Finally Breathing

I'm scared I'm using my sexuality as an escape from my problems. Of course I have to explain this. You see, lately, I haven't been able to get the "molestation" issue out of my head. I haven't forgiven Andre or even acknowledged his presence, but the idea that I just sat there and let myself feel so uncomfortable and taken advantage of has bothered me so much, and as Fate likes to do, I am still reminded of it at the most random of times. Now it feels like whenever I feel lonely or depressed, it pops back into my head, encircling me. I don't know why. And it's bothered me even more because now I feel absolutely uncomfortable when guys touch me. Considering I was already awkward and uncomfortable with guys acknowledging my existence before, this is really annoying me. I'm feeling paranoid almost. 

It's not like I expect to have better luck with females than I have with guys. I honestly haven't had very bad luck with guys - I've had two boyfriends. But I never voiced my opinions. I let them walk all over me and gave them what they wanted - to an extent. I haven't given myself up for them, but I've given them my heart and my soul time and time again, and they didn't respect it. No one saw it as a bad relationship though. Not them, not me, not my friends - even though they voice their dislike of one of my boyfriends, it didn't really have to do with me. I just feel like I expect to end up in a relationship with a girl and it will fill in the missing pieces I've needed in romance, like a first date, or real nonsexual bonding. But I don't want to feel like my bad luck with one gender means I should try out the other one, like picking the runner-up or initiating plan B.

It's amazing - most people have to deal with so much drama because of their sexuality, but for me, my sexuality is barely an issue for me. It's everything else that is driving me insane.

Sometimes, I read stories about people who were touched inappropriately by family or something, and luckily that hasn't happened in my family, but I feel like something just hasn't happened correctly. I don't know anything about my dad, and sometimes I wonder if I would rather have a horrible father in my life then no father at all. I hate feeling empty or incomplete - I hate it more than anything. I always feel faulty, like I was given pieces of scrap metal and rejected parts to piece my life together and expected to come up with a masterpiece.

I don't want to be in a relationship really, even though I've been saying I've wanted to for years now. A relationship is the last thing an unstable person like me needs right now. But seeing everyone else happy... I mean half the people I know are getting into relationships all of the sudden, so I can't help but feel a little lonely. I no longer feel stressed by my life, but now I've fallen back into my apathetic state, which I haven't visited since ninth grade. I'm worried I've crashed and burned and will end up back where I started. I haven't done most of my schoolwork, haven't worked on college apps, just barely finish my work assignments on time. JoLynn keeps telling me to take deep breaths to relax, but I'm afraid I took one breath too many and exhausted every bit of caring that was left in me.

When I was in 8th grade, my English teacher called me "apathetic". After looking up what it meant, I decided to prove her wrong. I started writing a book about myself, titled Apathetic Girl. I lost what I had written in 9th grade and didn't revisit the novel idea because, I was still apathetic. But when I think about it, my response to her was the opposite of apathetic. I was determined to prove her wrong, and let everyone know why I had given up on trying or caring. I still do that now, but... I don't know. 

I keep telling myself I'm not running away, and that running away never solves your problems, but all I want to do is get into college and move away and have "the relationship I deserve when I get into college" that my friends assure me I will have. But that's not going to solve anything. I don't know if it will make things worse, but it won't make them much better. 

Have you ever... felt like you actually did belong in the place that you were? I know everyone feels like they don't belong, but maybe I do belong here, and I'm not meant to escape because my problems will follow me. Maybe I do belong here, wallowing in the muck while I dream distant dreams. Lets face it - I'm no Cinderella. I'm not a princess waiting to be rescued, no matter how many times I fantasize that I'm in a Disney movie. There was never a bisexual princess who demonized everyone around her because she hated her own life, and there was no princess who didn't dream big, and there was never a princess who had human friends and siblings related by blood and an immense feeling of imperfecktion.

But... maybe that's because... Disney is waiting for me to make one.

I know, I just turned everything around at the last moment, but maybe I'm just writing the wrong story with the right character, instead of the other way around. I don't know. Haven't I always pulled it together before?

