You don’t know me… yet.

I thought for my first ever blog post the best thing to do would be to give you a little back ground. I am currently 28 and a half (to be obnoxiously exact)and I am having a really hard time accepting that my twenties are nearly over. I’m trying to get over it but it’s easier said than done. I know you are thinking (boo-hoo, you’re fucking 28, get over yourself. Trust me, I agree with you. I hate myself for feeling this way.) I am going to graduate with my Bachelor’s Degree in Psychology in 2 months and although I have learned a lot I am afraid that I haven’t learned enough to be successful. I have dreams and ambitions that seem logical to me but when I tell other people about them they look at me like I just told them that I am going to jump off the Empire State Building to see if I can fly. I’ve dealt with this my entire life, now that I’m nearing the end of my good old 20’s I say to those people: take your judgey, nonsupportive face and go look in the mirror because I’m not buying a ticket to your you-can’t-do-it show and maybe it’s time you take a good look at yourself and your life and stop raining on my mother fucking parade.(I believe in swearing, it makes you feel better, and then you move on).

I will get to telling you all about my dreams and ambitions and what I think about what everything means in life and love and everything in between – that’s my thing. I need to know what everything means. What do people mean when they look at you in a certain way, what did they mean by their tone, or what they said or didn’t say.

Today, we are just going to talk about my dream to write and why it’s taken me so long to start writing.

I’m going to use this blog to build my writing skills and to bitch and complain and brag and you should too – I want to hear all about other people just like me, people nothing like me and everything in between. I dream of someday writing a novel or two, or three. Hopefully, not a trilogy of any sort. But who am I to say what the future holds? If there is one thing I have learned in my 28 and a half years it is to not limit myself. We, as human beings, are constantly told what to do, what to like, where to go, what to wear, how to talk by other human beings like parents, teachers, friends, and the big bad media. There are times that you manage to resist it but it is so damn hard sometimes that all of sudden you just want to run out to your nearest Macy’s and slam down $300.00 on a pair of Uggs like everybody else and you don’t even know what it is about them that makes them so desirable (does Macy’s even carry Uggs? Nevertheless, you get what I’m throwing down). We all do it. Admit it – you do it, too. Some of us judge it; the conforming to popular culture, and some of us accept it and some of us deny it but we ALL do it. My mom is a judger and I am an accepter. It has caused friction. We have a tumultuous relationship in general.

About a year ago and I finally came out and told my mom that I wanted to write a book, based on my life. She gave me a quick look, scrunched up her nose the way she always does when she disapproves, and said “Oh, God. I can only imagine what you are going to say about me.” She thinks that I blame all of my failures and everything that has been bad in my life on her. I don’t. She is, however, partially to blame for some things and I don’t know if I will be able to let go of that pain and blame until I say everything I haven’t said. I think that she has assumes a lot of things about me and my failures in life. She has never asked me for my side of the story, in fact, when and if one of my unfortunate tales of failure is brought up it sends her into an immediate rage. It is a really hard pill to swallow when the people who are supposed to love you most and unconditionally, in this world are the people who don’t believe in you even a pea-sized bit. It’s not an unconditional love that I feel, it’s an obligated love.

The failure that I am referring to happened literally 10 years ago. I went to college, I wasn’t ready, I had undiagnosed Attention Deficit Disorder, and my parents never planned on me going to college. It was never even and option for me. My friends were worried about me, about leaving me behind, given the fact that I was depressed and had this highly volatile relationship with my mother at the time. They suggested that I go to a school about 45 minutes north of where we lived. I got in and went, against my parents wishes. They wanted me to go to cosmetology school(there will be more on this later). As I said, I wasn’t ready. I got bad grades but that was nothing new. I passed some classes, made friends, got a boyfriend and then a close friend of mine killed himself. I was home the day he killed himself. It would have taken me 15 minutes to get to him if he called. I was devastated. I let the pain of losing him and the guilt of not staying in touch as much as I should have take over me and I failed out of the last semester of school. I told my parents about my friend, they reacted… well, they didn’t even have a reaction. Keep in mind I struggled with depression through my teenage years as well, which is why myself and this person became so close. You would think it would have been a wake up call for them. It wasn’t. I moved home and did a bunch more stupid shit between the ages of 19 and 22 or so.

So, to this day I am the Bartlett family fuck up. And I think I’m about to add one more reason to the long list of fuck ups and failures that my family keeps (mentally). This time when everyone tries to tell me what I should do and how I should feel I’m going to tell them that I wasn’t asking for their opinion. I need to follow my brain, heart, and gut for once in my life and stop trying so hard to get certain people’s approval. I am never going to be perfect but I have certainly grown and improved and I don’t want to be perfect.

-M.

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One thought on “You don’t know me… yet.

  1. I can tell you, as a professional writer (a reporter to be exact) that you have it in you to write a book. You have all the necessary skills displayed in just this one post. Many less talented people publish books regularly and it’s mostly because they believed they could and just went ahead and did it.

    I am 27 and I have a blog I just started that is basically me ranting about being in your late twenties and how many unexpected things come up. If you ever feel like checking it out – twistedtwenties@wordpress.com. Keep up with the writing – you’ve got a knack for it.

    Like

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