To Be or Not To Be Me

Growing up I hated the way I looked. Whether it was the way my skin looked, the way my hair looked, even the way my body looked; I never felt pretty. I wanted to have the beautiful milky smooth white skin, and the long, blonde hair that would blow in the wind, I wanted the big blue eyes and long eyelashes fell in love with. I wanted to have the beauty that people longed for. But I never did; I never felt good about myself; I never felt like I belonged.

It all happened in 6th grade; “you should straighten your hair”, that was what my best friend said to me on Sunday morning. Her name was Victoria, she was a pretty, skinny, white girl, who had silky smooth, long brown hair and beautiful green eyes with long eyelashes; to me, she was the pinnacle of beauty; to me, anyone who looked like her was the pinnacle of beauty. I had never noticed the differences between her hair and mine until then, I mean why did it matter? “My, mom can straighten your hair”, I was so uncomfortable, I had no idea how to respond; was my hair not pretty? I thought it was, that Sunday morning I had my hair in two cute pigtails, they were slick with hair gel, my curls were so defined, and I had loved them so much. However, the rest of the day I felt so insecure, I wanted to hide my face. When church was over, I remember going home and telling my mom all about the “conversation” I had with Victoria, she told me that the next time she said something to me about my hair “don’t listen to her, no one can determine your worth or how beautiful you are.” To be honest, I think it hurt my mom more than it hurt me, I couldn’t imagine hearing my child talk about how they don’t like themselves.

After that day I started caring a lot more about the way people would perceive me, every day that I would go to church I would practically be on my knees begging my mom to straighten my hair, “mom, just for today, please!” every time I thought she would she wouldn’t and I grew more and more frustrated and my mom grew more and more tired, until one day she had had enough and decided to give me what I want. My hair was so long “I look so pretty” I stood in awe, in the bathroom mirror, “I love it so much, mom!” I had the biggest smile on my face. She was smiling too but hers looked different, she looked worried. When I went to church it was like I had this newfound confidence, I walked like I owned the place, “I love your hair Wynter, It’s so pretty!” they loved it, all my friends loved my hair! I felt I was on top of the world! Then Monday rolls around and I have to go to school, while I was there I heard a conversation between two boys:

“Heather is really dark, she’d be a lot prettier if she was a little lighter.”

“That’s kinda mean, but I guess your right”.

What’s wrong with dark skin I thought to myself, does my skin make me ugly. I tried to brush off what I had heard but I couldn’t, it ate me up inside. So I went from one thing to the next, and now my skin was the problem I had to fix, but how? How am I supposed to change the color of my skin; I can’t.

It took me a while to embrace my differences, even now it can be a struggle for me, just like it is for many boys and girls. I had to stop being ashamed of the things that made me different and I needed to start loving myself for who I was. Though the world may tell me that I’m not good enough, or I don’t fit the beauty standards. Who cares? I had to start reminding myself I was made to stand out, my differences are what make me special, they’re what make me unique, they’re who I am. I am the only one who can determine my beauty and worth.

A Disrupted Childhood Incident

Through a significant portion of my childhood, I can recall having suffered from severe anxiety. There were countless occasions that I dreadfully recollect, yet this one particular recollection always prevails. It was a Monday, I was in fourth-grade elementary school, and we were traveling three and a half hours for a three-day trip to the gold country. While it seemed all of my fellow classmates were anticipating the day, I felt as if I was the only one who was dreading it. Nothing had terrified me more than being separated from my home and parents and being hauled off to an unfamiliar location with a group of children and teachers that I had found, in a way, intolerable. It was at the moment after I was seated on the bus where the realization had struck me almost instantly. Despite having been familiar with those around me for many years, I had no friends, no one to turn to, and I felt completely alone. My only company had been my familiar, pervading intrusive thoughts. The motion of the school bus made me realize there was no way out; I had to embrace my present predicament and try to subside.

I found myself peering around at the rows of my classmates in front and around me. It appeared that they were all laughing and smiling, and they appeared to be high-spirited. I almost didn't think it was fair. I didn't understand why I wasn't more like them, that I couldn't just simply mirror their emotions. Maybe they once felt what I felt, or perhaps they did, but they had implemented strategies to help them cope. Fear had paralyzed me, and despite telling myself that I was safe and that everything was going to be fine, I was still convinced that something was wrong and that something dreadful was going to happen. In an attempt to dissociate myself from the reality of the situation, I tried to focus my attention on the window. My gaze was drawn to the electrical towers' guard wires. I was seeking for some array of images in the clouds. I didn't want to draw attention to myself, so I pretended that nothing was wrong. I felt a rising temperature in the pit of my stomach from trying to suppress my urge to cry. I felt a stinging sensation on my fingers; they were streaked with blood. I had inadvertently clawed a layer of skin from my fingers. However, this was not unusual for me while I was aware I’d had dermatillomania, a recurring aspect of my life. I recall questioning myself as to why I had to be in agony when I should be more content.

