Things That Concern Me: Repressed Memories & Some Other Stuff
REPRESSED MEMORIES
Lately a lot of repressed memories have been coming back to me. Just randomly, at inopportune times, like in the dentist chair, talking to my boss, urinating... I don't know why it's happening, but it's happening. Maybe it's because I'm turning 30 this year, maybe it's because I've been listening to a lot of You Made It Weird with Pete Holmes podcast episodes.
Here are a few that have resurfaced within the last year or so.
My Adoption
It's not the actual adoption that I've repressed, it's the fact that my mother never sat me down and told me I was adopted. Of course like now I officially know that I was and what went down, but when I was little, little kid? She never spoke of it. I mean, I guess lucky for her that she was right when she assumed that I could take a look at the whole context of the situation and realize that "hey, I don't think I came from my mom's tummy, I mean, she's 53 years older than me, I don't have her eyes or nose or fingers and she like has the complexion of the leader of the Aryan master race white. I'm sure there's an explanation and she'll tell me when I'm older like 5 or 6."
As I'm writing this, I'm thinking that perhaps we did have the talk and I was just so distraught that she wasn't my birth mother that I repressed it. That seems more like me and my intellectual level. I'll find out the truth during my hypnotherapy.
5th Grade
For years and years I've always thought 4th grade was what scarred me, but then two weeks ago while grabbing my nonfat caramel macchiato from my barista Jesus and reading a flirt wrong memories flooded back in.
In 5th grade I asked this boy that I liked to a dance and he said no. Actually that memory is still a little foggy. I'm still trying to pinpoint whether he blatantly said no, or we went with a group of friends. I'm also trying to decipher if I really did ask him to dance and he said no but later during the dance I saw him dancing with another girl. I will have to get back to you on that. Hypnotherapy.
Another time in 5th grade I asked a different boy in 5th grade if he like wanted to "hang out", I put that in quotations not because I meant hang out as play with private parts and stuff but because it was more than hang out, I meant like go on a date. So I did it, I wrote him a note and he wrote me one back WITH HIS PHONE NUMBER and the proposal of going to see the movie LIAR LIAR. I was ecstatic. One day I struck up all the nerve I had and called the phone number on his note. HE GAVE ME A FAKE NUMBER. Do you know how crushing that is to someone who is so fearful of the phone? Equally crushing was that he was a year younger than me and we hung out in the same group.
I thought my fear of rejection only came from that time in 4th grade when someone wouldn't pass me the basketball, but I guess these two incidents sealed the deal on why I would never put myself out there again therefore was never rejected again.
That's not true, I was rejected a few years back in Minnesota and my retaliation was was a lot worse than me just ignoring it happened and moving on. What happened in Minnesota was another memory that was repressed and will stay there until I'm done writing the screenplay about it.
How I Was Cleared That I Came Out of the 5 Stages After My Dad's Death.
I never did the 5 stages properly. For starters I completely skipped anger and bargaining. Also I started with acceptance then went to denial then back to acceptance and then to depression. Once I hit depression my mom thought it was time to talk to a professional…my elementary school guidance counselor. To my dismay, one day in Kindergarten I was ripped out of probably what was my favorite classroom ever to have a session with her. Apparently I was so okay with his passing that I only needed one session. I know what made the counselor think I had accepted everything that happened. I drew a picture. It was a picture of a house, it had a rectangular body, a triangular roof, a chimney with smoke coming out. It had a detached garage, the grass was super green and there were flowers, I put birds in the super blue sky which coincidentally looked like the petals on the flowers. I drew a huge bright yellow sun with orange and yellow rays shooting out. This a sign to my counselor, told her that I was in fact back into the acceptance stage. What she failed to factor in was that maybe that scene was the only thing I was decent at drawing. She wasn't able to take note that I was a creature of habit, if I was good at something I would keep doing the same thing over and over. If she had worded it "Draw how you feel" instead of "Draw a picture" maybe she would have gotten a picture of the Hellmouth as previously seen on Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
SOME OTHER STUFF
That One Person On Facebook
There's that one person on Facebook that when I see them on my newsfeed I'm like, "YO! Like get a room Ynarn'''s Facebook!" Their status and page urk me to my core. And I bet now you're saying "Chandra, you're just jealous of their life." NO. I'm not, I am beyond a reasonable doubt NOT jealous. If I was asked right now by God and a jury of peers that I could switch lives with them, no strings attached, I would definitely say no. And now you're saying "Chandra, just block her from your newsfeed." I CAN'T! I want to, but I can't. It's like a car wreck, I'm angry at everyone in front of me holding up traffic, but when I get up to it I can't help but look and I would be mad if I had missed it.
