memories of what i used to be; memories that have made me what i am
i used to save the strangest stuff.
i always wanted to have a steady collection that only i kept; something i might be proud of later in life. i was always thinking about later in life. i was a "what if" child. to some extent, I still am.
i collected rocks for awhile, that's what Tim collected when he was younger. he also collects bottles, and his collection is large. i don't know if he kept his rocks. then i started stamps, which lasted a couple years i think. i still have them; grandma sometimes gets me more. i used to save paperclips. i had collections of crayon shavings, broken pieces of pencil lead, used erasers, leaves, buttons, shiny plastic. and i would refuse to throw them away, because, who knows? what if i throw it away and i need it for later, like for a project or something? then i'd regret it. better safe than sorry, right? i used to save every single assignment from school-- each grade. i saved the wrappers from elementary school Valentine's Day parties. I saved my grades, notes I passed in class, pieces of hair i lost and found. little rocks made of wet dirt that we used to make during recess. what if when i get really old and tired, i lose the memories of my childhood? what if i'm bored one day and i want to read through old things? what if i need to prove to someone that they did write that note or that i did get that grade? what if i needed it later? what if i lose it, and then i regret having lost it or throwing it away? what if there's a fire in our house and i need to save things? what if...???
well i started having so many piles of random useless things in my room and everywhere and they were getting in the way. it was really hard, but in seventh grade, I cleaned my room. It was a big thing for me, throwing out the old things, making room for the new things. i still have quite a few of my old assignments too, but not nearly as many; only the things i was proud of. with heavy heart, i threw out the old gumsticks, the beads and buttons, the pencil and crayon shavings. the fingernail clippings. the big pieces of layered dead skin i'd peeled off of my hands and feet. my favorite felt-tipped pens from preschool. the party favors from Lauren's birthday in first grade. etc.
since kindergarten and first grade, I would always worry about my parents. what if they didn't have enough money? --i would eat very cheaply, i would not ask for presents, i would not ask for money or new clothes, i would secretly sneak dollar bills into my mom's purse. what if they don't have enough food for everyone? --i would eat less, i would sometimes starve myself. what if everyone dies tomorrow? --i would always say goodbye and hug people before they left. I used to even prepare last words that I'd want to have said-- for awhile those words were "good luck". so every time someone left, or if I left someone, i would tell them "good luck," just in case i died. that way, i would have left them saying something positive for the future. that was first grade.
i used to obsess that my stuffed animal Cheezy was going to get old and die. i didn't want to wear him out, and i didn't want his cloth to tear or his tail to come off. i was afraid to play with him because i loved him so much. i used to cry and cry at night, wailing that he'd die someday, and i wouldn't be there. i remember staying up with Dad at night because i couldn't sleep, crying so much about the possible demise of my stuffed mouse. that was second grade.
then i started worrying about my parents dying. i couldn't say "I love you" to them without bursting into tears, afraid I'd never get to tell them that again. Who knows? they might die in a car wreck tomorrow. I might fall out of a treehouse and break my neck. I never went in treehouses or bunkbeds or monkeybars or wooden bridges or wild amusement park rides (not that I even attempted going to amusement parks), or high open spaces until around sixth, seventh or eighth grade, because i always thought i would fall or the contraption would break. hell, i used to avoid getting too close to my pets because i didn't want to be too devastated when they died. i couldn't bear to think of my parents not being there, so I'd always ask questions like "are you healthy?" "what did the doctor say?" "do you have any diseases or anything?" "who will take care of me when you two die?" "do you have life insurance?" "what if you two die, what will happen to me?" "what if only one of you dies?" "what would happen if my brothers died?" "be careful, i don't want you to get hurt while you're gone", etc. that was third grade.
of course, after that (although it never really has gone away completely), I began to upset myself with the world. the environment, people's health, the economy, the government, nutrition, health, human and animal psychology, etc.. I'd cry whenever i thought about the overflowing landfills everywhere, and what the world was coming to because humans were so careless. i started volunteering at homeless shelters and recycling centers (well, I started those in second grade because my brother[s] worked there). that was fourth grade.
