Bria's Blogie

MY side of the story. Part 3, the REAL McCoy.

I do apologize for the long wait. I didn't mean for that to happen; life got in the way.

What happened next is this; I met a boy at the beginning of my junior year in high school that would be my Achilles' Heel . His name was Kenny. (It feels odd saying his name; I rarely mention his name because it makes me shudder, much like the name Voldemort in the Harry Potter series for those HP fans out there. However, I have decided to be bold like Harry and not lend more fear to the name than it deserves, after all, "what's in a name?" Oh, yes, I just pulled Shakespeare. Cool points for me!) He sat in front of me and next to one of my good friends, Stacen, in Spanish class. We talked in class-- he, Stacen and I-- and got lots of "excessive talking" marks on our report cards that semester. We found out that Kenny was a transfer from a much smaller district in the area and didn't know anyone on campus and so I took it upon myself to be his friend until he could find a little click of his own. During this time, the oh so fun, testosterone filled get togethers at my house continued in full swing, including at least two boys if not three or four. Oh, I was so mean.

Like I mentioned last entry, that Christmas break was the turning point. Kenny is the one that first introduced me to "extreme sports", particularly mountain  biking.  Over Christmas break, Kenny was out biking and he road is bike off a cliff. No joke. He broke his collar bone in the fall and then walked back into civilization. Crazy kid. Anyway, he had to have surgery to fix it, obviously and was on some nasty pain meds that kept him asleep most of the day and delirious the rest. Because Kenny still didn't have any friends at school to be heard of, I called him everyday during his delusions to keep him company since he couldn't leave his house all Christmas break and into the next semester. After that we were inseparable.

We hung out pretty much everyday and people started to wonder. I blew it all off. Then people started to worry once they met and got to know Kenny. I got defensive and was driven by the accusatory people toward Kenny instead of listening to what they had to say and taking a look for myself. What was it exactly that people didn't seem too fond of in him? I'm still not sure I know what they saw, but I know what I see now looking back. He was very legalistic in his religious beliefs for one-- refused to watch tv for one, amongst other things-- and extremely manipulative. I believe that covers it. He also got me interested in other, not so harmful things, like those extreme sports, and being a concert junkie. For those additions to my interests, I am thankful.

What the legalism and manipulating meant for me was this: he twisted pretty words to convince me into many of his very legalistic religious beliefs-- if you'll remember, I had just taken a vow to not date, which is rather out there for today's society, so basically he took that idea and ran with it and my mind. In the end he had me convinced that all my friends were terrible influences on me and that I didn't need to hang out with them anymore at all. (I am going to apologize to those friends of mine that I ditched right here and now. Please keep reading and you will see that I was not in my right mind.) He also had me change my personality to match the ideal Christian woman, which was to be humble, silent and very conservatively dressed-- hence the baggy jeans, t-shirts, no make-up or hairstyle. This brings us to about September/ October of my senior year, fall 2005.

Now you're probably asking, how is that a smart young girl like me got into this mess. The thing is, that those pretty words made him look like a spiritual leader to me and just about every youth leader in the country beats it into their young female students' minds that the man they choose to wed must be a spiritual leader. Yes, at 17 I figured I had found the one for me. If you could have gotten my true future plans out of me in September, I would have told you I didn't know because I thought I'd probably be married in about two years to an Air Force guy-- Kenny had decided to join the AF-- and who knows where I would be. I knew I'd be in school, but where and what for I was entirely sure. I had changed completely for this guy and given up my dreams to follow him around in the Air Force. Ok, this is the part where I sound really pathetic and I admit it, I was a pathetic foolish girl. I'm still pathetic, but not nearly so foolish.

I realize this is getting long, but I have to get this out in one sitting or I might change my mind. Kudos to you if you've actually read this far, you are a true friend and really do care. Soapbox for a moment: I love all you, friends, dearly and I hope you know that. Back to the story...

In September some time, Greg comes over to one of the boy filled nights with another friend of mine, Daniel. (For clarification's sake-- because I have several friends by that name-- this one is the one that I have known since infancy.) We watched Josie and the Pussycats--worst movie EVER!-- and then Greg offered to drive us all over to Daniel's house to take him home. After Daniel was dropped off, Greg kidnapped me. (We really do still refer to this as "the kidnapping".) He drove me around town for about an hour telling me that he thought Kenny was bad news. I of course was freaking out because he wouldn't take me home and did not listen to a word he was saying. To this day I couldn't tell you what he said. He did finally take me home though. I was literally shaking from fright when I arrived home.

Then in mid to late November things began to change again. Kenny withdrew from me and became a completely different person. I don't know how else to explain it. What was occurring in his mind was that he wasn't so sure that we were meant to be together and he drug out the process of making a decision for at least two months. Some days he wanted nothing to do with me and others he gave me such hope that we'd be ok in the end. Those two months or so were an emotional roller coaster straight from Hell for me, because if you will recall I had alienated myself from every friend and family member I had.

