A couple of months ago I wrote a post about texting with anxiety. It felt really good to get it out there, to give some insight into what goes on in the depths of my anxious mind and maybe reach some people, perhaps even people who have experienced text anxiety themselves. If it went over well, I was even going to submit it to The Mighty; maybe I can help heal the world, one post at a time!
It got 4 views.
Eh, better than nothing, right? Nevertheless, here I am, writing another post about my anxiety and texting. Because reaching 4 people is still something.
The last post was largely about sending and receiving texts, which is obviously step one. By no means does the anxiety stop there, though. There's the anxiety of crafting a good message. And the anxiety of waiting for a response. And, for me, the effects of anxiety on my interpretation of a response. This post is going to be about the latter.
As an empath, I'm usually pretty good at reading people in person. There are times when I struggle; if my own emotions are particularly strong in a given moment, they can sometimes taint the 'signal' I'm getting from someone else. For example, if I'm feeling particularly low/sad, and someone I'm with delivers a dry, sarcastic remark (which I'm usually all about), I might mistake their tone as hostile or annoyed instead of joking. Many times, all it takes is a moment to look at them, to absorb facial cues and body language, as well as remind myself that most people are not inherently mean and my mind loves to play tricks on me, and I can usually reassess and figure out that they're kidding. Phew!
The issue with texting then, as you likely already guessed, is that I'm missing all of those clues: tone, expression, body language... all out the window. Imagine an entire conversation in which the person you're speaking to has a blank face, doesn't move, and remains monotone throughout. Would you have any idea what they were feeling? Probably not. So what do you do?
If you're like me, you project. I think of it like watching black and white TV. At a certain point, my brain just kind of fills the color in for me. Not in a conscious way necessarily. I mean, I don't literally start seeing colors in place of grayscale. But my imagination makes suggestions, and if push came to shove, I could tell you what I think the colors are or should be.
Reading texts can be similar - without being able to hear the actual tone intended for a statement, my brain comes up with a tone in order to assign additional context and meaning. And often, I imagine it's dead wrong, but short of asking things like "How did you mean that?" or "That was a joke, right?" after every text, there has to be at least a little bit of guesswork on behalf of the recipient.
Likewise, I fear that whoever is reading a text from me is going through the same struggle. What if I don't properly convey my emotional response in this brief interaction? What if they think I'm being a raging bitch-monster when I'm just trying to be my lovable, snarky AF self?! It legitimately makes me anxious just thinking about it.
And I know I'm not alone here. Think about the 'evolution' of LOL. Remember what that actually stands for? Laughing OUT LOUD. Unless we're all a bunch of hysterical hyenas, we are NOT reserving it for just those times. These days its use is, more or less, intended to convey some kind of tone. Sometimes it suggests, "I'm gonna say this thing, but I don't want you to take it too seriously." Or maybe, "I'm just responding positively to your humorous statement/gif/whatever; I don't actually have anything to say but I don't want you to feel ignored." Or my personal favorite, "I don't want shit to get awkward if we're not on the same page here, so I'm using these three letters as my own personal safety net."
It doesn't stop at LOL either; I, personally, have several ways of trying to inject tone or emotion into messages. Punctuation and capitalization are probably the most obvious (which is why I overuse the hell out of exclamation marks), but there are others. Extra letters, for example. If someone tells/shows me something and I like it or am impressed, 'nice' becomes 'niiiiiiiiice.' The more disappointed or displeased I am, the more Os get added to the word 'boo' or 'no.' And when I'm excited, the number of Ss that get tagged onto the end of a 'yes' or an occasional 'yas' can vary from a few extra to "Did her finger get stuck?"
