Traumatizing Events That Shaped My Life: Vol. 1

I'm 25 years old.  Okay, I'm 26.  Fine. I'm 26 1/2 years old. I still don't think I know who I truly am as a person, but I'm slowly learning day by day.  Each day that goes by I realize just a little more how awesome I am.  I’m smart enough to know that I didn’t come to this point in my life on my own.  I believe that there are certain moments in a person’s life that help define how that person turns out.  For some people it’s one huge event, while for others there are many spread throughout the years.  I would like to share with you (in no particular order) some of the events have helped shape me (so far)…

The Rock

    When I was around 11 or 12 years old, I was around the corner playing with a friend. I had brought over my bike (complete with helmet), soccer ball, wiffle ball bat, and every other possible toy a tomboy could have.  For some reason or another we had become bored with the toys and decided it would be more fun to skip rocks into the street when cars passed by.  Then for some other reason, I got bored of that and threw a small rock at my friend.  (at the time and immediately following I had said that I had thrown it at her feet, but in hindsight, I may have thrown it a little higher)  But we are going with the feet angle, because I need to look like the victim in this story.  She was clearly and understandably angry at this gesture of mine and tried to retaliate by picking up a bigger rock and threatening to throw it at me.  I will admit, I can dish out pain, but in no way, shape or form take it in.  I threatened her right back and told her if she threw that rock I was taking my bike and my tomboy toys and going home.  She said “Fine, I won’t.  Here, come take the rock.”  She holds out her hand palm up with the rock, I walk over without a care in the world.  I mean seriously, what could happen?  Next thing I know I’m bent over, holding the left side of my forehead, right next to my eyebrow.  I feel this huge bump, and think to myself, great a bump on my head.  I stand up and see my friend go pale looking at me; I then look my hand and see a massive amount of blood, its running down my face as well.  I have no idea what to do, I grab my bike and I'm about to pedal away to my house.  For some reason I will never forget this exchange of words.  My friend goes “What about all your stuff?”  (she was referring to my tomboy toys).  I replied with “I’ll come back for it...if I don’t bleed to death.”  I truly thought and felt in my heart that I wasn’t going to make it home and I was going to bleed out on the corner of Chestnut Hill Dr. and Conrow Rd. 

    Maybe this will give you an idea about how distraught I was, I didn’t even put my helmet on.  My mom was a stickler for the helmet law so of course like every red-blooded American child, I put it on when in visible sight of my house, but as soon as I couldn’t see my house that bad boy was a handlebar ornament.  I got to my house screamed for my Mom and she came down, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone act so calm in their lives.  She was so calm that we made two pit-stops before heading to the ER.  Finally on the second pit stop, the bleeding had stopped.  I got to the ER, earned myself seven stitches and McDonalds for dinner.  The only highlight out of this event was that I got out of practicing my piano for two days.

- If you are wondering, I did get my stuff from my friend’s house and we have no beef, we are actually Facebook friends.

Angel Leaving Sunnydale for Los Angeles

I really do not feel an explanation is needed here.  As Giles, Buffy’s watcher said in season one “A vampire, in love with a slayer, it’s rather poetic.”

Murdering the First Pet I Ever Had

   I’ve always wanted a dog and my Mom had always said no, because she would end up taking care of it, which I wholeheartedly disagreed with.

(sidenote: I finally did get a dog when I was in college and just want to give a quick shout out to my him and my Mom back in Jersey, love and miss you guys!)

    Anyway when I was seven I won a goldfish at some carnival or fair, I loved him and took care of him and fed him.  One day I noticed the bowl was getting dirty, so like a good mother I decided to clean it. I went to the bathroom, and filled the bathroom drinking cup with water and put Goldie in it (I know I have hygiene issues, I don’t wash my fruit either...get over it).  I cleaned the bowl with soap and water and filled it back with fresh, clean room temperature water, only the best for my Goldie.  I poured the cup of water down the sink drain, only to see Goldie slide right down with the dirty water.  I cried for about an hour until my Mom took me to the pet store and bought me an aquarium set (filter and all, mind you) and six brand new goldfish. 

- Unfortunately their lives were all lost within one to three months.  Looking back the reason may have been that I liked to scoop them out of the tank and put them in the palm of my hand and pet them and watch them wriggle for minutes at a time.  Hey, you live and learn.

“You’re Not On My Team”

    I finally jumped on the African-American bandwagon when my mom signed me up for basketball in the 4^th grade.  I started a little after the team had been assembled.  I showed up to my first practice ready to
rock the socks of the Cinnaminson PAL Basketball League.  My mom walked me into the gym and was chit-chatting with the Coach.  Excited to make some new friends and learn to play basketball, I immediately laced up my Adidas Sambas (that’s right, I said Sambas) and headed out on to the court.  There was a  girl, I had never personally met, but heard real cool things about who had the ball, I walked over to her and said playfully, yet politely “Pass me the ball!”  She turned and looked to me and said in the bitchiest way she could for a 4^th grader “You’re not on my team.”   To this day, I blame my deep insecurity issues on her.  It’s the reason that I don’t just walk up and talk to strangers, well that and my Mom told me not to.

- If you are wondering, eventually she had to pass the ball to me because I was, in actuality on her team.  We are friends on Facebook, just not in real life.

 The Heater Room

My freshman year I was in a heater room.  I’m not ready to divulge that story to the world, but just know it was a pivotal moment in my life.  Clearly considering it has already benn discussed briefly in earlier posts.

- I am NOT Facebook or  real life friends with the person involved in this story.

Stay tuned for Vol. 2 Traumatizing Events  That Shaped My Life, coming soon…