Little Girls Misfortune

My nickname is Ale. I have other ones, but that’s the one I like the most. I put that there because only 5 people are aware of that fact. I don’t think many people know much about me so here are a few things. In my day, I tend to think about 4 things. Church, the daydream of a show that I made up that currently has multiple seasons, my family, and myself. What I mean by myself is how I got here. Not in a “I went to school, did my work, ate, grew up etc”, it’s more of how did my identity get here. Identity is a strange and sacred word to me. I personally feel like I don’t have the right to know what it is, and I’m me! I think it’s better if someone else tells me what it is for clarification. Enjoy my stories to whomever reads this, ‘cause I also love tea.

. The fluorescent lights shone overhead in my 3rd grade classroom. 20 nine year olds sat on the rickety plastic seats, writing notes For Valentine's Day. Each had to say at least 3 things per student. Little Ale sat, hoping to get a good few notes as she swung her feet back and forth. I was trying my hardest to be kind, even to the ones I disliked! I didn’t have much of a reaction when all I saw was quiet, reserved, and didn't talk much. It stung only a bit. I’ve almost always been reserved.. This summer, I read a book called “7 Habits of Highly Effective Teens”, which talked about the use of paradigms, or perceptions. They can be how you perceive yourself, another person, or a group of people. Even for me, it’s hard not to judge people and make these false paradigms. But, all the pink and red paper hearts did is set my role in the classroom set in stone.

Throughout elementary school, I would sit in my mom’s office, waiting for school to start. Occasionally, she’d ask me “Why are you so afraid of people? They won’t bite, it’s fine!”. The thing is, to me, there will always be a possibility that they’ll be nasty, rude, or just plain ignore me. Those thoughts will always outweigh the good ones, so it would take 5-10 minutes just to bring up the courage to say something. So in first grade, when I made my first friend after so long, it was a miracle. She was someone who I had felt the most comfortable with. We even had fun in the bug-infested gazebo that no one interacted with. I won’t say much since she’s still in this school and we have similar friends, but we had an ugly falling out. Our friendship came to a close around the time when I had to rack my head about what to say to her to make her happy. While for some, the obvious solution is to make new friends, but when your brain works against you, it’s more difficult than making salvadorian cheese .When she ignored me one day out of the blue, I was devastated. It seemed like I could only hold onto friends as long as I could, and yet when they left, it was the end. You should have seen the desperation I had, trying to reconcile but it never worked. I was seen as even more of a loner in my eyes.

  I think my life sounds a bit depressing to be honest. So, let's go onto the bright side. After third grade, I took what little juice my social battery had and ran with it. Unfortunately, I couldn’t run and probably dropped it. I had to deal with my parents' growing concern about my body. The doctor was something I dreaded. I already knew I was going down the path of childhood obesity, but why did I have to be reminded when my parents had the liberty of doing that already?! It, as expected, leads to more mental problems down the road. Side note, I’ve been erasing a few things already. This of course, leads to early 2016. I was participating in the Fitnessgram, something I believe very strongly should not be giving to children from personal experience. I was sitting on the side since I messed up push ups and went at the wrong time (as if I could even get past 9). I ended with 4 pushups. I went to the farthest I could be from everyone else and sobbed, since I felt like a failure to be honest. That’s when my current best friend spoke up. “It’s fine! Don’t cry!” so something like that. I eventually became friends with her. It was so special to me I can’t even comprehend how much it means to me. It was someone who I actually enjoyed telling my days to. Before, I liked listening but not talking. For once, I was able to witness that it was possible to become close to someone other than my family, and made more and more friends as time went on. 

For a time, it seemed like my mind was in freefall. I constantly felt like something was empty inside, but since I knew nobody who was feeling the same, I had no idea. I will go into a few. I recall sobbing in the bathroom, wondering why it felt like I was going backwards while everyone was pushing forward. How was it possible for anyone to go to school, interact with friends, do any extracurricular activities, and go home to do homework and enjoy that routine, over and over again? Is it possible to do that and be happy? The blue walls seemed to be collapsing as I was wailing over the sound of the shower running. I wanted to be free from all of my sins, from the pain of not being my family’s perfect 3rd child. Happiness could only come in small, short bursts, exactly how my breaths were. I left the shower before the walls got too small for me to think. In the small, warm guest room with gray carpet sat a gift. One of the gifts I received for my 13th birthday was on how to hand sew plushies. To you, it might not mean a lot, but to me, plushies are a source of comfort. It soon grew into something I loved to do. I would sit for hours under the warm sun rays, listen to music, and stitch one by one while thinking constantly. Projects where I could lose myself for hours became something I enjoyed immensely, since it was something I could do for myself. I started seeing something I was good at and something that was unique for me. My mind was more open to possibilities. Orange was no longer an ugly color, it’s the color of oranges, the sun, and warmth. It was the start of appreciating myself (and life) more.

“If you can’t feel happiness when others are happy, you are miserable”- Some guy. It’s simple, but I’ve lived with it for months. This summer, my family finally got to have a talk about what we really felt about certain topics. A few months back, I knew something was wrong with me. I wasn't living a happy nor fulfilling life. In a rush of anger, I had unjustly blamed my mom for all on my problems, something I had learned from my father. As he said, I’m still growing and have no knowledge that it was that serious. As I sat there retelling how it’s been a struggle, I had insight for a few things. One was my mother and my sister had absolutely no idea on what I was going through. It felt like my emotions were being laid out in the open, being picked on by a family who turned their nose at the thought of a child having worries. Even though it ended up hurting me, they still were able to love me. It was a relief to know they were aware I felt off. They may have said things that have caused great discomfort in the past, yet I harbor no ill feelings toward their attempt. In fact, they cared more than I expected.

Something I’ve always believed in is that you should never suffer alone. To me, it’s one of the worst things you could ever do to yourself. I’ve found more meaning in life. I explore more on what I love in life, like sewing, planting, and drawing. I’ve been more open to knowing what my weaknesses are and how to help it. There will always be days where my life is a failure, everyone is moving away from me, and I’m alone. But there will also be ones where I sit in my room and make something I truly love. In all, I never thought it would have gotten better, or that people would listen to me as I try to cover my flaws. But, life surprises you when you don’t expect it.