Monday evening I came home, changed my clothes, crawled into my bed and pulled the comforter over my head. Thirty minutes later J came home, crawled underneath the covers also and hugged me.
"When will it stop" I asked him. "When will I finally stop feeling bad?"
For years, whenever an acquaintance would ask about my childhood, I would deflect the question, change the subject or tell a story about the family dog. When pressed, I usually found some reason to excuse myself from the conversation.
I did not say that I was first treated for major depression at the age of ten.
I did not say that at the age of fifteen I wanted to die.
I never fit in as a child. Even grade school was a social ordeal. Because I was smart, earned decent grades and behaved myself, the teachers did not notice me very much, except to occasionally chastise me to "toughen up" when they saw me crying. They never investigated the cause of the tears. They just assumed I was a baby.
Grade school turned into middle school, a Catholic school, years of non-stop teasing, taunting, and deliberate exclusion.
My grades were still good. I was still not the type of student to cause trouble. I did all the things a happy student would do. I went through the motions. And every day I lost a little more of the will to continue.
In the fall of my sophomore year, on the way to school in the big yellow bus, I sat and listened as a student named Nathan, a year younger than myself, bullied another kid. Tired of watching the torture, I told him to stop it.
Nathan began screaming at me all the words I felt, but had never heard anyone say. That I needed to "shut the hell up." That "no one cared about what I had to say." That I was "nothing" and would always "be nothing." I was "worthless" and "stupid" and "an ugly bitch." When I began to cry, he taunted me for my tears.
The back of the bus fell silent except for my crying. No one told Nathan to stop. No one stood up for me, not even the kid I had been trying to protect. Some because they were too afraid, some because they were too shocked to speak. Not even the bus driver seemed to notice.
I walked off the bus in a daze. I did not know where to go. I wanted to run away, but I knew I would get suspended for cutting school. I was a good kid. I never caused trouble.
I fled to the bathroom near the gym, as far away as I could get from the rest of the student population without actually leaving school grounds. I kept crying. I'm not sure how long I was there. I'm not sure if anyone noticed I was missing from home room.
A junior found me at some point during the morning. When she asked me what was wrong, I told her I wanted to die. I kept repeating over and over again that I wanted to die. When she asked why, I said "I don't know" and started to cry again.
She found a teacher, as it turned out the only teacher I trusted completely. Mrs. K took me to the chapel. She made sure I was excused from my morning classes. She called both my parents. She called a psychiatrist. She and my parents sat and listened as I poured out the misery I had been carrying for over three years.
Late that morning I returned to my classes. The next afternoon I met the psychiatrist and was diagnosed with dysthymia and anxiety disorder. I spent most of the remaining school year in therapy. Slowly I got better. I never fit in with my class, but I learned how to be ok with that fact.
I don't remember if Nathan was disciplined for the incident on the bus. I don't think he was. He never apologized or showed any remorse. He continued to bully those he perceived as weaker than himself.
Why tell this now? Was it the novel I just finished, which suggests that we become the person we want to be by forgetting the person we were through the telling of our life stories?
Was it last night's re-run of Scrubs, in which Dr. Cox tells his sister "I don't like seeing you, because it reminds me of our childhood" and recently seeing all the supporting actors from that period of my life?
Or is just that I'm tired of relieving the pain and have reached the point where I am ready to let go?
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Rejoice!
Colby Armstrong scored his first two goals of the season in last night's victory over the New York Islanders.
And Marc-Andre Fleury turned 22 last night. The Penguins organization celebrated by giving away a Marc-Andre Fleury bobblehead doll.
And Marc-Andre Fleury turned 22 last night. The Penguins organization celebrated by giving away a Marc-Andre Fleury bobblehead doll.
Monday, November 27, 2006
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Enough Already
J and I attended last night's Penguins/Rangers game. The Penguins lost in overtime due to a failure to capitalize on any of the numerous power play opportunities during the second and third period. There was also a serious defensive breakdown as the Ranger who scored the winning goal, Martin Straka (aka “Jenn's other husband”), spent the entire game camped out at the goal on Marc Andre Fleury's left side and no one noticed except some of the fans.