The noise of the cheering kids caused a ringing in my ears while It was loud and unpleasant. I wondered if any other kids in the bus around me would ever understand how I felt at this moment or if they had ever come close to experiencing anything similar. I've had the impression that I was the only one. I almost recall a feeling of helplessness. At the time, I didn’t understand why I was experiencing these feelings. While I was familiar with the feeling, I didn’t know what it was called or a rational explanation for why it occurred. I knew there had to be a way to turn off these emotions, but it seemed too far out of reach. While I was only nine at the time, I had previously endured difficult moments similar to this, yet I felt nothing could prepare me for each new occurrence. Yet this time was different in that I didn’t let these compulsive emotions triumph, at least this time. I could’ve left if I truly wished, yet I still chose to stay and bear, and I ultimately “survived” the three days. While they were fatiguing, I believe this entire experience was the first time in my life in which I refused to let my anxiety win and where my fortitude first shined through. In a way, I believe, it fundamentally paved a way for my future self.

A Memoir of an Epileptic Childhood

I remember to begin a jolly Christmas , an early cloudy morning in Santa Rosa California. I was beginning to walk down the stairs and open gifts with my family. All kinds of emotions were going through my mind and body, the feeling of excitement and the feeling of pain. I was sick for weeks and was in horrible pain ever since. Although I was sick I wanted to put a smile on my face since Christmas is a happy and jolly day. After opening a few gifts my mind went totally blank, I was totally out of it. I had a seizure.... my very first seizure. I tried to open my eyes but everything was black I couldn’t see. I awakened for a split second while in the ambulance all I was able to see was the man sitting down next to me. And the voice of my mom in terrier while reminding me that I’m going to be okay. I became conscious when I was in a room with my mom. They tested me for every flu and all sicknesses. I was transferred to the ICU and was severely contagious with Influenza B. With all luck I didn’t pass on my sickness to anyone in my family, which I’m glad for. I had a 3 month old sister and an 84 year old grandma at home that would’ve been affected badly if they had what I had. I was out of it and kept in the ICU for 3 days missing spending Christmas morning with my family. I felt like I ruined everything for my baby sister's first Christmas and I wasn’t able to experience it with her.

As we came back from Christmas break it was time for me to return to school. A bright sunny morning returning to Roseland Accelerated Middle School. I was still young 12 years old and of course wanting to be like everyone else. But all I thought about was how I was now a Juvenile Epileptic and I didn’t feel like I fit in anymore. I began to distance myself from others. I knew that if I ever had a seizure at school people would start to make fun of me for it. I pushed myself away from people because in that moment I would’ve rather been alone than make friends then finding out that I have Epilepsy and leaving me. But I met a sweet young girl just like me, she was such a happy person and lifted up my spirits. I got the courage to finally tell her about my condition and she accepted me for it. To this day I call her my best friend. She was my only friend at the time. I saw everyone have so much fun but I had to stay out of all of it because of the risks of me having a seizure. Events with strobe lights would trigger my brain. I even had to stop cheering for a few months while people wondered why I did. I was a happy cheerleader and cheered every year even in elementary school. As I got a little older I was told by doctors that my condition wasn’t severely horrible. I wasn't photo sensitive and was able to attend school dances with no worries, I was able to continue cheer and live my life just like others. But to this day and on I still feel like the odd one out. I had a seizure my freshman year in school while taking our finals and at that very moment my life as a “normal” high school student ended.

On the Job

I remember back in 9th and 10th grade at my old school Montgomery, trying to learn Spanish to get through the year and help understand what people were saying. Montgomery high school is mostly hispanic which can be an issue for someone who only speaks english and wants to make friends. Needless to say, I failed both years of spanish… But that doesn't mean I didn't learn anything. Today where I work most of my co-workers aren't very fluent in english meaning they need to speak spanish to me sometimes, and I can understand some of it and respond. My life at home has only been English except for my brothers who speak Italian and Japanese. But I've never tried to really learn anything meaningful from them. I only know some basic Italian and Japanese words. At school I would sometimes feel awkward when other students would speak spanish especially if they were talking about me, because I would have no idea what they're saying but they could understand what I said. I used to feel kind of ostracized because I felt as if they didnt like me because I was just another dumb white boy and I would rarely have racist moments where I would be bullied for it. At work my co-workers talk about me in Spanish and I sometimes worry that they’re talking smack about me but I can pick up on keywords that help me understand what they're talking about. And I can even respond depending on what they say. I always knew it wasn't serious like they dislike me but I hate not being able to understand what is exactly being said. I try to use Spanish more than English to help me learn more and not seem like I'm completely clueless. As I learn more and more, I hope one day I can be completely fluent In Spanish just by exposing myself to the language and culture.

Before I got my first phone -

Life was simple - My own

I was young - sweet - me,

Living life - free

Eyes on other eyes

Head above the Wise

Time spent outside -

Watching the clouds hide

Creativeness flowing in me,

All-day - Guarantee

lies unseen when I smiled -

Only joy - I had as a child

Everything ended one day,

The day - the phone was on display

I knew way deep down,

Everything would flip around