"And I always find, yeah, I always find something wrong
You been putting up with my shit just way too long
I'm so gifted at finding what I don't like the most
So I think it's time for us to have a toast" 

I really don't know what's in store for me, and I don't know how my years are gonna go, but I really just want to stop finding new reasons to be upset. If I keep doing this, then I'll never be happy and never let myself succeed. 

I really am breathing, JoLynn. I promise that I am.  

"A Steaming Cup Of S.O.S."

"A steaming cup of S.O.S."

This is a picture I drew. Notice the person standing on the spoon is holding a sign that says S.O.S. S.O.S. is my abbreviation for Stop Our Suffering, a name I came up with for an organization that I have not yet started. I wanted to start SOS for people like me and my friends who usually suffer in silence and either don't go get help or can't get help for the problems that they have no control over in life.

The idea of it being a teacup and having people trapped in a teabag, that came to me out of nowhere. I guess it's somewhat morbid, but I don't bother trying to scold my brain for what it comes up with anymore. I like my drawing - it's different from the poems I usually put in my sketchbook, which was bought for the purpose of me drawing in it.

Cocoon (a poem)

You burst from your cocoon
like popcorn from the bag.
They say “you are beautiful,
just as nature intended.”

You grow as you did before,
learning the ways of the world
with your new-found wealth-
They say “you are such a lucky thing, you.”

Your presence collects stares
like a magnet does to paper clips.
They say “you are eye-catching,”
all thanks to your beauty nap.

But something is wrong
for all I see

is that you emerged just as you had
when first climbing into your cocoon.
These people look at you
through rose-colored glasses.

You may call yourself
such a beautiful
butterfly,

but all I see
is just another bug,
waiting
to get
squished.

Cocoon

Everyone thinks that cocoons are precious save havens, untouched by the evils of the world. But they are wrong.

I would love to live in a warm blanket of solitude, but cocoons do not do that. They are merely foggy glasses and a scarf on a cold winter day. The world is the same, the world is still there, but it's harder to perceive. And the cold whips at you still, just a thin bit of protection to help you.

The bitter cold and grouchy winds are your only company. People walk not past you, not around you, not even through you, but into you. They bump into you and bruise your skin with their bulky bodies. They don't notice you - it's like they are brushing against a brick wall. Cold, bruised, and alone. That is what life in a cocoon is.

Through the harsh winters and dull falls, waiting eagerly for a gentle spring and a breath of fresh air - a new life. A life where you won't be ugly or scary or creepy or weird or unfitting, unsettling, annoying, or feared, where you won't be sneered at, and your presence will be cheered. A life where you are loved for being you.

But at this point, are you even still yourself?

When you wrapped yourself for the transformation, it was just second nature. It was finally your time to experience the inevitable. But the you that you once were is peeled away like dead, flaky skin or chapped lips, or your own withered cocoon. Your new-found beauty, your new-found self, from something so disgusting and unwanted.

Do you remember the tale of the ugly duckling? How about Cinderella? Now think - would anyone have liked them before they became beautiful and successful? No? Now haven't you had that same thought about the other beautiful people that made you want to change? What makes us any better than the repulsive toads that get to become rulers of each others happiness? What makes you different than the ones that you despised? You escaped from them, just to become one yourself.

You may see a beautiful butterfly, but I still see a bug, simply waiting to be squished.

Tell Me What You Know (a poem)

Tell me what you know - I want to know all about you.
Tell me how you spent your days growing up,
moving from one apartment to the next,
settling in neighborhoods that just didn't sit right with you.
Tell me of your earliest memories,
curious and playful like a kitten,
exploring your world - one speck of dust at a time,
never sticking with the same fantasy everyday
you were a cheerleader, a ballerina, a detective, and a superhero
you were a busy child.
Tell me who your friends were,
the ones that drifted in and out of your life every year with the fall's chill breeze
the ones that never write you anymore
the ones that have outgrown you.
Tell me what your family is like
when your dear destructive brothers take on the world, one victim at a time
and your poor pitiful mother just... no comment
oh and your distant sister - is she still the normal one?
Tell me how you're feeling now
with frequent headaches attacking your skull,
teaming up with aches and pains older than I am.
Tell me, have you gotten any better?
You can't have gotten much worse.
Please, tell me all about you.
Tell me how you do it.
Just tell me what you know.