In early or mid January he finally did break it off with me. I remember blogging at the time that I felt as if the Kenny I knew had died and I mourned as if he really had died. I still feel that way; the Kenny I knew no longer exists. Some cruel demon had taken my Kenny's place in the Kenny body. I know that's not true; the last Kenny I knew was just another shade of the total Kenny.I still struggle with that concept because the two were just that different.

There are several other things I still struggle with from this situation too. I am not as outgoing as I once was. Mostly because I'm still fighting the "good Christian woman" image seared into my brain and also I tend to miss opportunities to speak my mind because I often check myself to make sure that's what I really believe and not just something that was crammed into my head by Kenny or anyone else. I am also unsure of how to act in social situations on occasion because I lost quite a bit of my social skills during that long period of seeing no one on a regular basis but Kenny. I have gotten WAY better with that, but I'd like to improve more. I still have a tendency to wear t-shirts and jeans and go to class with no make-up and my hair all over the place. That's mostly because I value sleep more than fashion anymore. So now you know why it is I'm a little bit on the socially awkward side.

And so there we must leave me in my torturous memories for now: a self that I no longer recognized inside or out curled in the fetal position in a corner of my room, sobbing over a guy's "death" that I had thought I'd marry one day, wondering where it was I could turn and what I could do now with no human connections and no ambitions left in this world.  

MY side of the story. Part 3, a prelude.

This entry is not so much part of the story. This entry is more or less to prepare myself mentally to dive back into a chapter in my life which I have purposefully locked away and swallowed the key. I have asked myself dozens of times over the past few days since I decided to write this story exactly why it is that I want to revisit these particular memories and have struggled to answer the question in full, but not in vain.

First, of all I write this for me. Writing has always been my form of cheap therapy. I NEED to write this out for my sake. I feel as if not writing it down before has not allowed me to sort out the situation for myself and so I've created a monster. Writing about it should bring my personal demon back down to size, a size that I can better punch in the stomach and boot to Timbuktu! One reason that I have yet to write about this is for fear that the main character in this part of the story may or may not still read here. I don't mind spilling my guts to the world-- I believe in wearing everything on my sleeve-- but spilling this particular bit of guts to where he could see I fear that he will think me weak and perhaps renew his haunt. I don't mind people in general seeing me at my weakest, in retrospect only-- I think this encourages people to remember that everyone is human and vulnerable, including themselves-- but allowing my monsters to see me weak, I am not so fond of that idea. Perhaps I've put my feet on Satan's door mat, but then again by writing and sorting this out in my head I will make myself stronger in the end by better understanding myself.

Second, I write for my friends and family. I think knowing more details of this situation will help people to understand me a little better. I feel like I have mood swings due to some lasting effects of this part of my life. Please understand that I'm struggling and trying desperately hard to climb out of this grave I dug years ago, but I do relapse. Some days are better than others and each day I find I cope better.

Lastly, I write this for others out there that have or are experiencing something similar. I know of one right now. She doesn't see it in the least, but of course I didn't either when I was in the throes. Know that you are not alone and there is hope and healing in Jesus.

Now that I've scared the living daylights out of everyone near and far, I assure you all that I am physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually sound. There is no need to ask me about my health or the situation, just read the next entry and try to understand where this story comes from-- me, when I was about seventeen. I will probably be working this out on paper elsewhere for a few days. Do not fret then when I don't write; I'm working it out and you will see those fine results in a few days!

MY side of the story. Part 2

Now, where was I... oh yes, that first summer.

The summer came to an end as did SAT class and so it seemed Greg would drift off into the oblivion of my memory. Haha, over his dead body. A week or so after class had ended or toward the end of class-- please remember that I had no intention of making any lasting memories here, so I made no point to remember timing details-- Greg somehow sneakily got me to give him my AIM screen name because in high school everything revolves around AIM, ya know. So we chit chatted there and then he asked me to go to a movie, not just any movie mind you, but Pirates of the Caribbean. I had been wanting to see that very badly and so I jumped at the invitation not thinking of what would come of my acceptance.

Greg picked me up in his mom's suburban that night, I do remember that, since he was still truck-less. Classy. We went to the movie and sat directly behind two of my teachers and their wives out on a double date, I suppose. You know, one of those women died last Friday. Wasn't that a lovely tangent? Anyway... about half way through the movie, Greg started texting me, making cute little comments about how I looked nice, etc. I knew what was coming and desperately wishing I had waited to see the movie with my gal pals in the following weeks. And then the text I dreaded most arrived; "Will you be my girlfriend?" it read. I texted back that we'd talk after the movie because I just wanted to watch this awesome movie! Poor thing. I could feel his bubble burst there beside me.

After the movie he was a gentleman and took me straight home but on the way I told him as gently as I could that I wasn't wanting to date anyone at the moment, with a heavy emphasis on ANYONE. Maybe that's why he kept coming back; since I wasn't with anyone there was still hope in his mind. Little did I know that that night was the first of MANY MANY rejections that I would have to dish out to Greg, the beginning of a sad sad cycle. 

