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September 30, 2009

I feel like I’ve been going a little crazy lately.
Though I know that I have this thread of rationality running through these emotional outbursts, even if I can’t restrain myself from crying for no reason (wtf!) I still have this girl in the back of my mind rolling her eyes at my hysteria.

When I was up in my tree crying the other day (as one does) I had an imaginary conversation with a few of my teachers, who appeared beside me trying to pull me out of my self-obsession.

Them: well they didn’t actually say anything, they just stood there floating up next to the tree but not really on the branch because there’s not much room.

Me” “Look, just leave me alone. I know that I’m being a brat… I just want to cry for a bit”

Them: well once again they didn’t really say anything but they looked at me and THOUGHT “what intended result will come from your acting like this?”

Me: “Well I’ll get the attention, love and care that I want and feel like I’m not getting”… “oh”… “crap”…


Me: “It’s never going to come from anybody else, is it?”

Them: smile… shake heads.

Me: cries a bit more hysterically now

I remember being quite young– 7 maybe– and dealing with the stress of school was just not fun for me, between trying to please the teachers, trying to navigate the delicate politics of making and keeping friends, and trying to take care of my mum and make sure she stayed safe even when I wasn’t with her (ah the responsibilities that kids take on), it was constant stress. I used to sit and imagine that life as a small child, pre-school days, was much easier, much less responsible, much less scary and traumatic. But then pre-school, I remembered, was when my mum and dad would fight constantly. This was still stressful. No, I thought, the ideal state to be in is that of a baby– you have all your needs provided for you, you don’t have to deal with people, don’t have to worry about your mum being safe, and don’t have to do homework or please your teachers. In fact you don’t even have to WALK yourself– you get carried or pushed around.

I used to gaze and babies in prams longingly. Not because I liked babies (I hated and envied them) but because I wanted to be pushed around in a pram. And to be held, and loved and not surrounded by a mountain of expectations and things to do and weights to bear.

Responsibility. For how long have I been running from it?
And how fast is it catching up?

No wonder I can’t stop crying :).

One Comment leave one →
  1. Maria permalink
    October 1, 2009 21:22

    I love your writing rebecca and that one writing about responsibility made me recognize something. One thing is that I love those conversations! I recognize too the sense of responsibility that I am avoiding becoming at the same time pissed on myself of not giving the chance to allow me take that responsibility of who I am. That cry too, although I am not expressing it on the outside the little girl inside cries screaming for different things. I recognize too that feeling of being pushed rather than taking responsibility of oneself.

    Thank you Rebecca, reading that saw a small but very significant link in many things.

    Have fun! Maria

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