It’s not as easy to shut out the world as people would like to believe. And that’s the part that sucks the most.
As if dealing with the crap in life isn’t enough, you can’t shut it out. Eventually you’re going to have to face it. Or maybe you can’t get away in the first place. Either way, that’s probably why suicide is so romantically tempting.
I don’t know why I’ve avoided talking about what actually happened to me.
I need to write it down so I don’t forget.
Growing up, I was a very happy kid. My best friend was my brother. He invented up every single game we played and I got to be his sidekick. Every time. Computers? What were they? Who cares!
Those were the days, man.
My mom too, was amazing. I didn’t realize it, but every single day was actually really wonderful. She planned so much things to do, just because she wanted us to have fun. I probably took that much for granted and only realized this recently. You know what else I realized recently?
My dad wasn’t around.
That is where it all began. (Now I sound like I’m writing a movie script.)
My dad was always my brother’s friend. Ry loved soccer and Dad could get into that. I liked soccer on occasion, so Dad could get into that on occasion. But that also meant that Ry was always on Dad’s radar. There’s a lot of extra pressure being on Dad’s radar. He’s nice to you and can buy you things, but if he ever thinks you’re being ungrateful or something, aww shit.
My dad is big on gratitude. He’ll do things for you if you ask, but if you don’t say thank you, or don’t show your appreciation in some way…punishment. Or maybe ‘punishment’ is the wrong word. But he was certainly going to have his revenge. Maybe this meant the cold shoulder until you finally broke and asked him why he was being like that. Other times, he’d just make you do a lot of chores. Do the dishes by yourself. Clean up the table by yourself. Wash the car. I had nothing against doing chores, but if he saw you relaxing (like reading a book or watching tv) he would send you to do something.
All at once, he’s the most honest man I know and the most hypocritical.
I don’t know how to clearly explain all of the complexities behind my father. I think his greatest priority is being happy, then came other ethical things. But, I believe he put his happiness first. It’s something that he couldn’t shake, no matter how many children he had or how many years he spent with our family. For my dad to be selfless towards someone is not a natural inclination, it’s a carefully planned process. He has to weigh the options and decide if it’s worth his effort to do something. Even if he were to say that he only wants us to be happy, a large part of him needs a return of equal measure from someone.
He could only donate so much of his life to us before we wouldn’t be able to afford the price. I think it’s better that he’s no longer required to be around. It’s better for him and better for us. Maybe my mom and sister can afford the times he comes to visit now; that way he’ll be all there.
I think in essence, this was the reason my brother and I suffered at different times. My brother was two grades ahead of me – and lateborn – so he repeated sixth grade when he went to the school my dad taught at. For that year, he was alone with my dad on car rides. He got full exposure. At first, it’s really cool. I mean, my dad is a really cool guy. He’s clever and funny – even his students like him. A year later, I followed. But that was also the year we moved from Mililani and went downtown so that we’d be closer to our high school.
I was still out of my dad’s radar. My brother was the one joining high school soccer, I was only in sixth grade. That’s when the pressure began. Full exposure to Dad is too costly and my brother was, in essence, starting to run out of funds. I could see it happening too. Ry stopped smiling and soon, he stopped talking altogether. I spoke to him perhaps once in a month and then it eventually became once every three. I didn’t know how to help, all I knew was that my brother was dying on the inside.
Ry is strong though and he pulled through his misery by himself. School still took a lot out of him, but during summer he would brighten. He started saying that family came first and carried out on his promise, dragging even me to the beach every so often. He became really outgoing and popular, friends with practically all of his classmates.
A little later, it was my turn.
I was never extremely social before. I was quiet and shy and I couldn’t make friends unless there was someone by my side giving me confidence. I had close to zero self-confidence, inspired in part by my lack of knowing what was cool. I was out of my realm in this new school. In my old one, I had been considered a genius. I didn’t need to try to get perfect grades and teachers loved me. But at this new school, though it was impressive to say ‘one of the top schools in the nation’, that would have been deceiving. Because I was doing bad. The kids around me knew things that I hadn’t even considered learning about. They were all so fashionable and already formed cliques based on who they played with in the sandbox.