The Sex Talk
I feel like my sex talk was very different than the "when a married man loves a married woman he puts his clarinet into your tuba." What? Your parents didn't describe a penis as a clarinet and a vagina as a tuba? Pfft. They're freaking old school, yo. The moral of my sex talk was "you make your bed and you lie in it." Which in my opinion is kind of a horrible metaphor to you reap what you sow. Which is even a worse metaphor because who uses the words reap and sow anymore? I guess a note was made that since I caught on to the adoption, I would learn myself that when I have sex it was to be safe sex. AIDS, chlamydia, herpes and syphillis weren't the things my mom instilled in me could happen if I had sex. Her emphasis was on pregnancy. Instead of Coach Carr's moto of "You will get chlamydia... and die." Her's was "If you do touch each other, you will get pregnant…and die." This is something that still scares me and I carry with me daily. I have now and forever will, an extreme fear of getting pregnant and dying. This could turn out to be very problematic when my future husband and I are ready to try for children.
Reality TV
Sometimes I ponder if I actually have a court case I can bring against reality TV and the fact that it isn't really reality. At all. I'm still looking for some precedent to help me out. I'm looking for monetary compensation for pain, suffering and the debt I've gotten to try to achieve that "reality" via botox, cupcake making and catching ducks.
The Kit Kat Commercial
That commercial that states "Now you can take a Kit Kat break even when you don't have time for a break with the new Kit Kat Minis.
I know I shouldn't assume everyone has seen this commercial so I describe to you what Kit Kat Minis are...
Kit Kat Minis are mini Kit Kat Bars.
Noooooo…what a ploy. WHAT A PLOYYYYY.
Everyone that likes Kit Kats (I don't, but I mean, if they were in front of me and I was bored, or it was a random Wednesday, or if it was sunny out, I would eat them) knows that when you eat the regular sized Kit Kats you can finish them no matter how long your break is. Even if you don't have a break you can eat it. I don't know why I have so much beef with this commercial. Maybe it's because it's a stupid marketing ploy about eating more and more Kit Kats. Maybe it's because it's a hit against the war on obesity. Maybe it's because I like Snickers better.
Lately a lot of repressed memories have been coming back to me. Just randomly, at inopportune times, like in the dentist chair, talking to my boss, urinating... I don't know why it's happening, but it's happening. Maybe it's because I'm turning 30 this year, maybe it's because I've been listening to a lot of You Made It Weird with Pete Holmes podcast episodes.
Here are a few that have resurfaced within the last year or so.
My Adoption
It's not the actual adoption that I've repressed, it's the fact that my mother never sat me down and told me I was adopted. Of course like now I officially know that I was and what went down, but when I was little, little kid? She never spoke of it. I mean, I guess lucky for her that she was right when she assumed that I could take a look at the whole context of the situation and realize that "hey, I don't think I came from my mom's tummy, I mean, she's 53 years older than me, I don't have her eyes or nose or fingers and she like has the complexion of the leader of the Aryan master race white. I'm sure there's an explanation and she'll tell me when I'm older like 5 or 6."
As I'm writing this, I'm thinking that perhaps we did have the talk and I was just so distraught that she wasn't my birth mother that I repressed it. That seems more like me and my intellectual level. I'll find out the truth during my hypnotherapy.
5th Grade
For years and years I've always thought 4th grade was what scarred me, but then two weeks ago while grabbing my nonfat caramel macchiato from my barista Jesus and reading a flirt wrong memories flooded back in.
In 5th grade I asked this boy that I liked to a dance and he said no. Actually that memory is still a little foggy. I'm still trying to pinpoint whether he blatantly said no, or we went with a group of friends. I'm also trying to decipher if I really did ask him to dance and he said no but later during the dance I saw him dancing with another girl. I will have to get back to you on that. Hypnotherapy.
Another time in 5th grade I asked a different boy in 5th grade if he like wanted to "hang out", I put that in quotations not because I meant hang out as play with private parts and stuff but because it was more than hang out, I meant like go on a date. So I did it, I wrote him a note and he wrote me one back WITH HIS PHONE NUMBER and the proposal of going to see the movie LIAR LIAR. I was ecstatic. One day I struck up all the nerve I had and called the phone number on his note. HE GAVE ME A FAKE NUMBER. Do you know how crushing that is to someone who is so fearful of the phone? Equally crushing was that he was a year younger than me and we hung out in the same group.