The most polarizing way to establish mood/tone/whatever, though, has to be emojis (or emoticons; yes, I know there's a difference, but shut up). As we all know, some people love the little dudes to the point of overuse. Some people aren't fans of using them at all, except in extreme circumstances. Others find them downright obnoxious. Personally, I think they're pretty helpful, not to mention kind of fun to use.I'm 99% sure that my friends think I'm just an emoji whore, but it's more than just a cute little image to me. Emojis help me express the sentiment of a statement, and they REALLY help me interpret the tone of someone else's, especially when the text is a one-word response. 'Okay' is not a particularly warm word. We know it represents an affirmative response, but that doesn't mean it's always a POSITIVE response. The same goes for words like 'sure' and 'fine' (which many argue almost always means the exact opposite). Check it out.
Person 1: Hey, you wanna catch a movie tonight?
Person 2: Sure
Obviously, the response is affirmative, but the individual doesn't sound super excited. As Person 1, I'd be reading into that WAY too much (because it's what I do). Do they REALLY want to go to the movie, or are they just saying yes for the sake of saying yes? Am I bugging them by asking? Should I back out of it to let them off the hook? The mind races, and inevitably I'm assuming the absolute worst when all they really meant was 'sure.' BUT, add a smile in there, and...
Person 1: Hey, you wanna catch a movie tonight?
Person 2: Sure 😀
As stupid as it might sound, that little yellow dude grinning like an idiot makes me feel immeasurably better about Person 2's response. Like, aha! They're happy to be asked and happy to say yes. This is good and fills me with much happiness of my own. Huzzah!
I'm working on trying NOT to read so much into simple messages, but it can be pretty rough sometimes. If I just used a plethora of smiley faces and exclamation marks but your response ends in a period (dun dun DUN!!), it's hard to redirect my brain from immediately thinking you clearly hate my guts and never want to talk to me again. Or, at the very least, that you're obviously not as jazzed about the topic at hand as I am and probably think I'm kind of a goober.
So, if you don't worry about this kind of stuff, you've probably determined that I am all kinds of certifiable. I'm not saying you're wrong. Maybe I am crazy. But maybe you like me anyway. And maybe you know OTHER people who think/feel similarly (perish the thought!) and want some insight to help you communicate better. On the other hand, if you DO worry about this kind of stuff, now you can cue up 'You Are Not Alone' and bask in the knowledge that someone else is your brand of crazy! 😊
Showing posts with label anxiety. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anxiety. Show all posts
Monday, January 27, 2020
Friday, November 15, 2019
The Unfortunate Double Standard of Texting With Anxiety
Right off the bat, I want to start by pointing out that I can only speak to MY experiences. Not everyone with an anxiety disorder or who fights with anxiety has the same thoughts or feelings. Someone may read this and think, "Yeah, some of that kinda sounds like me!" Someone else might read it and go, "Damn, that's messed up. I have anxiety and I've never felt like that!" It should go without saying, but not everyone with anxiety is identical in how their anxiety manifests, how they handle it, how they think about it... But I digress.
I've never been huge on phone calls. Sure, I did some of the teenage girl thing where I'd be on the phone for hours at a time talking about nothing at all, but it was never comfortable or natural. I paced a lot, which is a lot harder when you have a corded phone. (If you're too young to have experienced this, just imagine that your cell phone had to be plugged into the wall charger ALL THE TIME - the horror!). Once I got a cordless phone, I would wander outside and hop on the swingset or just wander around the house. Sitting still wasn't really an option if I was on a call that lasted more than about five minutes.
It's also worth pointing out that the vast majority of these calls were made TO me, not BY me. I'll get to why this is important later, but very rarely have I ever gone, "Man, I should just call up what's-her-bucket and chat for a while!" Odds were also good that one of my parents answered the phone first and handed it off to me; the only time I answered the phone of my own volition was when no one else was home and I was worried it might be a call about my parents, which is another part of my childhood anxiety we don't have time for in this post.
("Why not let the machine get it?" you may ask. Easy. My parents believed that "if it's important, they'll call back" so it was FOREVER before we even had one. Like, we skipped the whole type of machine that had the tape you had to rewind. Our very first answering machine had multiple "inboxes" and was completely digital. And while my parents said it was more about dad's work, I still think that the biggest reason we got one was that I kept using *69 to find out if anyone had called for me while I was gone. Again, if you're too young for this reference... I don't know, go find someone who was alive and using phones in the 90s and ask them to regale you with stories of the world of old.)