Tell Me (a poem)

How could I encounter such a problem
when the answers lie right beside my hand?
How can you say time is running out
when I still hold so many grains of sand?
How can I prepare for new beginnings
when the past is still stalking up behind me?
How can I be drowning in misfortune
when I never took a trip out to that sea?
How can I be filled with all these questions
when the answers are staring back at me?

ESSAY #2

"How have your past circumstances and experiences (such as your upbringing, community, and/or activities) impacted who you are, your future goals, and your choice of major? If you haven't decided on a college or major yet, briefly explain your intentions and aspirations for your first year at Illinois. Please limit your response to approximately 300 words."

Nonstop chatter, late-night music blasting, and constantly getting kicked out of my room - a typical life for a younger sister of teen boys, the only difference is that my brothers have Autism. They cause messes and mayhem almost everyday. Handling them takes much experience and even more patience. They are perpetual toddlers. My mom has no spouse and has been unemployed since 1992 when the twins were born in order to fully take care of them. It’s a tough job, even with my help. In the past, my brothers have run away from home, escaped the car, not paid attention to oncoming traffic, attacked family and strangers, and endangered our lives. They don’t understand when something isn’t safe. They don’t always listen or understand us. The best we can do is try to look out for them.

Occasionally I want nothing to do with my brothers. They keep me up at night playing sing-along tapes, eat us out of house and home, put their hands on me, and scare away some of my friends. People don’t understand how hard it is to live with them. But when I mention my brothers, I always try to put them in a positive light. They have their sweet moments, like when Julian picked up my forgotten doll, or when Jordan told mom to get a pink Christmas tree because it’s my favorite color. They impact my life tremendously - even my name gives them credit - Julian said “Nicoleh” a lot before I was born, so my mom made Nicolette my middle name. I love my brothers so much for all they’ve given me: experience, adventure, love, hope, and even part of my identity. Being a part of the “3JGs” is what drives me to make my life a little less typical.

ESSAY #1

"In no more than 300 words, tell us something about yourself that isn't covered elsewhere in this application, some interest or experience of yours that you think the University of Illinois should know about as part of the admissions review."

At Kenwood Academy, our mission is college. My course to college has surprised even myself, but I am proud of what I’ve accomplished so far.

In 2007, I joined my school’s Anime Club, and at first I was just an ordinary member who quietly watched Japanese cartoons with everyone else, but I found myself becoming more involved when I found out my graphic design teacher Mr. Onli was also the club sponsor. With his pushiness and assistance, I’ve created seven designs and counting for the club’s use. My designs, along with several Facebook statuses and events, helped me promote the club and earn my spot as the club’s official publicist. I would not have discovered my love for design and advertising if it weren’t for my work with the club.

I later joined Kenwood’s Drama Starz club to help get over my shyness and self-confidence issues. I still battle with stage fright, but I no longer run from the limelight.

As a child, I was very soft-spoken and I never asked for help because I had to put others first, like my special needs brothers and my mother’s authority. My problems got worse when I developed a depression in seventh grade and my grades suffered. Only recently have I realized the strength of a support system. My friends have helped me and I have helped them with problems I didn’t even know that they had.

With an advertising major, I want to help the underdogs of the world, spreading the word of opportunities to help each other. I will also use my love of writing and graphics to tell stories that need to be heard. Right now, journalism, graphic design, and social networking interest me in the way of publicity, but I’m always open to creative new challenges.

Some people get writer's block, but there is no dam inside my brain. That is both a blessing and a curse.

Some people get writer's block, but there is no dam inside my brain. That is both a blessing and a curse.

For example, writing college essays. I go off on long tangents, disconnect from my story, and going over my word limit. This is a bad thing.

But, WRITING TWO OUTSTANDING ESSAYS AND REVISING THEM IN A WEEK'S TIME is definitely a GOOD THING.

This is directly from my brain. Finally, a quote of my own :)

An Old Sample College Essay of mine.

