I realize that I left out a lot about much of my own emotions during those last few Longview years. I guess some would say it was probably a classic example of whirlwind and rollercoaster moments in my life. I am someone who tends to have emotions to an extreme. If someone were to describe my reaction, they would probably capitalize the emotion as a minimum.

I wanted nothing less than to move away from the place I had grown up in all my life and to leave the friends behind that meant so much to me. I had nightmares of losing people to death. I contemplated my options for figuring out some way of not moving with my family, like running away. It wasn't practical though. To top off the struggle and inner rebellion against moving, God was sending some other deep, painful, jar-breaking trials. One stands out above all the rest but it is too complicated, too personal, too emotional even still, and more importantly, not suited to be posted on a public blog. You get the idea though. A relationship with a lifelong friend had been fading into nonexistence through a route of anger, bitterness, and frustration. Friendships made at school tended to be unstable with many as I was faced with the reality of those people who would turn away from friends at the talk of boys, boys, boys and other more popular people. My youth group at church was a divided one--two groups--one more popular and outgoing, the others tending to be of a different mindset and seeking something different, and we went through youth leaders as the church began a slow decline towards closing. (I look at all of these and realize how many separate blog posts I could make on any one of these.) Relationships within family were minimal really I guess--my sister was off at college and we fought whenever she was home, a lot in continuance of the six years before she went home (K-6). My younger brother and I banded together as needed, but mostly by this time I ignored him as an annoyance to my life due to selfishness and embarassment. The older brother was also in college and not around very much. My parents were both busy busy working; I was on my own most of those summers. I clung close to my small group of good friends and continued to burn through books during spare time. I hadn't stopped reading really once I had learned at the age of 4. I was a nerd even then. :-) But back to the point. I was on my own a lot. I grew depressed. I lived in a haunted fear from the past. The present was a tangled mess. I rebelled against the future I was face with. Suicide entered my mind as an option. I thought of the different ways--pill-popping or slicing my wrists. Pills weren't practical and didn't usually work. Slicing my wrists presented to me the problem of not wanting to leave the mess behind for my family to deal with although I contemplated methods of saving them trouble even there. Something tugged at me away and fought hard. I had a kitchen knife horizontally across left wrist one day--I held that black handle in the kitchen next to the open drawer. "You're too smart for this. I didn't make you smart to die this soon. You have a life to live." I put the knife away and walked away. I think that would have been the summer before 8th grade, but possibly 9th. I kept all my feelings and thoughts to myself, talking to no one. Some time later, our little youth group now very diminished--9th grade I believe--attended a play at a church in Tyler about people who face judgement after a plane crashes. Afterwards when getting dinner, I admitted to this circle of my friends the torment I had gone through. I don't remember why I did that. Maybe I wanted the attention.

It's kind of sad but I find myself being one who needs attention. As a younger gal I had loved getting involved with anything related to drama at church; actually this continued even as a teenager when I started to sing with the church choir. I liked getting awards and being recognized. I loved sharing my work in class up until a point--7th grade. I think after that a lot of my own work related to poetry and stories had gotten more personal. I even was involved as I could with drama in Lake City--with summer theatre and directing/acting in school stuff, singing in a talent show--the talent show is a separate story from this though. Maybe that's also why I was involved in sports and orchestra in junior high, and enjoyed piano recitals when I took lessons when I was in elementary school. I always wanted to relate moments of pride to any who would listen--such as when I was baptized in second grade and wanting to share stories of my daddy's hunting glories.

This was probably part of the reason I grew to be disliked in elementary school so much--to be seen as bragging. I don't think so much that it was even really bragging back then. There was something more innocent to it than there was when I was older. As I began to see that people didn't care (I guess Piaget would say I was moving out of the pre-operational, egocentric stage of development), I started to keep a little more and more to myself--even seeing myself as better than those other snobbish people. It was me, and yet it wasn't. It was either put up a rocky facade of not caring about what they said about me and really becoming the snob they said I was, or be burned by their hurtful words. I buried myself further and further into other worlds of the books I read and was still a fairly pleasant person to most other people it seemed. The preppy types only saw me as smart and as a teacher's pet. I only saw them as people whose families had money and they weren't afraid to show off, even while still yet only wanting to be their friend. Even though it's been covered up and abused, forgotten and neglected, part of me is that little girl who wants to be everybody's friend. I quit trying by the end of sixth grade and decided to keep to those who would be my friend--usually ending up in groups of people who were also neglected and outcasted as different. I used being a teacher's pet to my advantage and sought to be the best in school during middle school. I was blessed with mostly good teachers in school. and God graced me with the friends the undeserving me I did have--those friends who put up with me and stood by me, modeling to me what a true friend was. By the end of eighth grade I had firmly tried to hide away from academic attention such as waiting and double-checking answers until I wasn't the first one to turn in a quiz or test. Sure I was involved enough to have attention--being on the undefeated basketball team (I wasn't very good though) and being in the "student council." Yet somehow...I don't know. I changed a lot during my eighth grade year though. I don't know how much different I am today from the person I was at the end of that year and somewhat through ninth grade--because I changed again in ninth grade and through leaving Longview and than even more upon coming to college.

I don't know if I was so involved with different things because I wanted attention; I wanted to make friends, or because I'm just someone who likes to be involved. Maybe it's a little of all. At any rate, that paints a bit more of the picture of my last years in Longview. Next stop (barring anything unexpected), Lake City.
- posted by anna @ 1:32 AM