10 02 2010

I don’t want my blog to become my pity party.  And I know that this is only my second post about this.  But I already feel like I’m whining and begging for attention.

I woke up this morning fine.  We had a two hour delay, so I let myself sleep until 8.  From what I had done with Amanda yesterday [talk, eat crap] I thought I had gotten the worst of it out of my system.  Or I at least could control myself.  And I really didn’t think about it at school today.

And then I texted Leah before 7th period, asking how we were going to get home.  Seventh period is choir.  With my crazy-brilliant, crazy-intimidating choir director.  He’s the one I’m determined to talk to without blushing with embarrassment and nerves before I graduate.  For various reasons [probably the biggest being laziness], I didn’t wear a bra today.  And so when we did massages at the beginning of class [it’s a choir thing] I told Nick I didn’t want one because I was sore.  And in all honesty I’m not too bad, I just didn’t want him massaging me and then being all “hey, she’s not wearing a bra” because I assume that to be the typical boy response.  So I sit down in my chair and my director walks up and asks me what I’m doing.  And I tell him I don’t want a massage.

“Are you under the impression that massages are optional?”

Silence.

“They’re not.  Stand up.  Nothing is optional in this class.”

At this point, I was just embarrassed and felt terribly awkward.  And then he asked me why I didn’t want a massage and Nick answered that I was sore and then my director gives me that looking-into-my-soul glare that he does so well and asks me why I am sore.  And I said I was in a car crash.

Why can I lie about everything else and not this?  Of course the combination of intimidating director and my recent recovery from crying jags only set me off.  My eyes cloud with tears and I don’t even remember what he asked me after that, all I know is that he kept asking questions and I couldn’t open my mouth because then I wouldn’t be able to hold it in anymore.  He walked off, probably realizing that he had upset me, and Julio, who now had his hands on my shoulders, told me he would just pretend he was massaging me.  I think at this point I had bent my hands into my hands.  Our other director came up to me; she’s the motherly type.  She asked me if I’d like to have a moment to myself, and I said yes and bolted out of the room, down the hall, and into the bathroom.

These things never feel real.  Like I felt like I was reenacting some scene from a movie, when I locked myself in the last stall and slid down the wall until I was hugging my knees.  I just sat there and sobbed for about 3 minutes.  That’s not me.  But that was me.

It took another couple minutes to wipe my eyes and examine how much my lips like to swell up when I cry.  The rest of class I spent concentrating on anything but a face, including mine [we face mirrors in the choir room].  I talked to my directors after class.  With more tears.  I’m not mad at him.  He was just being himself without realizing what was going on with me.  Any other day and I would have just gone red-faced back to my place.

When school was out I checked my phone.  I didn’t have a ride.  My sister had cheerleading.  I went back to my stall.  I called two people.  Neither answered.  By the third, I was getting upset again.  She picked up, I broke down.  I don’t feel like writing anymore.  You know enough.  It’s out of my system.  Ish.

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4 responses

10 02 2010
DForks

Instead of offering pity during your recovery, I’ll just say that your writing put me smack-dab in those moments. You’ll look back and be proud of what those emotions helped you create.

11 02 2010
thebrookereview

Well, I’m definitely not going to say your blog is becoming a pity party because it really isn’t. This is a big part of your life right now and its YOUR blog. Write what you want and don’t feel ashamed. To put all this out there even by just trying to get it out of your system is brave.

11 02 2010
Jack

DForks put it better than I can, and, well… as a random commenter on your blog whom you’ve never actually met, all I can really say is that, like any difficult event, it’ll get better. It just takes time and effort. And you shouldn’t feel bad for writing about your experience, either, especially not on your own blog. Use it as a form of closure, maybe. Just remember that your family and friends are there for you – and there are a couple thousand other people across the world who’ll always be around to tell you that you rock. Get better soon, ‘kay?

12 02 2010
LP

Hi Marion,

There are emotions maybe only time can heal. But I want to know everyone is the product of his own experiences, good or bad. But you will survive this, though it might be painful to go through at the time. And whatever happened to you will make you who you are, not a whiny teenage girl you make yourself out to be. Maybe talking more to friends a lot more will help. Oh, and the holiday coming too. I’m sure that’s a good distraction.

Hang in there. 😀

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