I got my first cell phone when I was 20 and I'm pretty sure I sent my first text that very day. Kids, this was back in the day when not only was texting a major pain in the ass, it was also pretty costly. Phone plans gave you a certain number of texts each month and anything beyond that cost extra. I'm here to tell you that a phone aversion + pay-to-play texting = money problems. In fact, my phone bills were a big reason I couldn't put enough money away to return to school back in 2005 and led me down my
current life path, so... Stay in school? No, that's not the point here. Moving on.
Texting was expensive and I was, well, not exactly swimming in excess cash. So once my text limit was reached each month, I got used to taking phone calls with certain important people in my life. Again, they mostly called me instead of the other way around, but the freedom of being able to wander while talking allowed me to work out some of that nervous energy and I was able to stand it for a bit.
These days, texting (or any version of "instant" messaging) seems to be just part of daily life for the majority of us. (Hell, my parents text, and my dad is the guy who used to pride himself on the fact that all he knew about our home PC was how to turn it on and off.) And while I'm much better about using the phone these days (yay therapy!), texting is still my preferred method of communication.
Remember when I mentioned that most of the time people had/have to call me instead of the other way around? (It was several paragraphs ago, so if you don't remember or don't want to go back that far, just take my word on it.) I constantly worried that I would be interrupting something or that my call would be unwelcome or annoying in some way. Basically, I didn't think anyone wanted to hear from me, because if they did, wouldn't they have called me? Yes, I'm aware of the flaws in that way of thinking. Yes, I'm aware that most people just don't answer right away if they're inconvenienced or don't want to talk. But for some reason, my anxiety convinces me that I'm going to be a bother to whoever I'm calling.
The same applies to texting. With VERY few exceptions (mostly my bestie and my sister), I am extremely hesitant to send an unsolicited, unprompted text message to most people I know. Circumstances make no difference. We could literally have been texting up a storm the day before, but today is a new day, and maybe today you don't want to deal with me, so... I should probably just leave you alone. The rational part of me goes, "Dude, if they're busy or don't want to chat with you, they'll just ignore it. It's fine." Then anxiety comes back with, "But how do I know if they're ignoring me because they're busy or if it's because they don't want to talk to me anymore?? If I don't text, then I don't have to worry about that!"
Yes, I realize how fucked up that is.
So, what makes texting such a double standard for me? The fact that I LOVE getting messages from the people in my life. Nothing puts a smile on my face like hearing from people I care about. I don't care if we haven't spoken in months; if you send a random AF text, my heart will be oh so happy. It doesn't even have to be like, "OMG, it's been too long and I miss you. We should totally talk sometime soon!" Honestly, it could just say, "Sup?" and I'd be genuinely psyched just to hear from you.
Plus, I worry. I know that's beyond obvious, but sometimes I think people underestimate the levels of worry that I can reach. And, my apologies to those of you in my texting circle... the more frequently we send messages, the worse the worry can get. For example, if I don't hear from my bestie in a few days (or, sometimes, a few hours), I start getting concerned. Is she okay? Did I say something to piss her off? Is her family okay? What did I do wrong? Are we still friends? WHAT DID I DO?!
Alright, I know that seems a little (or a lot) crazy, but that's anxiety. On a bad day, I can end up doubting that my bestie even wants to be friends with me anymore just because I haven't heard from her. This is my hetero lifemate. My person. My piece of corn (sorry, that one's an inside joke). Of fucking COURSE she's my friend! She's my BEST friend. Thankfully (yet, unfortunately), she understands the insecurities and insanity of anxiety and never hesitates to remind me that I'm a dummy if I think she's going anywhere.
And yet, ask her if I've ever apologized to her for "bugging" her with a message. Or saying something like, "Sorry, I'll let you go. Didn't want to bother you." Because the answer is yes. I haven't done it so much lately (we made a deal where we're not allowed to apologize to one another for such things; I'm doing my best to stick to it), but I absolutely have said sorry for texting MY BEST FRIEND. And at the same time, I would NEVER want her to apologize for messaging me, no matter the context or content. How could she ever be a bother to me?
