Advice-outsider opinion-or something

by joannadandy 3 Replies latest social entertainment

  • joannadandy
    joannadandy

    Ok peoples, I need some honest, objective criticism. A friend of mine is doing a project for her masters. She works at the Women's Center on my campus and is collecting stories and poetry from victims of assult, or family or friends of victims, and then printing them, under the theory that support, personal therepy, understanding, etc. is gained from personal narrative.
    She says she got the idea from reading this story of mine. But I feel it doesn't have a whole lot to do with assult, and the main point of my story was not meant to be about that. I kinda feel like I should edit it to fit her topic...IF I give it to her at all.
    I pretty much want to know if you guys like it or not, and if I should edit out the not important stuff, or leave it as is. You guys can e-mail me suggestions if you want. Or just post them here, whatever works.

    Words in Moments

    Give me a hug.
    Why?
    Because Im your Mother.

    I never bought into that bullshit. Those billboards you see saying Thanks Mom; for life. I didnt ask to be here. She told me every day of my life that she never should have had children. So why the fuck did you?

    My Mother and I have never been close. She likes to say we dont get a long because we are so much a like. I called my sister in tears once because she said that to me.

    Am Ilike Mom?
    Whatever, is she giving you that? She told me that all the time too, am I like Mom?
    Well, no

    Her entire life she has wanted nothing but attention and affection, but she only wanted to take. She never gave. She suffered from depression and always told me it was because Grandma and Grandpa never hugged her. Yet I cant recall any hugs from my childhood.

    Her question comes out of the blue. Times between us have smooth moments, but are eventually torn to shreds in a cycle of every two months. Maybe its a lunar thing. Maybe there is only so much we can take from each other before our facades crumble.

    She wants a hug. Now. I stare back at her. How can I hug you? I dont hate you, but I cant say I really respect you. Youve always dealt with me in a hot and cold fashion. If I hug you now, youre just going to yell at me tomorrow.

    This moment passes in less than sixty seconds. I didnt hug her. She walked away. I feel bad, but I didnt know how to do it, how to hug, because she never taught me.
    -------------------------------------------------------------------
    You dont believe in Jesus.
    Yes I do
    No you dont. My mom told me that youre a Jehovahs Witness and you dont believe in Jesus.

    I had six years of being a Jehovahs Witness under my belt, and I was pretty damn sure we believed in Jesus.

    I learned at a pretty young age that I hated people telling me what I believed. In retaliation I would tell her at show and tell later that afternoon that Santa was not real. She cried and told me she had proof that Santa was real and I asked her to bring it to school. She never did.

    Come to think of it, she never asked me to give proof of the existence of Jesus. If she would have, I couldnt have brought it either.

    This moment lasted thirty seconds in kindergarten gym class. We were running in circles in the gym. It was the first time I learned that I had a faith that was not like everyone elses, and it would not be the last time I had to hear someone explain to me what I believed. Apparently only outsiders are experts.
    ------------------------------------------------------------------------
    Do you still love me?

    There was a deep breath, and a long pause. That can never be good as an afterward to that particular question.

    Its not that I dont love you. I just dont love you as much as I used to. I still care for you, I really doI dunno

    Have you ever gotten the wind knocked out of you? Being told by your soul mate that they no longer love you as much as they used to sort of feels the same way. I guess I should have seen it coming. Long distance relationships never work. Writers and artsy types are prone to depression. Soul mates lose their fascination after about six months anyway. Once you have agreed upon everything, there really is nothing left to talk about. You just rehash and finish each others sentences.

    The way we met was cosmic. I was at the public library looking for a book. When I got to the right shelf, a handsome man was standing there reading out of a book. I stepped around him and continued my quest to no avail. He kindly asked if I needed help. As fate in her quirky way would have it, he was reading the book I needed.

    A quick conversation found, not only did we have same majors, we had the same passions in authors, music, art, everything that mattered to me we meshed on. By the time we finished having coffee at a local coffee shop we had already begun to finish each others sentences. I was already painting pictures of growing old with this man. Naivety and a fresh heart new to the game of love is a powerful blinding force.

    Id never been in love before. Im not sure I have been in love since. Its hard to get over your soul mate. This was my first serious dumping. This moment, including shocked silence, lasted ninety seconds.
    -----------------------------------------------------------------
    Please you cant! Please!

    Im not sure why I thought reason would work. Appealing to the heart I guess.
    Whys that Sugar?
    Im a virgin.
    There are ways around that.

    I despise being called Sugar. I cried a lot before, during, and after. It didnt seem to make much difference. I told my boyfriend a few days later. He was disgusted. Not by the man who had done it, like you might think, but rather by me.

    The moment lasted roughly 1200 seconds. My silence about that moment, after telling my boyfriend, lasted roughly 1460 days.
    -----------------------------------------------------------------
    I know you would have liked her. She was a very funny little girl.