But this is not about the game as much as it is about an incredibly stupid tradition that needs to come to an end in Mellon Arena. That is the tradition of booing Jaromir Jager every time he touches the puck.
All true. He did say those things. Faced with the first real slump of his career and overwhelming personal problems, he lashed at out at the team, the fans and the organization. At no point did he take any responsibility for his contribution to the team's decline.
Memories are very short in Pittsburgh. Fans forget that there were some that took outrageous advantage of Jagr over the years, due to his poor English and lack of understanding of American culture. That he was booed regularly on the ice by Penguins fans before being traded to the Capitals in 2001. That staying in Pittsburgh meant forever playing under the shadow of Mario Lemieux.
Fans also forget that the Penguins organization was in such deep financial trouble in 2001 that trading him was inevitable.
So now, every time Jagr comes to Pittsburgh to play, the fans boo him. Last night they also booed the video tribute put together by the organization to commemorate the scoring of his 600th goal.
It is embarrassing, stupid and unsportsmanlike to continue to boo him. Jagr is an incredibly talented player who is an absolute pleasure to watch on the ice. Since he left Pittsburgh he appears to have recovered the joy of the eighteen year old kid in his play. It is as much fun to watch him handle the puck and score a goal as it is to watch Staal or Malkin.
Jagr grew up. When will the fans?
But this is not about the game as much as it is about an incredibly stupid tradition that needs to come to an end in Mellon Arena. That is the tradition of booing Jaromir Jager every time he touches the puck.
- The Jaromir Jagr who gave Penguins fans two Stanley Cups in the early 1990's.
- The Jaromir Jagr who spent 11 years playing for the Penguins.
- The Jaromir Jagr who has seen playoff action in 13 of his 16 years as a professional ice hockey player. Eleven of those years came as a Penguin. Yes, for 11 straight years he helped the Penguins to make it into the post season playoffs.
- The Jaromir Jagr who just scored his 600th career goal.
All true. He did say those things. Faced with the first real slump of his career and overwhelming personal problems, he lashed at out at the team, the fans and the organization. At no point did he take any responsibility for his contribution to the team's decline.
Memories are very short in Pittsburgh. Fans forget that there were some that took outrageous advantage of Jagr over the years, due to his poor English and lack of understanding of American culture. That he was booed regularly on the ice by Penguins fans before being traded to the Capitals in 2001. That staying in Pittsburgh meant forever playing under the shadow of Mario Lemieux.
Fans also forget that the Penguins organization was in such deep financial trouble in 2001 that trading him was inevitable.
So now, every time Jagr comes to Pittsburgh to play, the fans boo him. Last night they also booed the video tribute put together by the organization to commemorate the scoring of his 600th goal.
It is embarrassing, stupid and unsportsmanlike to continue to boo him. Jagr is an incredibly talented player who is an absolute pleasure to watch on the ice. Since he left Pittsburgh he appears to have recovered the joy of the eighteen year old kid in his play. It is as much fun to watch him handle the puck and score a goal as it is to watch Staal or Malkin.
Jagr grew up. When will the fans?
Sunday, November 19, 2006
What...
would possess a parent to take six pre-pubescent boys between the ages of eight and thirteen to see Running with Scissors?
AMC Loews Waterfront did screw up by posting the incorrect rating for the movie, but even if it had been a PG-13 film, allowing an eight year old to see it?
It became apparent, early on, that this particular group of kids were not mature enough to watch this film. They talked loudly all through the previews. They provoked open hilarity amongst the adult movie goers when one of the kids pronounced Venus as "Venice". They continued to talk through the opening scenes, provoking one patron to tell them to shut up. They giggled during the first three uses of the word "fuck" in the dialogue of the movie.
It was around this point that the father wised up and began his efforts to extract the kids from the theater. Which provoked a great deal of conversation between the oldest child and the father, as the kids were having a grand time ruining the movie for the rest of us.
But leave they did, shortly before the first use of a word referencing a part of the female anatomy, the drugs and a (tasteful and hysterically funny) depiction of Augusten's first homosexual experience.