There you have it. I'm constantly worried I'm bothering people with my texts, but my own heart soars when I hear that little ding. Someone's thinking of me! Someone wants to talk to me! Someone likes me enough to engage me in conversation! YAY!! I'm trying to turn that thinking back around; mightn't other people be happy to hear from me, just as I'm happy to hear from them? It's really hard to challenge negative thoughts, but I am actually trying.
Just the other day I was worried about bothering someone who was having a rough day, but then I thought, "Hmmm, if I was having a tough time, I'd really appreciate a text..." And so, I texted. A small but important victory, IMO. (Okay, so I've already since apologized for bothering the same person with a different text... baby steps, Bob! BABY STEPS!) Someday, I won't need to talk myself through that; for now, all I can do is keep trying.
Phew! This got a lot longer than I meant, so if you're still reading... Well, I won't apologize. You made the choice to keep reading, and I appreciate it. Thank you. :)
 |
| We won't even get into rotary phones... |
It's also worth pointing out that the vast majority of these calls were made TO me, not BY me. I'll get to why this is important later, but very rarely have I ever gone, "Man, I should just call up what's-her-bucket and chat for a while!" Odds were also good that one of my parents answered the phone first and handed it off to me; the only time I answered the phone of my own volition was when no one else was home and I was worried it might be a call about my parents, which is another part of my childhood anxiety we don't have time for in this post.
("Why not let the machine get it?" you may ask. Easy. My parents believed that "if it's important, they'll call back" so it was FOREVER before we even had one. Like, we skipped the whole type of machine that had the tape you had to rewind. Our very first answering machine had multiple "inboxes" and was completely digital. And while my parents said it was more about dad's work, I still think that the biggest reason we got one was that I kept using *69 to find out if anyone had called for me while I was gone. Again, if you're too young for this reference... I don't know, go find someone who was alive and using phones in the 90s and ask them to regale you with stories of the world of old.)
I got my first cell phone when I was 20 and I'm pretty sure I sent my first text that very day. Kids, this was back in the day when not only was texting a major pain in the ass, it was also pretty costly. Phone plans gave you a certain number of texts each month and anything beyond that cost extra. I'm here to tell you that a phone aversion + pay-to-play texting = money problems. In fact, my phone bills were a big reason I couldn't put enough money away to return to school back in 2005 and led me down my
 |
| While not my 1st phone, I totally had this bad boy for quite some time. #RIPcingular |
Texting was expensive and I was, well, not exactly swimming in excess cash. So once my text limit was reached each month, I got used to taking phone calls with certain important people in my life. Again, they mostly called me instead of the other way around, but the freedom of being able to wander while talking allowed me to work out some of that nervous energy and I was able to stand it for a bit.
These days, texting (or any version of "instant" messaging) seems to be just part of daily life for the majority of us. (Hell, my parents text, and my dad is the guy who used to pride himself on the fact that all he knew about our home PC was how to turn it on and off.) And while I'm much better about using the phone these days (yay therapy!), texting is still my preferred method of communication.
Remember when I mentioned that most of the time people had/have to call me instead of the other way around? (It was several paragraphs ago, so if you don't remember or don't want to go back that far, just take my word on it.) I constantly worried that I would be interrupting something or that my call would be unwelcome or annoying in some way. Basically, I didn't think anyone wanted to hear from me, because if they did, wouldn't they have called me? Yes, I'm aware of the flaws in that way of thinking. Yes, I'm aware that most people just don't answer right away if they're inconvenienced or don't want to talk. But for some reason, my anxiety convinces me that I'm going to be a bother to whoever I'm calling.
