Sunday, August 30, 2015

I'm About as Scary as a Marshmallow

Fun fact about Kira: When I get into a confrontational situation, no matter how small, I will (without fail) burst into tears. I don’t know why this happens, and it could be something so insignificant as I don’t want to go to a certain activity with someone, and if they confront me about it and act offended, I will start to cry. This is actually really inconvenient and impractical, most of the time, because sometimes this fun fact means that I may burst into dramatic tears in the middle of a debate in history, if I feel the slightest amount of passion about the subject. While this often does make me win the debate because my opponent often spends his time freaking out about how to stop my crying instead of his argument, it’s also incredibly annoying. I feel like people don’t take me seriously, and I can’t take myself seriously, because anytime I have something important to say, something that I have coherent and well-researched and valid thoughts, I end up breaking down into a puddle of tears, and any credibility I have will go through the window as I’m reduced to an emotional wreck. This aspect of myself is probably due in part to the fact that I had to make myself cry on cue last fall for a show, so it became kind of a Pavlovian kind of deal, where any time I felt any emotion about anything, I trained myself to translate it to sobbing dramatically, and also probably partly the fault of He Who Shall Not Be Named (and yes, he should be compared to Voldemort, because, like Voldemort, he is the incarnation of pure evil).

Because of this fact, and because I’m a little upset right now, and because I’m feeling like being passive-aggressive and not actually dealing with the stuff I’m going through face to face, here goes a little exercise.
Dear Dad,

I love you. You know I do. But I’m sorry… right now, I’m not going to trust you with the things that I trust Mom with. You were kind of hurt today when I told her about a decision I was making and didn’t come to you first, you told me that she wouldn’t be able to do anything, since you’re the one here now, and you’re the one that can actually take action. I’m sorry, but I can’t do that right now. Mom has always been the one who’s been here for me, over the last six years. You haven’t been there. I know it partially wasn’t your fault, that you wouldn’t have wanted it that way, but that’s the way it was. I’ve always had Mom here to talk to through middle school and weird body changes and issues and how to put on makeup and what the heck to do when I get my period, and if boys will ever notice me. You weren’t here. Mom was here when we didn’t know where our next meal would come from, and she always made sure it was there. You were across the country. Mom was here when HWSNBN crashed through the house, slamming doors and telling us we were nothing, but she made sure Madison and I knew we were loved and valued and that it wasn’t our fault. You were silenced. And I know that you want to make up for lost time, that you want me to come to you with anything that bothers me or things that I’m wondering about or just plain thinking through. But right now, I’m not going to. Because right now, you’re kind of still a stranger. You’re a very important, special, loved stranger, but a stranger nonetheless, and because you weren’t there, I have trouble trusting anyone that’s not Mom. Because she’s someone who I can rely on, and though I know in my brain that I can trust you, it takes a little while for that information to hit my heart molecules. I just wish you would let me take my time, because I’m not going to be able to open up to you all the way, immediately. I’m not just that way anymore. Believe me, I would give anything to be able to go back to 11 year old me, where I was a lot more likely to tell anyone my story, to blurt my hopes and dreams and fears out to anyone who would listen. I know the person I am today wouldn’t be anything the same without the things I’ve gone through over the past six years, but I wish I wouldn’t have to deal with that wall that I’ve built to protect myself. I’ve tried trusting people, and enough people have let me down that it doesn’t come easy to me. I promise, I’ll get there eventually, and there’s nothing I want more than to feel safe telling you everything, but my wall has kept me safe where you haven’t. And the only person who’s inside the wall is God and Mom. So no, I’m not going to tell you everything right now. I will, eventually. Just give me a little bit. I might just run things by Mom first, because that's how things have always been. Until then, just know that I love you, and I’m so glad I get the chance to get to know you again.


Tuesday, August 25, 2015

The Land of What Ifs

Living in the Land of What Ifs is a pretty dangerous choice of making your home, but sometimes I tend to visit there for a short time, just because I find it very intriguing. I shouldn’t stay there too long, because then I forget about how I need to live in the Land of Now, but it’s definitely a place I’ve vacationed more than once.

What if… what if my life was like a sitcom, where you ship different characters and you’ll have one or two episodes where the writer caters to the fans and makes an adorably lovely episode or two where they play with the chemistry and see how the characters react to each other? You and I have our fair share of sitcom moments, walking around together in one of the most romantic places in the world, dancing in a storm verging on a tornado and getting completely drenched, even practically going on dates together where you insisted on paying and I insisted on you NOT paying, and then running up to the cashier to get the check split before you could get out your credit card. What if instead of meeting her, I decided that I didn’t want us to be friends, and entertained the thought of us being something more than just fantastic dino buddies. You told me that if you weren’t dating her, you would probably end up alone because no one else understands you. I didn’t say, but I definitely thought, “I would date you. I understand.” But I don’t live in the Land of What Ifs, and she makes you happy, and us being together would honestly be such a terrible idea. I wouldn’t want to risk the friendship I treasure so much. But still… what if?