After some time though, I found a niche. My friends were new as well and though we didn’t have that many similarities, it was possible to play tag and just coexist in this need for companionship that we had developed.
By seventh grade, more things changed. The massive group of people that had played tag together dwindled down to just two. The rest were exploring worlds like boys and clothes and essentially, they were growing up. My single friend was too, but I clung to her. I don’t think she knows how much I needed her that year, but the feeling of being without her would have suffocated me.
Those were the awkward years. I hated them. In tenth grade, I had gained some confidence. I had figured out that I didn’t need people who I didn’t like and people had begun finding that out as well. I guess it was inevitable that I would find myself with such extremely nerdy people. We bonded.
And, at the same time, I was falling apart. I had finally done what I didn’t know was possible. I had stolen my dad’s attention. Somewhere along the way, my interests began to coincide with his. The most distressing is how seriously I loved the things he did. We spent time talking, laughing, sharing. It’s similar to becoming his favorite child, but at the same time, you’re also going to start attracting his wrath. If you’re always beside him, it makes sense that you piss him off the most. And even if you’re not the reason he’s angry, you’ll be there when he gets mad.
In tenth grade, I was miserable. I won’t lie, it was in part due to an unhappy deadlock I was in with a guy, but with all the pressure my dad was putting on me to perform to some expectations he had developed, I couldn’t do anything right. I stopped hanging out with friends and I just wanted to sleep all of the time. He’d get mad over the tiniest of things. If I slept in too late or if I didn’t feed my dog by a certain time. If I didn’t say goodbye to him when I left in the morning or if I didn’t take the bus home and caught a ride from someone else. Sometimes, he’d hear things from teachers who had me, and when they said nice things, he’d laugh and play modest. But at home, he’d get mad and say that I was lying if I could smile in front of a teacher but I couldn’t smile at home. It was like I was walking on a wire, with bombs exploding beneath me.
I might have had depression, but I’ll never know. I want to be able to say that my family was abusing me or that someone close to me had died, but my problems were a lot less dramatic than that.
I told myself I couldn’t complain. I didn’t want my friends to know how worthless I felt so I didn’t tell them a thing. I didn’t breath a word or show them my unhappiness. School was most certainly depressing and difficult, but my friends were just one escape. I could laugh and pretend nothing was wrong until I went back home and had to endure yet another one of my dad’s scoldings.
I managed for the most part. With the glimmers of laughter with my friends, I constantly reminded myself that I had a good life. There were plenty of people with even harder lives than me. My misery and suffering was nowhere close to what they were suffering. And, I knew that things like that came in waves. My low point would soon start to pick up, my happiness would become truer and my sadness more distant. I was being rational in a looming emotional crisis, I guess.
In junior year, with a sudden onset of pressures from harder classes and the looming threat of college, things got really bad. On October 31, 2010, I nearly killed myself. My dog actually stopped me, as strange as that sounds. I had gotten into an argument with my mom and things had just reached an all time low. I didn’t care how many people were suffering elsewhere in the world or how much more deserving those people were of justice. I simply did not want to wake up anymore. I left the house and stood in the middle of the main street, hoping a car would be driving fast enough to take my life before I could chicken out. My dog ran after me though and the thought of him getting hurt scared me so much, I ran onto the sidewalk before he could follow me. I really love my dog and though my friends just laugh, they don’t realize that he actually saved my life.
Looking back on it now, I’m not sad about any of it. It’s almost impossible to remember exactly how I felt during that time. I came out stronger and I talked with my brother about it. When he explained what he had, I was scared to know it was the exact same thing I went through. That experience changed both of us though. My brother in his forwardness in life, and me in my honesty. This whole idea of honesty is too difficult for me to explain while staying on track, but for the most part, just know that I think I’m a better person now.
p.s. after a shower, my hair looks so good. why can’t it look like this all the time?
p.p.s. this post was everything about life, mine and in general. Now I have attempted to validate the title.