The same applies to texting. With VERY few exceptions (mostly my bestie and my sister), I am extremely hesitant to send an unsolicited, unprompted text message to most people I know. Circumstances make no difference. We could literally have been texting up a storm the day before, but today is a new day, and maybe today you don't want to deal with me, so... I should probably just leave you alone. The rational part of me goes, "Dude, if they're busy or don't want to chat with you, they'll just ignore it. It's fine." Then anxiety comes back with, "But how do I know if they're ignoring me because they're busy or if it's because they don't want to talk to me anymore?? If I don't text, then I don't have to worry about that!"
Yes, I realize how fucked up that is.
So, what makes texting such a double standard for me? The fact that I LOVE getting messages from the people in my life. Nothing puts a smile on my face like hearing from people I care about. I don't care if we haven't spoken in months; if you send a random AF text, my heart will be oh so happy. It doesn't even have to be like, "OMG, it's been too long and I miss you. We should totally talk sometime soon!" Honestly, it could just say, "Sup?" and I'd be genuinely psyched just to hear from you.
 |
| 2 words can say SO much more |
Plus, I worry. I know that's beyond obvious, but sometimes I think people underestimate the levels of worry that I can reach. And, my apologies to those of you in my texting circle... the more frequently we send messages, the worse the worry can get. For example, if I don't hear from my bestie in a few days (or, sometimes, a few hours), I start getting concerned. Is she okay? Did I say something to piss her off? Is her family okay? What did I do wrong? Are we still friends? WHAT DID I DO?!
Alright, I know that seems a little (or a lot) crazy, but that's anxiety. On a bad day, I can end up doubting that my bestie even wants to be friends with me anymore just because I haven't heard from her. This is my hetero lifemate. My person. My piece of corn (sorry, that one's an inside joke). Of fucking COURSE she's my friend! She's my BEST friend. Thankfully (yet, unfortunately), she understands the insecurities and insanity of anxiety and never hesitates to remind me that I'm a dummy if I think she's going anywhere.
And yet, ask her if I've ever apologized to her for "bugging" her with a message. Or saying something like, "Sorry, I'll let you go. Didn't want to bother you." Because the answer is yes. I haven't done it so much lately (we made a deal where we're not allowed to apologize to one another for such things; I'm doing my best to stick to it), but I absolutely have said sorry for texting MY BEST FRIEND. And at the same time, I would NEVER want her to apologize for messaging me, no matter the context or content. How could she ever be a bother to me?
There you have it. I'm constantly worried I'm bothering people with my texts, but my own heart soars when I hear that little ding. Someone's thinking of me! Someone wants to talk to me! Someone likes me enough to engage me in conversation! YAY!! I'm trying to turn that thinking back around; mightn't other people be happy to hear from me, just as I'm happy to hear from them? It's really hard to challenge negative thoughts, but I am actually trying.
Just the other day I was worried about bothering someone who was having a rough day, but then I thought, "Hmmm, if I was having a tough time, I'd really appreciate a text..." And so, I texted. A small but important victory, IMO. (Okay, so I've already since apologized for bothering the same person with a different text... baby steps, Bob! BABY STEPS!) Someday, I won't need to talk myself through that; for now, all I can do is keep trying.
Phew! This got a lot longer than I meant, so if you're still reading... Well, I won't apologize. You made the choice to keep reading, and I appreciate it. Thank you. :)
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Happy Happy, Joy Joy!
Nov. 13 - Yesterday I was thankful for...
Disney!!
That may sound silly to you, but I am thankful for all things Disney. Growing up, I was always begging for the latest Disney video (I actually screamed when I got Beauty & The Beast from my Mam-maw for Christmas). I never missed a Disney movie in the theatre. In fact, I saw Aladdin in the theatre 3 times on its first go. I've seen Nightmare and Nemo twice each; once the first time around and once in 3D later in life. My room as a baby through age 3 or 4 was Winnie the Pooh themed. I've been to Disney World 5 times and already have WAY in advance plans for a 6th trip (our 5th anniversary in 2015) and a first trip to Disneyland with my bestie after that.