What if… What if I made an incredibly destructive mistake? Who would I be? What if I said yes to you instead of being strong in what I felt at that time, and still feel now? We would still be friends. I would maybe be trapped in something that I couldn’t say no to because I said yes the first time. Would I have the strength that I had to build after you showed me that there are very few people I can trust with the painful things of my life? Maybe it would have ended up okay. I mean, if I had said yes, you would still tell me everything, we would still have those late night conversations that lasted until three in the morning, conversations where you made me feel needed, where I talked you out of your anger and distress and felt like I was important to someone beyond anything romantic. Too bad that wasn’t true. If I said yes then, would the fearful, stubborn, independent parts of me always win out like they do now? Would you have dragged me down with you, or would I have inspired you to higher things? Would I be able to depend on others, or would these walls I’ve built because of you still hold fast?

What if… What if I were brave? What if I came right out and told you how I felt, disregarding the fact that you might not feel the same way? What if I knew that the ping pong games and conversations about space cats and British tea meant that you felt the same butterflies that I did when we saw each other, albeit in probably a more manly way? What if I stopped being afraid of rejection and opened myself up to the possibility of being hurt, because the alternative is too beautiful to resist? What if we showed our faces to each other, instead of always taking those silly, wonderful pictures of dogs and blankets and t-shirts? Would you have said yes? Would I be asking these questions now? What if you had said no? Would that have caused even more walls to spring up? What if I had just taken an action, any action?

What if I had…?


Wednesday, August 12, 2015

Everything is Bittersweet

I'm so tired of being sad. I'm leaving for college in exactly a week, and I've been consistently sad for the past week and a half.
People always ask me, "Kira, why are you so happy all the time?" I think it's a combination of surrounding myself with people who make being happy easy, of having a relationship with God, and of doing things that I enjoy often, but I think the simplest explanation is that I live my life happy because happy is way more fun. I love being in a good mood, and even if I do end up getting upset about something, I can be coaxed out of my funk pretty easily. Because I don't WANT to be upset. I hate being sad. But I especially hate sad things that made me upset for a long time. I'm pretty sure that leaving home and saying goodbye to everything that makes me happy and walking into a situation that has nothing familiar about it can be characterized as an upsetting situation. I've been trying to cheer myself up, but every time I do, something reminds me why I don't want to go.
Like, I just got to talk on the phone today with my best friend for a long time, and that put me in a good mood, but then I remembered that I'm not going to be able to just... meet up with her at her locker to tell her a funny story that happened in class, or spontaneously get together to watch movies and eat pizza. Or, my mom got me ice cream sandwiches a couple of days ago, because I had absentmindedly remarked that I was really craving them, but then I remembered that I'm not going to have times anymore when I get surprised by little thoughtful gifts, because the only person that will really care about me in Colorado for a little while is me, and only me.
Everything I do is bittersweet, and that gets really hard.
I almost feel like I shouldn't try and cheer myself up, even if I could, 'cuz I kind of feel like I'm losing myself, almost. Like, I SHOULD be sad, because I'm losing a whole version of myself who got to chase her friends around the Fine Arts Center after school, a Kira who has a wonderful mom who gives her ice cream sandwiches when she's sad, a version of Kira who only has to worry about talking to her crush (she never will) and looking kind of stupid, but that's okay, because that Kira is clumsy and she makes mistakes and everyone around her loves her so much they hold her up when she falls. I loved being that Kira, and I'm incredibly sorry to see her go. Part of me almost feels like I should mourn her now, while I'm transitioning, because when I get to CO, I won't be able to curl up and cry, since I'll be surrounded by strangers and I have to take care of myself.
Don't get me wrong, I'm so glad I get to go out to Colorado. The practical, logical part of me knows that doing this is the right choice, that I'll grow and mature and have so much fun. I know that the pros of leaving far outweigh the cons. But the cons of leaving are the really painful ones. It may be the intelligent decision to go out to a place where I can pursue a career doing what I love to do, and I'm going to have so many more opportunities that I would encounter staying in my comfort zone, but my emotional side is also totally freaking out because I'm going to have to live without my mommy. I've dealt with a lot of crap in my life, and people have come and gone, and sometimes full out abandoned me, but my mom has always always been there for me, and it completely tears me apart that now I'm going to be the one doing the leaving.
I'm so thankful for being given this chance to work towards what I want to do, but it just hurts. I want to GO, it just really sucks that I have to LEAVE.