Why Can’t I at Least be Normal? Part 0.5

Ever felt like that?

How Accurate are Memories?

Here is one string of memories. Have you ever felt different? Broken? Not good enough? This was one period of time that I felt that way. If you’ve never found yourself feeling like this, more power to you. I’d say a majority of my life I have felt like the weirdo, underdog or last picked. It’s something I have had to face off against constantly. I still keep jumping. One of these days I hope to fly. When I do, in my nicest tone, I will say I told you so.

Clown Face the Pirate

I had a lazy eye when I was a child. To all the self practicing doctors in the world, that meant I was the dreaded crossed eyed girl. That is all. I had no soul. I had no brain. I was just weird. I was faulty. I was broken. Did you find yourself chuckling? I hope you never wake up with an obvious difference or shortcoming, because trust me, others will let you know about it.

Arg Matey!

You know what is so precious about little girls? They are just so cute and say the darnedest things! Not me. I was a flippin pirate. I had a perfectly awkward grandma-do and a flipping eye patch.

“Don’t talk to that one son, she will bite you and make you walk the plank!”

Surgery

I was very young. I was in a paper dress. I was just slightly embarrassed. It was foggy. I woke up. The nurse got in my face. I thought she smelled funny. I felt like I was about to lose some chunks. I don’t remember severe pain. Not pain like when people told me I was different or broken. She offered me a sprite. They said I had to be taken by wheelchair out. I went to my grandmother’s house. I was tired. They told me not to look in the mirror. I knew I had to go into the bedroom and do it. I told them I needed to sleep, and I did. That is, as soon as I walked by her vanity I peeped at myself. There were weird stitches on my eye. Gross. I still felt nauseous and tired. I slept.

It didn’t fix my lazy eye. I evolved a step up to big, blue, space glasses. They were not pretty. In my youthful mind, the power of choice, and the bright turquoise blue were awesome. The problem with my glasses was one side was obviously as thick as a glass sliding door, while the other was as thin as possible.  Meaning I looked very asymmetrical, with an absurdly large eye on one side and a regular eye on the other. How many little girls aspire to look like a popular character Sloth, from a famous movie in the 80’s? Totally unacceptable! This was my Achilles heel. Couldn’t my face just be quiet? It had to constantly beckon others over to me, to behold and analyze my weirdness. I was a mutant.  One eye was nearsighted, the other farsighted. Not to mention, without being able to focus through the glasses, my eye immediately wanted to turn back in and romance my nose.

Coke Bottle Face

I was done with her. I figured if I went without my glasses I might look slightly normal. I could try to focus. I would focus hard. I would look at the floor if need be. I didn’t want to wear those cursed things.  Now this was a bad Idea. This opened the gates for a load of insults.

This was where communication with anyone was a nightmare. Oh my good god in third heaven, mean spirited people picked up on this. See, this is the point where I completely lost my identity as a child, while trying to find myself. That is what I felt like. I had dealt with several moves, schools, and culture shocks. I didn’t grow into all of my adult ape skin yet. I was turmoil personified. That is all.

Nightmare Day

This made every single school photo day absolutely deplorable. I had so much fear that it did make me sick to my stomach. There may be a school photo or two out there that scream how weird I was. Several times I had to do re-takes. I hated pictures of myself passionately.

Cruelty or Absentmindedness

Here is how people shut me down. There were times where I would try to share my heart. Times that I wanted to be involved. Times that I experienced valid human emotion like all else involved, and went to express it. Do you want to know why that never mattered? Because, when I spoke to others my face got in the way. My eyes. That was the point. The words didn’t matter.

 All they had to do was look at me, cross their eyes and hold their face in that position. Call me cross-eyeded (seriously). Laugh. It shut me down. I had nothing more to say. Scream or cry maybe. Analyze the floor intently. I knew they didn’t hear me anyway. I remember getting “sick” a lot in the morning before I had to go to school.

My siblings could play that card too if we fought. I extracted my revenge with various methods. I wasn’t always an angel myself. Sometimes family members would be silly and make faces like that at me. I am pretty sure I thought of shooting angry-eye death-lasers, if I could have only manned the cannons. I think sometimes they were being 100% harmless. Unfortunately for me, at the time it cut right to the heart. I thought they could be more consciences. If it was easy though, I wouldn’t be the Queen of Foot Suck. They said sorry after I said thanks, or something or other. That didn’t make me hate myself any less at the time. Hate myself for being such a freak.

I eventually got contact lenses and they worked well for me. It was easier to focus my eye, when I could see what I was looking at.

Every person’s puzzle has thousands of pieces.

Advertisements

4 responses to “Why Can’t I at Least be Normal? Part 0.5

  1. Children can be the cruelest when we are most susceptible (as children). I think all of us “not so cool” kids had experiences like this, though most not as hurtful. I must ask if it was therapeutic to put this all on “paper” for the world to see? I find that it is a wonderful feeling to finally just lay it all out there. For me, it tends to make me not dwell on it (even subconsciously) as I might if I held it all in.

    • Maybe? I might be embarrassed in a day too. I have said some things safely, but want to go deeper now. I think I have felt boxed up, while trying to interact with some folks. Whether it was here in blog land or real life. Maybe if I share my journey someone else would relate? Maybe others that draw conclusions at face value and have memorized the “whole book” will realize they were looking at the wrong book? Lol, and I think it took me 10 minutes to write this and hope it made sense.

      • Yes, it makes perfect sense. At least one person in the world has shared practically the same journey as any of us and the interwebs is most likely the only place that they will meet. As far as the “whole book” thing goes, the other way to look at that is that anyone who gets to actually read the whole book should totally understand the cover (which is really the way we should all look at everyone else).

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s