AMC Loews Waterfront did screw up by posting the incorrect rating for the movie, but even if it had been a PG-13 film, allowing an eight year old to see it?
It became apparent, early on, that this particular group of kids were not mature enough to watch this film. They talked loudly all through the previews. They provoked open hilarity amongst the adult movie goers when one of the kids pronounced Venus as "Venice". They continued to talk through the opening scenes, provoking one patron to tell them to shut up. They giggled during the first three uses of the word "fuck" in the dialogue of the movie.
It was around this point that the father wised up and began his efforts to extract the kids from the theater. Which provoked a great deal of conversation between the oldest child and the father, as the kids were having a grand time ruining the movie for the rest of us.
But leave they did, shortly before the first use of a word referencing a part of the female anatomy, the drugs and a (tasteful and hysterically funny) depiction of Augusten's first homosexual experience.
Friday, November 17, 2006
True Horrors of Manhood
In which I somehow manage to link:
I was not planning to comment on the publication of O.J. Simpson's book If I Did It or the two-part interview airing on Fox later this month. But last night I heard something spectacularly offensive on the radio and I can not let it pass.
105.9 "the X" has a night time DJ by the name of "Grimm" who enjoys throwing verbal bombs out at the listening audience. He prides himself being what he terms as "politically incorrect" under the guise that he can say any atrocious thing he wants. He is correct. He is entitled to say whatever he wants as long as it does not attract the attention of the FCC.
Grimm keeps a low profile. No profile, no photographs, nothing to give away his real identity on the station's website. I'm sure that I could find some information if I took the time to look, but after thinking about it I realized that he is not worth the energy.
Last night "Grimm" was discussing the furor over the book/interview and making general fun of that segment of the population who found the idea of an acquitted murderer making a profit off of the death of the two people he slaughtered reprehensible. I was mostly tuning him out when I heard him say "the bitch and her boyfriend deserved what they got".
I should not have been surprised by this. I was, but I should not have been. There seems to have been an increase in this type of rhetoric over the past several years against women in general. You know, because we have to nerve to walk away from relationships that are not working for whatever reason (in the case of Nicole Brown Simpson, abuse) and move on with our lives and yes, even enjoy sex with men we are not married to.
After all, we are living in a world where the Bush administration thinks appointing Dr. Erik Keroack to the post of deputy assistant secretary of population affairs is a good idea.
Dr. Keroack is an anti-contraception, vocal advocate of abstinence education who believes that men and women (but mostly women, let's be honest here) with multiple sexual partners have more difficulty maintaining a permanent emotional connection because they "use up" their stores of oxytocin.
Of course! The difficulties in maintaining an intimate, long-term relationship are not caused by the internal forces of two personalities trying to live with each other on a day-to-day basis OR the external forces of friends, family, work, boredom...
It is because I had sex with too many men! If only I had known that the key to having an easier relationship was to remain a virgin until I was married!
I feel so secure these days with all these highly intelligent men passing commentary on how I and other American women conduct our personal affairs. Who better to dissect my actions than a man who beat, then killed his wife for leaving him*, a DJ who labels the murdered wife a "bitch" for leaving her husband and dating other men, and a doctor who would blame any relationship problems I experience on my "promiscuity" as a single woman?
* I am well aware that Simpson was acquitted of all charges. I still think he did it. Tony Norman has a great column in the Pittsburgh-Post Gazette discussing Simpson's motives in confessing now. He also thinks Simpson did it.
- O.J. Simpson,
- a 105.9 DJ who goes by the moniker of "Grimm", and
- Dr. Erik Keroack
I was not planning to comment on the publication of O.J. Simpson's book If I Did It or the two-part interview airing on Fox later this month. But last night I heard something spectacularly offensive on the radio and I can not let it pass.
105.9 "the X" has a night time DJ by the name of "Grimm" who enjoys throwing verbal bombs out at the listening audience. He prides himself being what he terms as "politically incorrect" under the guise that he can say any atrocious thing he wants. He is correct. He is entitled to say whatever he wants as long as it does not attract the attention of the FCC.
