what matters and why

anywhere but there

creative i was once, am i now, have i lost all imagination, self esteem, have i closed myself off to the entire world. sad sometimes i think that i have potential to help others in need, but no desire to increase my social skills. i always wonder what could have been different growing up...what if my mother was more open, more willing to talk rather than pushing me away. she'd do everything for me yet never seemed to enjoy my company. she'd rather be alone, doing chores, mumbling to herself, wishing her own life had taken a different course. living with regrets that filtered down to us. she never yelled was never actually really angry. yet she was on the inside and never seemed to let her true emotions show...she was always hiding something. she never felt she deserved what she had and didn't want to let herself appreciate her own life. i didn't know how to relate to the outside world. i was too busy creating my own fantasies, it was easier to live in my head than actually maintain a functioning relationship with peers. phyiscal contact was rare if ever. we never hugged, let alone kissed. the words "i love you" were not spoken often. we knew, but we were supposed to love each other. it was part of the requirements of a family...we did what we were supposed to, we went through the motions. we rarely spoke of anything important. God was important, rules, religion. we knew what was allowed and what wasn't. there were no in betweens. i looked forward to the day when i had the freedom to break all those rules. she would drive while memorizing bible verses, speaking scripture to herself, with a bottle of water in the other. i often felt like a nuisance like i was in the way of her memorization. in the mornings, she'd be on her knees in the living room, praying for hours it seemed. she would always smell of sweat after her morning jogs, we would meet in that front room before school for a prayer. i cannot remember what was said. it wasn't important to me. i wanted no part in that. i wanted to break all the rules, i wanted to feel accepted and comfortable, i couldn't find that with my family and certainly couldn't find it with friends. i would do anything to fit in. i wanted to be a daredevil. when at school that moral background meant nothing to me. i didn't like my mother, i didn't even know my father well enough to know what i thought. i just wanted out. i fell into a deep hole of self misery. i wanted a family that would scream at each other when they were angry, siblings who could actually talk to. when we were little, we would fight and she would occasionally break it up, send us to our rooms, and all was well. we were never hit or spanked. i liked my room and could spent hours there alone, uninterrupted. i drew, i put my fantasy worlds on paper with floorplans and maps of cities. i imagined i belonged to a family who did not dote on religion, who didn't attend church and didn't expect anything of their children. a family who could laugh with each other, have a good time, mothers who would allow almost anything. i found solace in that room in the corner of the house, i would climb onto the roof on lonely nights and imagine i was someone else, anyone else. in the mirror, i saw no one i admired. i saw a face full of blemishes, a mouth full of braces. i hated what i saw. i imagined i had a mother who believed it was important to look pretty, one who would teach me the basics of make up and jewelry. instead, i was taught that those things were unimportant and material. i was too young to wear make up, i wasnt' supposed to look pretty. God was more important, and did he care if you had a good hair day? in the summer i would spend days all alone, sitting in a tree, drawing in my room, playing in the basement. i was too old to run around the neighborhoo,d like we used to, too young to go anywhere, too shy to get to know anyone, too embarrassed to be seen with my family. i despised the kids at school who had it all, yet i came from the picture perfect family. my mom had friends but not good ones, not until we were older, and their kids were younger. i imagined that i was my sisters age, who was six years younger. i wanted that child hood innocence back, days when hair and make up and boys didn't matter. the best days were when we were smaller, snowstorms and visits from relatives in the summer. Hours spent setting up intricate toy systems in the play room. some were good days. christmas was always happy and filled with hope. i liked church then, i liked the feeling that came with knowing i was safe then, i would pick out one small light on the christmas tree and imagine it was its own planet with its own tiny people. religion actually meant something to me that time of year, and the snow made it all perfect. we would tour the town and look at christmas lights, sometimes we'd have out of town relatives stay for the holidays. there was always good food, and great presents. we were not lacking in any aspect. when the excitement died down i would go back to feeling unimportant. winter was long and cold, but more than that i dreaded the long summer with no interaction. after days of doing nothing, i would lay awake in bed and cry, maybe from boredom. she was good enough to us, going through mood swings as she swept through the house cleaning. we were always expected to do chores, but they never got done and when they did they were not good enough for her. she was rarely consistent with that kind of thing. she preferred to have us out of her hair, entertaining ourselves. as long as we were quiet, all was well. dinner was always on time and was either spaghetti, chicken or some kind of casserole. we would sit around the table until each and every one of us was finished. she would try to get us to talk, attempting to create a perfect family atmosphere. we didn't want to talk. when we were younger my dad's stories of his childhood fascinated us, we sat around the table for hours listening. when we were older, i was too cool for that kind of thing. my mom would request we tell three things about our day, and i would answer sarcastically and dismiss her efforts to help us come together. i didn't want that. sometimes i wonder through the house with absolutely nothing to do. "bored," she'd ask, as she huffed through the room with a mop and a bucket, "here, do this," and i would be the designated floor mopper for the hour. i would do it in between sulking. she would go off and finish another task. when she'd come back, she would make a rude sound and i would know that i had mopped the floor wrong. it wouldn't be good enough, so she would do it herself. i'd go back to my wondering, and get on her nerves, and finally go play outside. "we're eating healthy this summer!" she screamed at me one day when i asked for a bowl of ice cream. i spent the next few hours sitting in the bushes in the backyard, promising myself that next time i would just go get the ice cream without bothering to ask. food was always an issue. there was never sweets allowed in the house, no sugar cereal, only wheat bread. she would eat while she would cook dinner, and then finish up what everyone would leave on their plates. she hated that fact that she could not control her eating habits and unsuccesfully attempted many diets though she was far from fat. she would try to tell me that she loved me but she didn't know how and by the time i'd reached adolescence it was too late. i didn't really care if she liked me or not. i didn't even acknowledge when she would express any kind of emotion toward me, good or bad. i just wanted everything to go my way, i didn't care who was hurt. the only one i felt any kind of sentiment toward was my sister, who was at that age where she had not a care in the world. she tried, my mom to reach me, she tried everything but she didn't know how. she seemed to have lost touch with her emotions a long time ago and didn't know how to tell me that i was important in her world. i always felt like nothing. i felt like nothing at school where my grades fell as the work was harder. i felt like nothing compared to my older brother who excelled in academics. but that wasn't important to me. more than that i wanted acceptance from my peers and would have done anything to get it. i had no self esteem. i felt like everyone knew something i didn't about life. i'd spent my childhood with few friends, and now friends were so important. i experienced rejection and hurt, people who i wanted to spend time with didn't care for me. friends came and went and with each relationship i put up another emotional wall. i was strong in some ways weak in others. i had a lot of growing up to do. i would sit in my closet sometimes, in the dark, hating my family and my upbringing. i hated that we spent so much time in our house, that we didn't have many friends or social activities. i felt inept when dealing with other people, i never knew what to say or how to act. i was painfully shy. i would lay on my bed, wondering if there was something more important that i could be doing.