I thought my fear of rejection only came from that time in 4th grade when someone wouldn't pass me the basketball, but I guess these two incidents sealed the deal on why I would never put myself out there again therefore was never rejected again.
That's not true, I was rejected a few years back in Minnesota and my retaliation was was a lot worse than me just ignoring it happened and moving on. What happened in Minnesota was another memory that was repressed and will stay there until I'm done writing the screenplay about it.
How I Was Cleared That I Came Out of the 5 Stages After My Dad's Death.
I never did the 5 stages properly. For starters I completely skipped anger and bargaining. Also I started with acceptance then went to denial then back to acceptance and then to depression. Once I hit depression my mom thought it was time to talk to a professional…my elementary school guidance counselor. To my dismay, one day in Kindergarten I was ripped out of probably what was my favorite classroom ever to have a session with her. Apparently I was so okay with his passing that I only needed one session. I know what made the counselor think I had accepted everything that happened. I drew a picture. It was a picture of a house, it had a rectangular body, a triangular roof, a chimney with smoke coming out. It had a detached garage, the grass was super green and there were flowers, I put birds in the super blue sky which coincidentally looked like the petals on the flowers. I drew a huge bright yellow sun with orange and yellow rays shooting out. This a sign to my counselor, told her that I was in fact back into the acceptance stage. What she failed to factor in was that maybe that scene was the only thing I was decent at drawing. She wasn't able to take note that I was a creature of habit, if I was good at something I would keep doing the same thing over and over. If she had worded it "Draw how you feel" instead of "Draw a picture" maybe she would have gotten a picture of the Hellmouth as previously seen on Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
SOME OTHER STUFF
That One Person On Facebook
There's that one person on Facebook that when I see them on my newsfeed I'm like, "YO! Like get a room Ynarn'''s Facebook!" Their status and page urk me to my core. And I bet now you're saying "Chandra, you're just jealous of their life." NO. I'm not, I am beyond a reasonable doubt NOT jealous. If I was asked right now by God and a jury of peers that I could switch lives with them, no strings attached, I would definitely say no. And now you're saying "Chandra, just block her from your newsfeed." I CAN'T! I want to, but I can't. It's like a car wreck, I'm angry at everyone in front of me holding up traffic, but when I get up to it I can't help but look and I would be mad if I had missed it.
The Sex Talk
I feel like my sex talk was very different than the "when a married man loves a married woman he puts his clarinet into your tuba." What? Your parents didn't describe a penis as a clarinet and a vagina as a tuba? Pfft. They're freaking old school, yo. The moral of my sex talk was "you make your bed and you lie in it." Which in my opinion is kind of a horrible metaphor to you reap what you sow. Which is even a worse metaphor because who uses the words reap and sow anymore? I guess a note was made that since I caught on to the adoption, I would learn myself that when I have sex it was to be safe sex. AIDS, chlamydia, herpes and syphillis weren't the things my mom instilled in me could happen if I had sex. Her emphasis was on pregnancy. Instead of Coach Carr's moto of "You will get chlamydia... and die." Her's was "If you do touch each other, you will get pregnant…and die." This is something that still scares me and I carry with me daily. I have now and forever will, an extreme fear of getting pregnant and dying. This could turn out to be very problematic when my future husband and I are ready to try for children.
Reality TV
Sometimes I ponder if I actually have a court case I can bring against reality TV and the fact that it isn't really reality. At all. I'm still looking for some precedent to help me out. I'm looking for monetary compensation for pain, suffering and the debt I've gotten to try to achieve that "reality" via botox, cupcake making and catching ducks.
The Kit Kat Commercial
That commercial that states "Now you can take a Kit Kat break even when you don't have time for a break with the new Kit Kat Minis.
I know I shouldn't assume everyone has seen this commercial so I describe to you what Kit Kat Minis are...
Kit Kat Minis are mini Kit Kat Bars.
Noooooo…what a ploy. WHAT A PLOYYYYY.
Everyone that likes Kit Kats (I don't, but I mean, if they were in front of me and I was bored, or it was a random Wednesday, or if it was sunny out, I would eat them) knows that when you eat the regular sized Kit Kats you can finish them no matter how long your break is. Even if you don't have a break you can eat it. I don't know why I have so much beef with this commercial. Maybe it's because it's a stupid marketing ploy about eating more and more Kit Kats. Maybe it's because it's a hit against the war on obesity. Maybe it's because I like Snickers better.
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