Beginning of a Success Story...I hope
Aug. 24th, 2002 12:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beandelphikiToday was a productive day. I got a great deal of stuff for school out of the way with mom. I have now paid all my fees and signed up for the "new student" orientation on the third, and I have all my books.
In the car, we had some long discussions about getting a job. We discussed how to make my resume look good. I feel much more confident about the possibility of getting my ass employed than I ever did before.
This afternoon, I was thinking about how I felt about this topic just a year ago. At about this time last year, my parents called me down to the living room to have a "talk" with me. About the fact that I've never had a job. About the fact that I was a dropout, even though I'd made plans by then to go back to school.
About the fact that I am a complete and utter failure, destined to be like my aunt Tanya, who lives with three dogs she couldn't even afford to buy, let alone care for. Who mooches money and steals cars and furniture from the rest of the family.
"You're going to be just like HER, a little spoiled brat!"
Yeah, I'm a big fucking failure all right. Can't do anything right, never could.
I just sat there with the tears rolling down my face. All I honestly wanted to do a year ago was die. I had the aspirin even. I don't know why I didn't do it. Maybe because I wanted to see myself become a boy first.
I sat there and cried, and marveled that I was crying. This boy who never cries. This boy who doesn't feel. Emotions mean nothing to me. What you feel is not important, only what you think. What you think presides over all. And still, I cried.
It amazed me, because only a few weeks ago I had cried just this way as I told my mother why I felt I had to go back to school. She was furious at me, because to her, I wasn't a dropout. I was "homeschooling." But I knew the truth, because I knew who stayed in bed all day, who was afraid to venture outside, who saw judgment in every gaze, and ran from it. Who never did any work and would never amount to shit. A high-school dropout, that was me, and I knew it.
I went back.
But I cried, and cried, and cried over this fight. Then I cried again while my parents told me I had to get a job.
It amazed me because I think the last time I cried before that, my father had punched me in the face. Not the same thing.
I felt like there were pieces of me scattered. I was coming apart, and I was scared to death. No one saw it except me, and no one could help me but me. And I was pretty sure I couldn't do that.
Back to the "talk."
"You have to get a job," my father said. "You can't live off us forever. For one thing, we won't let you. When it comes time, we'll throw you out if we have to, force you to do something for yourself. We've been talking, and we won't let you end up like Tanya."
"I-I can't," I sobbed.
"Why not?"
"I don't want people to yell at me..."
"Who says you'll get yelled at?"
"When I make a mistake...I'll get yelled at...I don't want to make a mistake..." I cried harder as I contemplated the surety of compounding my failures.
"Look, Dan," my father stared hard at me. "It sounds like you have a serious self-esteem problem. You need to do something about that."
"HOW?"
"Get involved when you get back to school. Get a job and try hard at it. Achieve something, it will make you feel good."
Of course, he didn't understand at all. I've achieved all my life. My grades are high and I don't make an effort. Nearly anything I want to do, I can do. And if I can't...I don't do it.
I was facing, for possibly the first time, the idea that I was going to have to do something I might not excel at. How could I face that? I didn't think I could.
Flash forward a year.
I'm going to get myself a job. By the end of September at the absolute latest.
I'm going to get my parents to teach me some life skills I think I sadly lack - like how to manage money, for example.
I'm not going to be a failure.
In the car, we had some long discussions about getting a job. We discussed how to make my resume look good. I feel much more confident about the possibility of getting my ass employed than I ever did before.
This afternoon, I was thinking about how I felt about this topic just a year ago. At about this time last year, my parents called me down to the living room to have a "talk" with me. About the fact that I've never had a job. About the fact that I was a dropout, even though I'd made plans by then to go back to school.
About the fact that I am a complete and utter failure, destined to be like my aunt Tanya, who lives with three dogs she couldn't even afford to buy, let alone care for. Who mooches money and steals cars and furniture from the rest of the family.
"You're going to be just like HER, a little spoiled brat!"
Yeah, I'm a big fucking failure all right. Can't do anything right, never could.
I just sat there with the tears rolling down my face. All I honestly wanted to do a year ago was die. I had the aspirin even. I don't know why I didn't do it. Maybe because I wanted to see myself become a boy first.
I sat there and cried, and marveled that I was crying. This boy who never cries. This boy who doesn't feel. Emotions mean nothing to me. What you feel is not important, only what you think. What you think presides over all. And still, I cried.
It amazed me, because only a few weeks ago I had cried just this way as I told my mother why I felt I had to go back to school. She was furious at me, because to her, I wasn't a dropout. I was "homeschooling." But I knew the truth, because I knew who stayed in bed all day, who was afraid to venture outside, who saw judgment in every gaze, and ran from it. Who never did any work and would never amount to shit. A high-school dropout, that was me, and I knew it.
I went back.
But I cried, and cried, and cried over this fight. Then I cried again while my parents told me I had to get a job.
It amazed me because I think the last time I cried before that, my father had punched me in the face. Not the same thing.
I felt like there were pieces of me scattered. I was coming apart, and I was scared to death. No one saw it except me, and no one could help me but me. And I was pretty sure I couldn't do that.
Back to the "talk."
"You have to get a job," my father said. "You can't live off us forever. For one thing, we won't let you. When it comes time, we'll throw you out if we have to, force you to do something for yourself. We've been talking, and we won't let you end up like Tanya."
"I-I can't," I sobbed.
"Why not?"
"I don't want people to yell at me..."
"Who says you'll get yelled at?"
"When I make a mistake...I'll get yelled at...I don't want to make a mistake..." I cried harder as I contemplated the surety of compounding my failures.
"Look, Dan," my father stared hard at me. "It sounds like you have a serious self-esteem problem. You need to do something about that."
"HOW?"
"Get involved when you get back to school. Get a job and try hard at it. Achieve something, it will make you feel good."
Of course, he didn't understand at all. I've achieved all my life. My grades are high and I don't make an effort. Nearly anything I want to do, I can do. And if I can't...I don't do it.
I was facing, for possibly the first time, the idea that I was going to have to do something I might not excel at. How could I face that? I didn't think I could.
Flash forward a year.
I'm going to get myself a job. By the end of September at the absolute latest.
I'm going to get my parents to teach me some life skills I think I sadly lack - like how to manage money, for example.
I'm not going to be a failure.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2002-08-24 12:13 pm (UTC)I was facing, for possibly the first time, the idea that I was going to have to do something I might not excel at. How could I face that? I didn't think I could.
I face a similar problem to that...I don't try AT ALL and I'm getting 90's in school. I'm afraid of the world, of getting a job ((though I am going to try to apply for the library)), of living on my own, managing money, getting relationships....pretty much....everything?
I don't know what to do, but I'm taking the smallest steps I can...even though they are quite pathetic. A few days back when I talked to that girl and asked her what she did for a living, THAT was a step I'm proud of.
I'm super confused with life, and I'm trying to sort it out, but I believe there is no real way for me to figure it out. The doubt is still there...
((Yeah, sorry to babble my problems on your journal --_--))
(no subject)
Date: 2002-08-24 01:38 pm (UTC)Although I'd like to point out that I think those fears are totally normal at your age (not to talk down to you, or anything) and you still have a few years before you REALLY have to face this stuff without the cover of childhood.