I'm busy writing college essays right now, and I remembered one practice essay that I wrote a couple years ago in a college readiness program. Right now, I'm writing an essay for a school and it must be no more than 300 words. My old essay is over 700 words. -_- You can see how hard it is for me to cut down my words on this new essay. But I really like my old, 732 word essay, so I will post it here. And if I ever finish with my other college essays, then I will post them here too.

    I’m used to “being the other one.” My brothers always take the spotlight, their autism disability making them the V.I.P.s of my life. I’ve missed out on numerous experiences and put countless things on hold because Julian’s and Jordan’s needs come first. Julian personally makes sure that he gets taken care of, no matter what the obstacles are: his inability to talk, his inexplicable dislike of Jordan, authority figures, locks… There’s a reason we call him the “Tazmanian Devil”, but sometimes he’s nothing more than a troublesome lost puppy.

    One time, I was at a SibShop event – a program for kids who have siblings with autism – when my mom told me that Julian was in the hospital. I was terrified – my mom wouldn’t tell me what happened, and I kept assuming he got hit by a car. Fortunately, that wasn’t the case. Julian had apparently crawled over Jordan, climbed out of our van, and went into the store my mother had gone in. He had to go to the bathroom, and my mom always takes him to the women’s restroom with her, but since he couldn’t find her, he went on his own. Well, a woman was more than a little shocked to see a guy (Julian looked like a grown man by then) sitting with his pants down in the women’s restroom, and she called security. The guard tried to talk to Julian, but since Julian can’t talk, the guard labeled him as nonresponsive. As a result, Julian got pepper-sprayed; we took him to the hospital so the doctors could stop the effect of the pepper-spray in his eyes, and when he was better, we went to the police station so that Julian could get his mug shot. Now this event is his criminal record. I didn’t go back to my SibShop meeting that night, but everyone was quite amused when I told them at the next meeting.

    Not every experience with him is so comical. Once, my mom had taken Julian to the bathroom at White Castles, and she was walking him back to the car when he got out of her grip and took off. I was so used to my mom taking care of my brothers at this time that it never occurred to me to help her until she was yelling at me to run after him. I didn’t know what he was headed for, but he was already darting across the street so I ran to catch him before he got hurt. Somehow, not a single car was on the road when he got halfway across the 4-lanes, but as soon as I set foot on the street, traffic flows again. I couldn’t believe my rotten luck as his guardian angel helped him as he flapped his arms, still running ahead. We made it across the street, and as I caught him at a gas station, I noticed this boy was running to his favorite restaurant: Popeye’s. He was blissfully ignorant to the dangers that threatened his life while I’m still scared to cross the street with him.

    Julian has certainly taught me about perseverance. But he’s also taught me that I’m stronger than I thought. I showed my bravery when I ran after him across traffic and when I have to push Julian back when he’s mad so he doesn’t hurt Jordan. I practice patience when I have to listen to countless sing-along tapes with high-pitched mice and chipmunks, or Julian’s high-pitched squeals, or Jordan’s constant chatter. When my mom is ready to pull her hair out, I’m ready to take over and help keep these boys content. I feel like I helped raise them. And most importantly, these boys taught me that I can deal with any obstacle. If I need help, I will not rest until I get it. No one can bully me or talk about me because I won’t listen to what they say. When I thought my autistic brothers were my biggest obstacle for what I want to do in life, they actually became my biggest drive to become as strong as them. Their disabilities have put them at a disadvantage, but Jordan and Julian help me as much as I’ve helped them. If they can keep trying to take care of themselves and work to get what they need, then so can I.

Fix You

I didn't even realize this was a Coldplay song when Glee sang it yesterday, but I love it even more now.

Just... how I feel right now.

"When life is dragging you back with difficulties, it means that it's going to launch you into something great."

The ups and downs of depression are entirely frustrating. It seems like every time I post on my blog, I go from a happy and hopeful post to a "woe is me" post, as if my blog itself is bipolar.

