Traumas

Hello Friends,

I am back.

I am back opening my thoughts out in the world to be judged and criticized by people I don’t know.

It’s been a whirlwind of activities for me for the past years. Real life happened. Stuff that makes life go around. Got a house to take care of. A husband to feed. And hopefully, a family to raise soon. It’s family life. and it’s supposed to be the most important thing in one’s life.

But somehow, I still need you. I still need this release from the thoughts that bothers me time and again. Those thoughts that I wouldn’t dare share with anybody I know for fear they might misunderstand.

Let’s start with this. As I look back on all my posts on the blog, it’s all about the mysterious ex – who haunts my dreams and steals my present joy. It’s funny how the past still can catch up on us in so subtle ways, creeping into the deepest thoughts where no one else could bother it but you. It’s in your head, and no one else but you can fix it.

Well right now, it’s not only about the what if’s of ex that bothers me. The show ‘Shiny Happy People’ triggered something in me about my upbringing. I am not part of that cult, and nor have I heard much about it until now. But I have experienced some of the ways that system teaches. And although I came out of it alive and kicking, I realize I grew up with so much hidden trauma that was left unreleased because of some of it.

Let me clear this up. I know my parents wanted only the best for me and my siblings. That’s why they left the church I grew up in without such warnings. As a kid with no other childhood friends than my church friends, leaving them was such an incomprehensible thing. I didn’t understand what was going on, I only knew the fact that we left and looked for another church that day. And my parents never looked back.

That was my first ‘trauma’. I missed my friends. It struck me that best friends never really exist then, because aren’t they suppose to be together all the time? Aren’t best friends supposed to be talking all the time? Little me got scared and never got close to any girls ever again.

Life went on. My parents even transferred us to a different school because of ‘doctrines’ they don’t agree with another from that other church. I was put into a famous catholic school in town to get us ‘better education’ I guess.

Traumatized me, who never knew of any other system at 12 years old, now got to deal with over-crowded hallways and at least 30 other students in one room. She had to learn how to cope with little people with different little personalities and find her ‘clique’ to feel like she belong. Somehow, she survived the first year and was able to gain some friendly acquaintances. Funny enough, I think she even got her first admirer at that time. He was so obsessed with me that he would pretend to accidentally touch my hand and dramatically look at me, slowly, like in the movies. Unfortunately, I didn’t share the sympathies so I tried to ignore the gestures. Such was my young love history.

My second year in that school was another struggle. New friends, New advisors. New teachers. Even scarier subjects. Math was getting so difficult but I was hanging on. The inner me became more reserved and quiet as the church life was getting more intense as well. My parents became even stricter, following these teachings that we shouldn’t be dating, or shouldn’t even have crushes, much less a boyfriend. The clothes I wore became even weirder, granny-looking as some would say. I just follow along because that’s what the parents wanted for us.

It was the teaching that the father is head of home and that he should have more control over his home that changed for us. I am not saying it’s wrong. Because I also believe it, as it is in the Bible. But that principle was held at such high regard that even during my college days and even after, the way I dress, the way I act, even my own personal love life and friends were controlled.

My friends had to wear skirts just to have sleepover in our house for projects we needed to do. We couldn’t use the computer in our bedroom for fear that we would browse something inappropriate. We couldn’t listen to secular music because ‘it’s from the devil’. My dad even had me break a cd from an upcoming artist at the time that I bought with my own savings (Another ‘Trauma’).

Guess what, I now wear all the clothes that they didn’t want me to wear and I can even make them now. At that time, I learned to how pirate songs and movies from my own computer not only to save money but to show them I can be resourceful too. And, I had boyfriends, too. Well, one had been the ex I’ve talked about here before. The other one is a rebound, who actually became my friend too before becoming my boyfriend, who was also my first kiss. And crazy enough, this rebound boyfriend once had been to my house to do ‘school project’, but actually he wanted us to makeout upstairs on the rooftop when the parents were sleeping.

So…so much for this quiet little girl who seemed reserved outside actually a real mess inside.

I guess, in hindsight it was better that way. If my parents weren’t strict, who knows what else I could have done. I could have done worse. LIke, insist on staying with the ex, despite their disapproval. I don’t know.

But everything led to where I am right now. Sitting here and reliving all this ‘trauma’ in my head, and sharing them to some faceless people.

Call this free therapy, or whatever. I guess for now, my rant is over.

Do you guys call this ‘trauma’? If not, what would you call it?