fifth grade: i worried about computers. technology. artificial intelligence. what if we invent robots that DO take over the world? will the world end if everyone were cloned? what would the population come to?! why aren't we helping the endangered species as much as we could be? why do some companies and corporations test products on animals? what if computers start to outsmart their creators? what if everyone turned into greedy fat pigs and nothing got done because it was just a lost cause? what if an earthquake killed everyone because we weren't informed enough to prevent it? doesn't anyone see that by making all these inventions that we're just further increasing the gluttony and laziness of the human race?! etc.
sixth grade: what if i don't get perfect grades?--then i won't get a good GPA, or get into a good university, or get a good job, or find a good husband, or be able to raise good kids or live in a nice house with a car, or have fun, or anything? THE FUTURE DEPENDS ON NOW. WORK HARDER WORK HARDER.
i didn't really have friends in sixth grade. at all. i don't think i ever went out and did anything that whole schoolyear. only then did i become such a recluse, and so depressed. i'd barracade (as my mom has said) myself in my room and do 6+ hours of homework every night, and still I wouldn't be satisfied with my grades or projects. I had to work more. but it took me so long, because i had to make things perfect. and then i just started giving up, listening to sad music, thinking up ways to end this misery and save a lot of people the agony i'd surely give them in the future. i used to write out the ways i'd planned. i wrote a couple RFTSs about how i'd commit suicide-- concise, detailed procedures. several options. running away and jumping off the I-90 bridge into the cold water, or hopping over the median into oncoming traffic. forcing down a gallon of bleach in the middle of the night. hinging myself with a shoelace or several hair ribbons. stabbing myself all over my body, bleeding out, then ending the task with a blow to the head or ribcage. what would my note say? i spent hours thinking up ways to say goodbye. probably the equivalent of days. i began doing those things listed above, thinking, instead of my homework, which made things worse. i'd get caught up in my fantasies, then i'd have too little time to do homework, I'd stay up all night doing homework, i'd be tired and energy-less the next day, unable to do classwork well... then i'd stress over not finishing work or forgetting it at home. i spent lunches mostly wandering around the school with a sadnwich sometimes. mostly though, i'd wander around watching people while avoiding being watched, and mooching off of other people for food. or the trashcan. i ate out of trashcans since third grade on popcorn days at school; the kids would buy popcorn and throw away perfectly fine bags still plentiful with it. so a friend and i would pick out the good ones and eat during lunch recess, because i didn't want to ask my parents for popcorn money. (they probably needed it for life insurance.) i spent most of my time crying. and most of my time at school worrying about what we were going to run in PE that day or the next day or the next week-- literally, I'd worry all day about that, off and on between worrying about homework load and other things.
seventh grade i hit rockbottom. i was admitted to Overlake Outpatient (only during the day) Psychiatric in mid February through mid-winter break, where i focused on distraction techniques with the other kids there (all girls). I hated it there. the psychiatrist was nice, but i didn't like the morning lady or the skills lady. i liked the hot cocoa, the chicken strips, and the breakfast muffins/bagels, but that was it. oh, and we got to color while the teacher ladies talked. so basically i just pretended like i got better; i wanted OUT. a few weeks later, bogged down by homework (science fair-- solar cars & presentations, IS american history night thing, humanities mythology and lord of the flies/midsummer nights dream, orchestra i didn't worry about, math i didn't really worry about [except i remember we had the group project about the different countries and their areas], and french - which you just don't want to miss unless you're asking to be confused), i was admitted to Children's (in Seattle) Hospital & Regional Medical Center Inpatient (overnight and all day) Psychiatric Unit. I stayed there for exactly 3 weeks; we worked on DBT skills and my medications were upped and more were added on. i had lost my appetite for meals there, but i had a lot of snacks and i lost 10 pounds i think. we didn't get out much but i got to go skating at White Center and we took a walk to the park down the road. i didn't get to go to Archie McFee's though because my level was too dangerous. that made me upset. i made close friends there, most were from the ED (eating disorders) girls. there was only one boy in the C group (ages 12+). some kids were really wild, there was one kid there maybe 3 years old who only knewhow to say "FUCK YOU". that's all. just those two words. another kid there had the same kind of pants i did and we got them switched upon occasion which was annoying because he wrote his name on my pair, which were nine million sizes too large. god... i can't write about this anymore... i don't know whether the memories are good or bad but they're definitely coming back..