I'm not exactly sure how to phrase it, but yesterday, one of my "friends" kind of... molested me. I can't find a better word for it. All the seniors had a field trip to a movie theatre to watch a documentary b/c most of the school was taking practice tests, and I don't know, it's just, the whole time after the lights dimmed, he was... I just... okay if I don't write what happened now then I'm not helping myself at all. He was touching my breasts, and I'll explain right now that that wasn't a red flag for me b/c my friends and I have been known to do that for a while now. I know it's stupid, but I've had an apathetic attitude since 6th grade, and that includes not caring if people invade my personal space, unless they touch my stomach b/c it reminds me that I am not comfortable with my weight - I have a lot of issues. He was laying on my shoulder and kept touching me, but what raised a red flag was that he kissed my hand - numerous times. Even when I pulled my hand away, shrugged away from him, turned to face my other friend, or tried to keep him from taking my hand again by folding my arms and not letting in easily, he did not get the hint. When the movie was over and we were leaving, he kept hugging me from behind and I told him stop and moved his arms off of me, he still didn't get it. Back at school, I was still uncomfortable with him and he was still with me and my three friends, and I told two of my friends what happened, and Brandon was like "why didn't you say something?" In fact, most of my friends asked that same question when I told them - I still can't find an answer. One of my other "friends", Loretta, kept messing w/ me, sending me texts saying "He's next to you" and "Is he bothering u?" when she was right behind me. I didn't find it funny and she was getting on my nerves. Then she kept calling my name when I tried ignoring her. When we left the auditorium, I blew up and shouted.

"YOU'RE A BITCH (Loretta) AND YOU'RE A PERVERT (Andre) AND I WISH YOU WOULD JUST LEAVE ME THE F*** ALONE!!" and I stormed off. A minute later, Brandon came after me and tried to cheer me up. And then I noticed that Andre was still following.

I had just yelled at him, loud enough for others to hear, clearly voicing my disgust and anger, and yet he was still hanging around! Brandon sensed how awkward the situation was, so he continued to make things more awkward by saying random observations like "The sky is really blue today." I understand he didn't know how to fix things, and that's fine. Andre was still with us when we stopped to get food, and eventually he left on his own. Brandon was upset w/ me for not saying anything during the movie, but I really couldn't find any words. I couldn't verbally tell Andre to stop, I couldn't ask Brandon for help, I really couldn't say anything except "please sit next to me on the bus, Brandon."

I've told a few more of my friends what happened, and they were all in Anime Club, so they offered to talk to him. I just... didn't want to get involved.

The next day in Anime Club, we were watching anime... in the dark. I felt panicky and made sure I wasn't sitting near Andre, but all I could do was focus on him, and after an episode of anime, I got up and went for a walk. I couldn't handle being in the dark with him again. When I came back to the room later, he was gone, and my friend Sheridane said that she talked to him and told him it wasn't right, and he said okay. I really want this to all go away.

It just doesn't make any sense. Why do I keep having bad things happen to me? Why is it, even after all the triumphs I've made, I still find it hard to talk to people? I hate interviewing people even for a short question, and I'm a reporter, so that's a huge problem. I couldn't tell Andre to stop, or tell Brandon I needed help, and I even felt awkward telling my friends what happened. I really only told Brandon, Loretta, and Sheridane, but the group overheard me telling Sherry what happened, and so I explained it like five or six times.

What made matters worse was that I was really looking forward to getting the courage to talk to the girl I fawned over in two blog posts ago, but she wasn't even there today and I never see her around school. I felt like crying again today, but nothing actually fell. Some of my friends like Sherry and Ignacio could tell I was upset and kept bothering me to tell them why, but I just don't feel like explaining myself anymore. My best friends tried to make a joke of it, saying they would get me a mail order bride, and "kidding aside, you'll find someone some day. and they're probably battling the same demons so then you can battle demons together and be happy! right! because demons cancel out demons." I couldn't laugh, I just told them I wasn't going to talk right now. I don't think they were hurt - they just left the chat to do homework.

