckless driving, then by all means.

You live in the same place for years, have the same routine, go through the same paths, see the same people over and over again. But then you cross that cross walk and think, what would getting hit by a car do to me that hasn’t already happened to me before?

End it all with out any more worries, stress, or heavy responsibilities?

You live the same life over and over, you’ve visited all hurt, fear, disappointment, and anxiety before numerous times that nothing really makes you feel anything anymore.

So then I lay on my bed, wondering and thinking, all the years I’ve lived here, all the things I went through being here that I never want to revisit again, what I’ve accomplished, what’s still unfinished, and everything else that lies ahead of me, that maybe that crosswalk gives me some sort of relief.

“So what’s college like?”

“It’s sort of like you’re being eaten alive, but no matter how much you want the pain to hurry and finish you up, you’re left there to suffer and take all the damage that was given to you. You meant figuratively speaking, right?”

“Sure?”

On the edge.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Enough Is Enough.”

When was the last time you were ready to throw in the proverbial towel? Did you end up letting go, or decided to fight on anyway?

Letting go isn’t as easy as you think it is. It has always been incredibly hard for me to just simply let go and give up than it is to press on and keep trying.

I’m a junior in college and I’m very close to graduating. About another year or so. I’ve been through all kinds of obstacles, financial hardships, and breakdowns throughout my years here and I always think, why am I doing this? why don’t I just give up before I break completely and save myself now?

A year ago I was at my ends meet. I honestly couldn’t take anymore and didn’t want to take any more. My grades were dropping in 3 out of my 5 classes, those 3 being the more “important” classes due to them being degree requirements. I was so scared of failing, so scared of falling into this pit that I couldn’t dig myself out of.

I was studying for two exams one night, both were equally important and also equally challenging. At around two in the morning I felt like I couldn’t study anymore, I couldn’t process anymore information even if I wanted to. I was too overwhelmed and anxious about the upcoming exams, fearing every second that ticked to its time. I left my dorm and walked outside. It was very cold at the time but that didn’t bother me in the slightest in that moment of revelation. I sat on a bench and thought about what my next possible “move” is going to be. The only thing that swept through my mind, the only option and easiest way out I could think of was walking back up to my room, pack my bags, and leave for home for good. 

But what happened in reality? I went back, re-opened my books and began studying through what seemed like an endless night. Those thoughts chased me but I really just couldn’t actually do it. I’ve worked hard and then to just give up when I’m so close to the end? I can’t do it. Even though I so desperately want to end all of it with just a snap of my fingers, I’m still here. Still trying, still holding on to whatever is keeping me from falling.