i always wanted to have a steady collection that only i kept; something i might be proud of later in life. i was always thinking about later in life. i was a "what if" child. to some extent, I still am.
i collected rocks for awhile, that's what Tim collected when he was younger. he also collects bottles, and his collection is large. i don't know if he kept his rocks. then i started stamps, which lasted a couple years i think. i still have them; grandma sometimes gets me more. i used to save paperclips. i had collections of crayon shavings, broken pieces of pencil lead, used erasers, leaves, buttons, shiny plastic. and i would refuse to throw them away, because, who knows? what if i throw it away and i need it for later, like for a project or something? then i'd regret it. better safe than sorry, right? i used to save every single assignment from school-- each grade. i saved the wrappers from elementary school Valentine's Day parties. I saved my grades, notes I passed in class, pieces of hair i lost and found. little rocks made of wet dirt that we used to make during recess. what if when i get really old and tired, i lose the memories of my childhood? what if i'm bored one day and i want to read through old things? what if i need to prove to someone that they did write that note or that i did get that grade? what if i needed it later? what if i lose it, and then i regret having lost it or throwing it away? what if there's a fire in our house and i need to save things? what if...???
well i started having so many piles of random useless things in my room and everywhere and they were getting in the way. it was really hard, but in seventh grade, I cleaned my room. It was a big thing for me, throwing out the old things, making room for the new things. i still have quite a few of my old assignments too, but not nearly as many; only the things i was proud of. with heavy heart, i threw out the old gumsticks, the beads and buttons, the pencil and crayon shavings. the fingernail clippings. the big pieces of layered dead skin i'd peeled off of my hands and feet. my favorite felt-tipped pens from preschool. the party favors from Lauren's birthday in first grade. etc.
since kindergarten and first grade, I would always worry about my parents. what if they didn't have enough money? --i would eat very cheaply, i would not ask for presents, i would not ask for money or new clothes, i would secretly sneak dollar bills into my mom's purse. what if they don't have enough food for everyone? --i would eat less, i would sometimes starve myself. what if everyone dies tomorrow? --i would always say goodbye and hug people before they left. I used to even prepare last words that I'd want to have said-- for awhile those words were "good luck". so every time someone left, or if I left someone, i would tell them "good luck," just in case i died. that way, i would have left them saying something positive for the future. that was first grade.
i used to obsess that my stuffed animal Cheezy was going to get old and die. i didn't want to wear him out, and i didn't want his cloth to tear or his tail to come off. i was afraid to play with him because i loved him so much. i used to cry and cry at night, wailing that he'd die someday, and i wouldn't be there. i remember staying up with Dad at night because i couldn't sleep, crying so much about the possible demise of my stuffed mouse. that was second grade.
then i started worrying about my parents dying. i couldn't say "I love you" to them without bursting into tears, afraid I'd never get to tell them that again. Who knows? they might die in a car wreck tomorrow. I might fall out of a treehouse and break my neck. I never went in treehouses or bunkbeds or monkeybars or wooden bridges or wild amusement park rides (not that I even attempted going to amusement parks), or high open spaces until around sixth, seventh or eighth grade, because i always thought i would fall or the contraption would break. hell, i used to avoid getting too close to my pets because i didn't want to be too devastated when they died. i couldn't bear to think of my parents not being there, so I'd always ask questions like "are you healthy?" "what did the doctor say?" "do you have any diseases or anything?" "who will take care of me when you two die?" "do you have life insurance?" "what if you two die, what will happen to me?" "what if only one of you dies?" "what would happen if my brothers died?" "be careful, i don't want you to get hurt while you're gone", etc. that was third grade.
of course, after that (although it never really has gone away completely), I began to upset myself with the world. the environment, people's health, the economy, the government, nutrition, health, human and animal psychology, etc.. I'd cry whenever i thought about the overflowing landfills everywhere, and what the world was coming to because humans were so careless. i started volunteering at homeless shelters and recycling centers (well, I started those in second grade because my brother[s] worked there). that was fourth grade.