All I've been doing right now is listening to Coldplay and blogging my heart out. I just don't see why I keep dealing with shit like this. I'm highly unstable, and all I want to do right now is cry again, and do my homework and finish high school and finish my college applications and get accepted and go and get my career and just leave my stupid problems behind, but even if I could do that, the most random-ass new problems would pop up and next thing you know I'm gonna be found dead in my apartment.

I really don't want that to happen. I really, really, really want to live. I just don't want to live this life anymore.

Going back to the quote - the picture and the title of this post - I have to say that when I read the quote, it really filled me with hope for a minute. And I'd still like to believe that it is true - I mean I highly expect it to be true. I just wonder how long I'm going to have to keep pulling before I can finally break free.

A (Really) Good Cry

Even though I've been trying MAJORLY hard to get past my issues, there is one person in my life who can always smack me right back down.

My mother.

You know how there are those people in your life that you just can't ignore, no matter what you do? That's her. Even though I know she's not always right, she just finds a way to always make me feel wrong. I just can't be what she wants me to be. And I stopped trying to be what she wanted a long time ago - I just wanted to be myself, but I feel like I can't even do that right.

I almost gave up on life last Thursday night.

The stress of being me has been really weighing down on me, and my mom is not helping at all. She says I never talk to her, but that's because there is no talking to her: logic is no match for my mom. You will never be right, you will never be listened to. While I'm struggling to pass my three AP classes plus my other classes, my afterschool activities, my job, my self-esteem, my friends, my family, college applications, college scholarships, and the things that make me happy so I can keep the strength to handle all of this, she can just tear me down and make me feel worthless. I tried to explain to her that my grades weren't A's and B's right now because that's not how the grades work at the beginning of the year - if you miss one assignment or score low on a test/quiz at the beginning of the year, it really takes a toll on your grade because you don't have a lot of other assignments to balance out your grade, and I told her that's how it's always been with my grades every year and my friends agree. But that doesn't matter to her

"You can't get into U of I with grades like this, you can't get into Northwestern or even Chicago State or even community college with those grades!"

But mom...

I just...

And then she doesn't believe me when I say I'm stressed.

"What do you have to be stressed about?!"

EVERYTHING. I've been struggling since 6th grade with the problems in my life, and it's never "How can I help?" or "what's wrong?", it's always "you need to fix this". She doesn't tell me how, or what should change, she just looks at what I've done and tells me I'm wrong. Always wrong.

After my fight with her, I ran to my room and cried in the dark. She didn't even check on me, just went to cook food as if nothing happened. I called my friend Brandon and he got so worried about how I was speaking to him and how suicidal I sounded that I had him crying. But he really really helped me. I talked to him for a long time about everything that was bothering me, and he kept trying to make me happy. What resonated with me most was "You are good, you are really good." He just kept reminding me that I am strong and that I've gotten this far, and even though my mom is making things so much harder, I really only have to wait four months until I can move out and then I just have to wait until college.

That day, I realized how much my friends really cared about me. Sheridane gave me a shoulder to cry on when I had a panic attack during school, Rowan was forcing me into the counselor's office to talk and relax when school was almost over, and Brandon was there to talk me off the ledge when I just couldn't stand being at home. And of course I can't forget people like JoLynn who keep reminding me that the more I speak, the more help I will get.

In the end, after all the talking I did, after I listed every problem I had, got rid of the extra things that added to my stress like the school newspaper, and finally broke down to my raw emotions, the thing that I was most relieved about...

was that I was finally able to cry.

I have been searching for an outlet strong enough to handle my pain. Writing and talking help but it's not enough, I can't do self-harm, and I can't even get myself to cry more than like twice a year. But on Thursday, I got to cry three times that day. And it was the happiest experience of my life. Everything just felt so much better after that last cry.

I know I still have to deal with some stress. I still want my job because I have no reason to quit it, I need my friends to get me through it, I do need to open up to more people like the counselor, and college isn't as scary as some other things in my life. But if I keep pushing myself to the limit without tagging out every once in a while, I'm not going anywhere. I don't want to make anymore rash decisions like cutting off half my hair or considering going through with suicide, a thought I haven't had since 7th and 8th grade. I just want to let the worries roll off my back and keep trying because as far as I can tell, I haven't failed yet.