Grimm keeps a low profile. No profile, no photographs, nothing to give away his real identity on the station's website. I'm sure that I could find some information if I took the time to look, but after thinking about it I realized that he is not worth the energy.
Last night "Grimm" was discussing the furor over the book/interview and making general fun of that segment of the population who found the idea of an acquitted murderer making a profit off of the death of the two people he slaughtered reprehensible. I was mostly tuning him out when I heard him say "the bitch and her boyfriend deserved what they got".
I should not have been surprised by this. I was, but I should not have been. There seems to have been an increase in this type of rhetoric over the past several years against women in general. You know, because we have to nerve to walk away from relationships that are not working for whatever reason (in the case of Nicole Brown Simpson, abuse) and move on with our lives and yes, even enjoy sex with men we are not married to.
After all, we are living in a world where the Bush administration thinks appointing Dr. Erik Keroack to the post of deputy assistant secretary of population affairs is a good idea.
Dr. Keroack is an anti-contraception, vocal advocate of abstinence education who believes that men and women (but mostly women, let's be honest here) with multiple sexual partners have more difficulty maintaining a permanent emotional connection because they "use up" their stores of oxytocin.
Of course! The difficulties in maintaining an intimate, long-term relationship are not caused by the internal forces of two personalities trying to live with each other on a day-to-day basis OR the external forces of friends, family, work, boredom...
It is because I had sex with too many men! If only I had known that the key to having an easier relationship was to remain a virgin until I was married!
I feel so secure these days with all these highly intelligent men passing commentary on how I and other American women conduct our personal affairs. Who better to dissect my actions than a man who beat, then killed his wife for leaving him*, a DJ who labels the murdered wife a "bitch" for leaving her husband and dating other men, and a doctor who would blame any relationship problems I experience on my "promiscuity" as a single woman?
* I am well aware that Simpson was acquitted of all charges. I still think he did it. Tony Norman has a great column in the Pittsburgh-Post Gazette discussing Simpson's motives in confessing now. He also thinks Simpson did it.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Holiday Hell - A Rant
It is the most wonderful time of the year, the seven weeks between Thanksgiving and New Year's in which all the plans and negotiations made months in advance about how to handle our respective families gets thrown out the window.
Every year I hate this holiday season a little bit more. I hate the debates over where to spend Thanksgiving and Christmas. I hate the last minute, last ditch attempts by family members to guilt us into spending the day with “us” instead of “them”. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.
Right now we are still planning on boycotting Christmas with either family. We hope to avoid a repeat of last year's Wigilia, which ended with one of J's brothers yelling at me to “control [my] husband”.
It has started early this year. After a month of stating repeatedly to J's family that we would be spending Thanksgiving at my parents, enjoying the increasingly novel experience of seeing both of my siblings at the same time, we were informed that bypassing his family would mean missing my father-in-law's birthday. Which falls on Thanksgiving day.
Since missing his birthday is unacceptable, we are splitting the holiday. The morning at the in-laws, the evening at my parents. The afternoon driving the 2.5 hours between the two houses. Making sure we make it to my parents by 4:30, as they are having twelve for dinner and some people have to make a long drive home afterwards.
Still seven more weeks until New Year's Eve.
One weekend of the seven completely booked already with family activities.
Next year, I am not going anywhere. I don't care any more whose feelings are hurt by it. I'm tired of the negotiations. I'm tired of feeling guilty. I'm tired of begging friends/neighbors/co-workers to feed our pets while we are gone. I want to celebrate the holidays in my home. I want to cook Christmas dinner in my kitchen. I want to sleep in my own bed.
Every year I hate this holiday season a little bit more. I hate the debates over where to spend Thanksgiving and Christmas. I hate the last minute, last ditch attempts by family members to guilt us into spending the day with “us” instead of “them”. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.
Right now we are still planning on boycotting Christmas with either family. We hope to avoid a repeat of last year's Wigilia, which ended with one of J's brothers yelling at me to “control [my] husband”.
It has started early this year. After a month of stating repeatedly to J's family that we would be spending Thanksgiving at my parents, enjoying the increasingly novel experience of seeing both of my siblings at the same time, we were informed that bypassing his family would mean missing my father-in-law's birthday. Which falls on Thanksgiving day.