fifth grade: i worried about computers. technology. artificial intelligence. what if we invent robots that DO take over the world? will the world end if everyone were cloned? what would the population come to?! why aren't we helping the endangered species as much as we could be? why do some companies and corporations test products on animals? what if computers start to outsmart their creators? what if everyone turned into greedy fat pigs and nothing got done because it was just a lost cause? what if an earthquake killed everyone because we weren't informed enough to prevent it? doesn't anyone see that by making all these inventions that we're just further increasing the gluttony and laziness of the human race?! etc.
sixth grade: what if i don't get perfect grades?--then i won't get a good GPA, or get into a good university, or get a good job, or find a good husband, or be able to raise good kids or live in a nice house with a car, or have fun, or anything? THE FUTURE DEPENDS ON NOW. WORK HARDER WORK HARDER.
i didn't really have friends in sixth grade. at all. i don't think i ever went out and did anything that whole schoolyear. only then did i become such a recluse, and so depressed. i'd barracade (as my mom has said) myself in my room and do 6+ hours of homework every night, and still I wouldn't be satisfied with my grades or projects. I had to work more. but it took me so long, because i had to make things perfect. and then i just started giving up, listening to sad music, thinking up ways to end this misery and save a lot of people the agony i'd surely give them in the future. i used to write out the ways i'd planned. i wrote a couple RFTSs about how i'd commit suicide-- concise, detailed procedures. several options. running away and jumping off the I-90 bridge into the cold water, or hopping over the median into oncoming traffic. forcing down a gallon of bleach in the middle of the night. hinging myself with a shoelace or several hair ribbons. stabbing myself all over my body, bleeding out, then ending the task with a blow to the head or ribcage. what would my note say? i spent hours thinking up ways to say goodbye. probably the equivalent of days. i began doing those things listed above, thinking, instead of my homework, which made things worse. i'd get caught up in my fantasies, then i'd have too little time to do homework, I'd stay up all night doing homework, i'd be tired and energy-less the next day, unable to do classwork well... then i'd stress over not finishing work or forgetting it at home. i spent lunches mostly wandering around the school with a sadnwich sometimes. mostly though, i'd wander around watching people while avoiding being watched, and mooching off of other people for food. or the trashcan. i ate out of trashcans since third grade on popcorn days at school; the kids would buy popcorn and throw away perfectly fine bags still plentiful with it. so a friend and i would pick out the good ones and eat during lunch recess, because i didn't want to ask my parents for popcorn money. (they probably needed it for life insurance.) i spent most of my time crying. and most of my time at school worrying about what we were going to run in PE that day or the next day or the next week-- literally, I'd worry all day about that, off and on between worrying about homework load and other things.
seventh grade i hit rockbottom. i was admitted to Overlake Outpatient (only during the day) Psychiatric in mid February through mid-winter break, where i focused on distraction techniques with the other kids there (all girls). I hated it there. the psychiatrist was nice, but i didn't like the morning lady or the skills lady. i liked the hot cocoa, the chicken strips, and the breakfast muffins/bagels, but that was it. oh, and we got to color while the teacher ladies talked. so basically i just pretended like i got better; i wanted OUT. a few weeks later, bogged down by homework (science fair-- solar cars & presentations, IS american history night thing, humanities mythology and lord of the flies/midsummer nights dream, orchestra i didn't worry about, math i didn't really worry about [except i remember we had the group project about the different countries and their areas], and french - which you just don't want to miss unless you're asking to be confused), i was admitted to Children's (in Seattle) Hospital & Regional Medical Center Inpatient (overnight and all day) Psychiatric Unit. I stayed there for exactly 3 weeks; we worked on DBT skills and my medications were upped and more were added on. i had lost my appetite for meals there, but i had a lot of snacks and i lost 10 pounds i think. we didn't get out much but i got to go skating at White Center and we took a walk to the park down the road. i didn't get to go to Archie McFee's though because my level was too dangerous. that made me upset. i made close friends there, most were from the ED (eating disorders) girls. there was only one boy in the C group (ages 12+). some kids were really wild, there was one kid there maybe 3 years old who only knewhow to say "FUCK YOU". that's all. just those two words. another kid there had the same kind of pants i did and we got them switched upon occasion which was annoying because he wrote his name on my pair, which were nine million sizes too large. god... i can't write about this anymore... i don't know whether the memories are good or bad but they're definitely coming back..