After that we remained casual buddies for several months. I invited him to my seventeenth birthday party. I invited him over when I had other guy friends over. (Little did I know that most of those guys were actually each competing for my attentions. Poor things. I put them through Hades-- inviting them all over at once, forcing them to be cordial with their competition. Looking back with all the testosterone running through that room I wonder how a brawl didn't erupt at my feet.)

Things probably began to change between Greg and I over Christmas break that year. Things changed between myself and everyone about that time. I don't think I've looked at the world the same since then. I felt like the sun shone brighter than ever when in reality a funeral shroud obscured the light from my eyes and I'm not so sure I have even yet managed to rip it from my face entirely. In almost every scholarship application I've ever written at some point they ask the applicant to discuss a turning point in their life. I speak now of mine and I as a rule I don't discuss it in length to anyone, until... tomorrow perhaps?

MY side of the story. Part 1

When people ask how Greg and I got together I usually refer them to him because, 1) Greg's just a great story teller and 2) the story is wrapped up in heart wrenching agony for me and pains me to tell it. However, today being Valentine's I'm going to tell it from my angle. This entry may actually take several edits until I am totally satisfied, so if this get posted after actual Valentine's Day that's why.

To be completely honest I have no idea exactly what day Greg and I met. For me that day was just another sweltering summer day in 2003 except for the fact that I was starting an SAT prep course which met at the high school on the other side of the tracks. I was nervous; I had signed up for the 1 pm class while all my friends had signed up for the 11 am class. (Yes, I and my friends were THAT nerdy, ok?) So here I was waltzing into the rival high school into a classroom filled with people I didn't know and.... I walked in on another class. How embarrassing for a sixteen year old! Apparently my class didn't actually start until 1:30. I sat in the hall twiddling my thumbs for thirty minutes, anxiety heightening every moment and then the classroom door swung open and the room emptied. As people filed out of the room, I realized that this was the earlier SAT prep class as my friends piled out. I chatted with them for a little while and then walked to what I was sure was the doom of a wonderful summer. Let's face it; good summers don't involve school. I apologized to the teacher for walking in on her earlier lecture and took a seat. I don't recall where I sat specifically because I changed seats everyday in that classroom and you'll soon find out why.

The teacher wandered out to take a break from the classroom and so left me sitting there all alone. Good; more time to build up the nervousness in the room which was about to suffocate me, just what I needed. Finally a girl walked in and I introduced myself. I don't recall her name, but she was really sweet and I see her around town every now and again. We made small talk as the rest of the class strolled in and chose a seat. I believe that day she and I were the only females in the room, besides the teacher. I knew that was trouble from the start because I had recently taken a vow to not date for a rather long, yet to be determined amount of time. That in itself is not trouble, but the reason behind that vow was that I had gone a wee bit boy crazy the school year before and dated I believe five different guys on and off and it just created a whole lot of drama with me and my gal pals that I didn't want. "Hoes before before beaus", right?

Supposedly Greg was there. I didn't take much notice of him that day. I probably didn't take much notice of him the day after either, but about a week into the class I realized that this kid ALWAYS sat next to me. So I devised a plan to pick a different seat the next day and see if he followed and sure enough he did follow me to a new seat, just like he did everyday after that. At this point, I was thinking something along the lines of, "Oh great. Please just go away and leave me alone! I don't need this right now!" Not that I thought he was smokin' hot or something but he was hilarious and I couldn't help but laugh at all his stupid jokes.

Probably what turned the corner to make Greg a friend and not just some annoying guy that sat next to me ALL THE TIME in class was he got in an car accident and so was truck-less. Greg asked me if he could get a ride home after class. I decided to be a good girl and agreed to take him home even though his house was about half an hour round trip in the wrong direction for me. We chit chatted for the next few weeks on those car trips and became friends.

Ok, well I got through the summer, but I need to get to class in the present time. I guess this will be more of an installment series, which is fitting because Greg could write a whole book with the length of the story he gives on this topic. Sheesh. We'll get back to this soon!

Topical Pantothenic Acid?

I have felt like my head is filled with cotton balls all week; I need more rest desperately. In one of my many moments on staring into space today, my eyes rested upon some name-brand hand soap on my kitchen sink. After staring at this bottle intensely I came too and was perplexed by exactly what I was staring at, so I picked up the bottle and read the label. On the the label one of the little seller points on the front is that the soap has vitamins E and B5. Vitamin E makes sense--it makes skin softer-- however, B5 does not. More commonly known as pantothenic acid, this vitamin assists in metabolism and synthesis of carbs, proteins and fats in the body-- basically helps make energy-- according to my nutrition text. 

My question is, if this vitamin is concerned with internal energy why would someone want to put this in a soap to be applied topically? Anyone out there in cyber space have an idea?