Since missing his birthday is unacceptable, we are splitting the holiday. The morning at the in-laws, the evening at my parents. The afternoon driving the 2.5 hours between the two houses. Making sure we make it to my parents by 4:30, as they are having twelve for dinner and some people have to make a long drive home afterwards.
Still seven more weeks until New Year's Eve.
One weekend of the seven completely booked already with family activities.
Next year, I am not going anywhere. I don't care any more whose feelings are hurt by it. I'm tired of the negotiations. I'm tired of feeling guilty. I'm tired of begging friends/neighbors/co-workers to feed our pets while we are gone. I want to celebrate the holidays in my home. I want to cook Christmas dinner in my kitchen. I want to sleep in my own bed.
Monday, November 13, 2006
Did I Mention Lately How Much the FAA Hates Me?
Subtitle: Jenn's First Business Trip Goes Tragically Awry
Karma is a bastard. At some point in the past (as a child? In a previous life?) I did something truly awful, something so terrible, that this year has become the year that I cannot catch a flight on time to save my life.
The first sign, last Tuesday, that things were not going to go well was a radio transmission from JFK than an incoming plane was having an issue with the hydraulic systems.
First the flight was delayed, then canceled, because the part the plane needed was in New York City. All remaining passengers moved to the 3:30 flight to JFK and from there to Boston, arriving at 7:10 pm.
Flight to JFK delayed at the gate due to traffic at JFK. The plane was not cleared for takeoff until 4:30. We land in JFK and are instructed to stay on the plane to facilitate a quick turnover.
And we sit. And sit. And sit. First at the gate, then on the tarmac. During this time I am frantically text messaging my friend A, who was supposed to meet me at the airport at 4:00 pm, so we could have dinner together before picking his wife up from her class.
Instead A picked up his wife, picked my co-worker and myself up from Logan at 9:30 that evening, swung by the student union at MIT so we could grab a burrito for dinner and dropped us at the hotel.
Where I discovered that my room was directly across from the elevator, the king size bed was actually two double beds, my bathroom did not have tub, and the cable did not have Comedy Central.
No Midterm Midtacular. The only reason why my co-worker did not hear my screams of agony was because he had to go back downstairs to get his room key replaced.
A week later and I am still angry. Pissed that at the airline's stupid hub system, which strands passengers in smaller cities when something goes wrong. I don't want a $50.00 credit towards my next flight. I want the five hours I lost back.
The business end of the trip went smoothly, two days of training classes, with enough downtime to sleep in, swim in the hotel's saltwater pool and have dinner with A and K.
Karma is a bastard. At some point in the past (as a child? In a previous life?) I did something truly awful, something so terrible, that this year has become the year that I cannot catch a flight on time to save my life.
The first sign, last Tuesday, that things were not going to go well was a radio transmission from JFK than an incoming plane was having an issue with the hydraulic systems.
First the flight was delayed, then canceled, because the part the plane needed was in New York City. All remaining passengers moved to the 3:30 flight to JFK and from there to Boston, arriving at 7:10 pm.
Flight to JFK delayed at the gate due to traffic at JFK. The plane was not cleared for takeoff until 4:30. We land in JFK and are instructed to stay on the plane to facilitate a quick turnover.
And we sit. And sit. And sit. First at the gate, then on the tarmac. During this time I am frantically text messaging my friend A, who was supposed to meet me at the airport at 4:00 pm, so we could have dinner together before picking his wife up from her class.
Instead A picked up his wife, picked my co-worker and myself up from Logan at 9:30 that evening, swung by the student union at MIT so we could grab a burrito for dinner and dropped us at the hotel.
Where I discovered that my room was directly across from the elevator, the king size bed was actually two double beds, my bathroom did not have tub, and the cable did not have Comedy Central.
No Midterm Midtacular. The only reason why my co-worker did not hear my screams of agony was because he had to go back downstairs to get his room key replaced.
