My Story

It's hard to put my story into the perspective of one blog post. I've never done well with explaining myself in general, and I've found myself waiting for classmates to publish their posts each week and reading theirs for ideas (sorry, everyone). The only way I came up with was to organize my life experiences along a common trend that I seem to follow without fail, and that is my bad luck.

I had the fortune of being the only girl out of four siblings, and to grow up in a home filled with faith and love. Even if I don't align myself exactly with the beliefs of my parents, I'm extremely grateful for the foundation they gave me.

I'd have to say, though, that my good luck gave out at the age of three months. In August of 1992, my parents made the brilliant decision to move from San Diego, CA... to OHIO. What? I have no answers. I like snow. It's fine. Seasons aside, the job market in Ohio didn't prove to be any better than it had been in California, and my family always struggled with money. It's not something I thought of as out of the ordinary until I went to public school; when I was younger, I would read "Dear America" books and Laura Ingalls Wilder, peeking into the lives of people who actually suffered. Why did it matter that I couldn't have an American Girl doll for Christmas when Laura Ingalls traveled across the prairie and was lowkey attacked by U.S settlers for trying to defend Native Americans on their property?

 But then (when Bonnie decided I was cultured enough from all that reading to go out into the world), I got to public school. I couldn't believe the types of people that I was surrounded by actually existed. Everyone was wearing these shirts that said "Hollister." What is that? Is that a band? I actually asked someone that question while we were getting ready for gym class one day. She told me yes. Shoutout to Veronica, because I thought Hollister was all the rage in the music scene until 9th grade. Basically, this is a really drawn-out way to explain that making friends was hard, and that's tough to admit even now. I'd like to pretend that I fit into Amherst Junior High and at least had a small group of friends right away, but it took so much time for me to learn how to talk to other people my age that I developed a habit of fading out and observing my fellow specimen to see how they interacted with each other. I would literally go weeks without talking, which is why I have a tendency now to be quiet for long periods of time--it's just natural. Things slowly got easier as the years progressed and I made friends, but I think that this experience built character in a very unique way. I don't invest myself in relationships that I don't see a value in; it's harsh, but it's completely true. One thing that came about from me observing all those girls around me in 8th grade was that it didn't seem like anyone even liked each other. No one cared about anything except the clothes they were wearing ("Wow," I thought to myself, "Hollister must be really good live!"), and since my mom couldn't afford to buy me new clothes, I didn't think I had anything to talk to them about. My family couldn't afford for me to play sports at school either, so I missed out on the team-building aspect of that generation.

Essentially, I spent five consecutive years learning how to make really shitty friends...and I'm so glad I did. I know what comes off now is stand-offish and even unfriendly, but I need time to invest in others because I won't put the effort in unless I know that it's worth it. I know that's not the healthiest way to approach friendships and relationships, and I'm working on it. But it's also something that I've finally come to like about myself. Even if I don't have the most money or the most friends on Facebook, I know that everything I do is honest and genuine, and that matters more to me.