    My dads voice cracked. My dad is one of the few men I know who openly admits he liked Steel Magnolias. He can relate, because when my sister was six years old she died of a brain tumor. He knows what it is like to lose a daughter.

    I dont really know how to respond to this. She died several years before I was born. In fact, I am pretty sure the only reason I exist is because she died. My parents didnt want more kids. Yet I was planned for. Methodically they hoped and prayed for my arrival. My name even means blessing from Jehovah.

    Its not easy growing up knowing you are the replacement child. I imagine its a lot like getting a new puppy after your beloved dog Scraps dies. The new puppy knows Scraps was very special, but now that Scraps is dead he has been elevated to saint status. The dead cant do any wrong. Any past wrongs are quickly forgotten, and the good times become amplified. Its hard to compete with a six-year-old ghost.

    I feel for my parents. I really do. Their religious faith keeps them happy. I wish I could have made them happy. Ten seconds.
    ----------------------------------------------------------------
    I love you!

    I slowly stood up and looked him in the eye. He was the same age as me, sixteen, yet he stood a foot and a half taller than me and outweighed me by about seventy pounds.

    Fuck you! If you ever touch me again I didnt have a threat to accompany it. So I merely let the rage in my voice speak for itself, praying that it was enough.

    You made me do it.

    Tell it to your therapist.

    I was half expecting a blow to the back of my head, but I must not have been worth it, or there was too much danger of being seen by someone at the party. Nothing came. Except pride in myself. I had always hopped that if I should ever need it I would have the courage to stand up for myself. I now knew that I did.

    We dated all of three weeks. It was a torrid high school affair. I was in love with someone else. Not being able to have that someone I settled for a jock, who was amazingly hot, and for some unknown reason was attracted to me. Hot guys dont like girls like me. This one especially didnt like me. I was too sassy and smart assed.

    Being backhanded only lasted half a second. Walking away another twenty seconds. Its funny how tall men still make me nervous.
    ------------------------------------------------------------------
    I just dont want to go anymore.
    What do you mean? Have you done something wrong?
    No of course notits just that, I have known for quite sometime its not for me. I havent made the Truth my own, and I am sick of lying to make everyone happy.

    I had been fascinated by religion for a long time. My parents religion had always been my favorite. All my life I was told to make it my own. Thats not entirely true though. If you choose not to make it your own you can be guaranteed that your childhood friends will no longer speak to you, your family will be embarrassed by you, and you will be told you lack faith. Members of the church will pray for you. Others will offer to study the Bible with you. Still others will assume you couldnt handle the pressure, and must have fallen into the temptations of the wicked spirit forces.

    When it comes to religion there are right and wrong answers. I failed my test. Maybe God will forgive me, because my friends and family cannot.

    The moment I had a discussion with my parents about religion lasted 9000 seconds. Approximately 784 tears were shed. Eight Kleenexes lay balled on the kitchen table.
    ---------------------------------------------------------------
    I love you.
    You do?
    He nodded. YeahI do.
    Well thats good, because I love you too.

    Ive always made it a rule to never say, I love you first. Perhaps its silly, but I have never liked to be the first to do anything. Its safer to wait. It also relieves me of all kinds of pressure, and I am all about minimizing pressure in my life.

    Ive never lied about love. I dont think you should ever feel pressured to feel the same way as someone else. I also feel love is a term that gets tossed around way too much. People love cheese. Some people love country music, may God have mercy on their souls. People love their children, and people love their aunt Myrtle. People who have been married for fifteen years tag, I love you too at the end of all their phone conversations. While I do not doubt any of these statements of affection, I wonder at how the word love is used in so many different ways. Your affinity for cheese could be greater than your affinity for aunt Myrtle, or vice versa. You may just be tossing into a conversation in the same cavalier manner we ask people, how are you?

    I just wish people would spend more time thinking about how serious a word it is. Finding out how serious the word love is to me took fifteen seconds. The glow that word left in belly lasted much much longer.

    THE END - Thanks in advance to those who made it through to the end of this long ass post!

    Edited by - joannadandy on 3 July 2002 2:21:37

  • Naeblis
    Naeblis

    Excellent. Though inappropriate for what your freind wants. If I were you I wouldn't give it to her as the point was missed and will be misrepresented. That's a very nice piece of writing though.

  • Prisca
    Prisca

    Leave it as it is. It's your thoughts, your emotions.

    It's good stuff, although I'm sorry you've been through the pain that accompanied the subject matter.

  • joannadandy
    joannadandy

    Well thank you Pricia, tho I am much better now--!

    I didn't talk about it for long time. In fact most people in my life, still have no idea it happened--which is another reason I would be reluctant to let her have it.

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