A week later and I am still angry. Pissed that at the airline's stupid hub system, which strands passengers in smaller cities when something goes wrong. I don't want a $50.00 credit towards my next flight. I want the five hours I lost back.
The business end of the trip went smoothly, two days of training classes, with enough downtime to sleep in, swim in the hotel's saltwater pool and have dinner with A and K.
Saturday, November 11, 2006
And the Young Shall Inherit the Ice
Seen at a recent Penguins game:
87 - Sidney Crosby
71 - Evgeni Malkin
20 - Colby Armstrong
11 - Jordan Staal
29 - Marc-Andre Fleury
19 - Ryan Whitney
44 - Brooks Orpik
7 - Michel Ouellet
12 - Ryan Malone
4 - Noah Welch
58 - Kris Letang (sent back to his Junior team, Val D'Or).
The youngest? Age 18 - Jordan Staal.
The oldest? Age 27 - Ryan Malone.
87 - Sidney Crosby
71 - Evgeni Malkin
20 - Colby Armstrong
11 - Jordan Staal
29 - Marc-Andre Fleury
19 - Ryan Whitney
44 - Brooks Orpik
7 - Michel Ouellet
12 - Ryan Malone
4 - Noah Welch
58 - Kris Letang (sent back to his Junior team, Val D'Or).
The youngest? Age 18 - Jordan Staal.
The oldest? Age 27 - Ryan Malone.
Thanks J
I have not been easy to live with this year, and the past several months have been especially difficult, as the immense amount of grief I have been carrying has overwhelmed me.
J (because I know you will read this), you have hung in there when a sane man would have shown me the door.
Thanks for taking such good care of me. I promise next time we go to Paris together I will not complain when you plan our routes through the city around all the Starbucks. I'll even pay for your BIG cups of coffee.
Love you.
J (because I know you will read this), you have hung in there when a sane man would have shown me the door.
Thanks for taking such good care of me. I promise next time we go to Paris together I will not complain when you plan our routes through the city around all the Starbucks. I'll even pay for your BIG cups of coffee.
Love you.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Pablo Neruda...
Once wrote "Es tan corto el amor y tan largo el olvido".
"Love is so short, forgetting is so long".
I wish I could write like that.
"Love is so short, forgetting is so long".
I wish I could write like that.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
If you Vote for Democrats the Terrorists will Blow Up Heinz Field
Making the rounds of the local news this morning was the report that two CMU students of "middle eastern descent" attempted to scale Gate 5 of Heinz Field and gain access to the playing surface at 2:00 AM. The students, ages 20 and 21, were filming a music video and thought that sneaking onto the field to film the final scene was a good idea.
Naturally, the local news reporters thought it was a good idea to stir up the public two days before national elections by identifying the nationalities of the suspects and give a detailed explanation of the security measures the staff at Heniz Field and the police in Pittsburgh were taking to ensure that the game would be incident free. Never mind the fact if it had been two drunk white men from Dormont, race/cultural background would have been immaterial.
The most galling part of this story is that the reporters got the students' nationality WRONG. The young men in question are United States citizens of Indian descent, from California and New York respectively, something that could have been easily ascertained if the reporters had taken five minutes to hunt down a photograph or actually READ the students' names.
References to the students' nationality have been scrubbed from news reports, except from the Pittsburgh Post Gazette, the only source to correctly identify the two young men.
Pittsburgh Post Gazette
KDKA
WTAE
Naturally, the local news reporters thought it was a good idea to stir up the public two days before national elections by identifying the nationalities of the suspects and give a detailed explanation of the security measures the staff at Heniz Field and the police in Pittsburgh were taking to ensure that the game would be incident free. Never mind the fact if it had been two drunk white men from Dormont, race/cultural background would have been immaterial.
The most galling part of this story is that the reporters got the students' nationality WRONG. The young men in question are United States citizens of Indian descent, from California and New York respectively, something that could have been easily ascertained if the reporters had taken five minutes to hunt down a photograph or actually READ the students' names.
References to the students' nationality have been scrubbed from news reports, except from the Pittsburgh Post Gazette, the only source to correctly identify the two young men.
Pittsburgh Post Gazette
KDKA
WTAE
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
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