In college, I was known for my love of Disney. My roommate bought me Finding Nemo the very day it was released on video, and friends would bring me little toys from McD's or from cereal boxes if they were Disney related. I watch the Disney Channel (no, I don't care that I'm 28) and have an entire piano book full of Disney songs. I'm working on a Disney wall for our bedroom and looking around the living room, I can see at least two Perrys (from Phineas & Ferb), a Fantasia hippo, Mickey & Minnie ears, Disney Trivial Pursuit, and more.
Now, my love of Disney pales in comparison to my bestie. (Thankfully, this isn't a contest; I would lose.) But compared to most people I know, I'm a bit of a fanatic. Everything I've listed above makes me so genuinely happy! I know there are a lot of people who dislike Disney (or downright hate it), and there are people who think it's just for kids. They're entitled to believe that, but they are TOTALLY missing out on something that brings so much joy to so many people. I can always count on something Disney to lift my spirits, and for that, I'm thankful.
Nov. 14 - Today I am thankful for...
Antidepressants.
If you've read my blog before, you know I've struggled with anxiety, depression and some tendencies of OCD. It's not a super fun topic, but these things are very, very real and very, very serious. It's a little different for everyone, I suppose, but I would imagine most people would agree that living with a mental disorder can be hard and lonely.
Thankfully for me, my medications make life much nicer and more manageable. I'm personally on fluoxetine (Prozac) and bupropion (Wellbutrin), and these two little drugs have made a world of difference in my life. I will probably always need them, and that's OK. I'd rather my quality of life be better than be too proud to be "dependent" on pills.
Am I 100% with the pills? Of course not. I still have my days and my quirks (like not being able to make phone calls without feeling like I'm going to vomit the whole time), but when compared to life without the pills, things are a million times better. And for that, I'm thankful.
Disney!!
That may sound silly to you, but I am thankful for all things Disney. Growing up, I was always begging for the latest Disney video (I actually screamed when I got Beauty & The Beast from my Mam-maw for Christmas). I never missed a Disney movie in the theatre. In fact, I saw Aladdin in the theatre 3 times on its first go. I've seen Nightmare and Nemo twice each; once the first time around and once in 3D later in life. My room as a baby through age 3 or 4 was Winnie the Pooh themed. I've been to Disney World 5 times and already have WAY in advance plans for a 6th trip (our 5th anniversary in 2015) and a first trip to Disneyland with my bestie after that.
In college, I was known for my love of Disney. My roommate bought me Finding Nemo the very day it was released on video, and friends would bring me little toys from McD's or from cereal boxes if they were Disney related. I watch the Disney Channel (no, I don't care that I'm 28) and have an entire piano book full of Disney songs. I'm working on a Disney wall for our bedroom and looking around the living room, I can see at least two Perrys (from Phineas & Ferb), a Fantasia hippo, Mickey & Minnie ears, Disney Trivial Pursuit, and more.
Now, my love of Disney pales in comparison to my bestie. (Thankfully, this isn't a contest; I would lose.) But compared to most people I know, I'm a bit of a fanatic. Everything I've listed above makes me so genuinely happy! I know there are a lot of people who dislike Disney (or downright hate it), and there are people who think it's just for kids. They're entitled to believe that, but they are TOTALLY missing out on something that brings so much joy to so many people. I can always count on something Disney to lift my spirits, and for that, I'm thankful.
Nov. 14 - Today I am thankful for...
Antidepressants.
If you've read my blog before, you know I've struggled with anxiety, depression and some tendencies of OCD. It's not a super fun topic, but these things are very, very real and very, very serious. It's a little different for everyone, I suppose, but I would imagine most people would agree that living with a mental disorder can be hard and lonely.
Thankfully for me, my medications make life much nicer and more manageable. I'm personally on fluoxetine (Prozac) and bupropion (Wellbutrin), and these two little drugs have made a world of difference in my life. I will probably always need them, and that's OK. I'd rather my quality of life be better than be too proud to be "dependent" on pills.
Am I 100% with the pills? Of course not. I still have my days and my quirks (like not being able to make phone calls without feeling like I'm going to vomit the whole time), but when compared to life without the pills, things are a million times better. And for that, I'm thankful.
Monday, May 7, 2012
Riki's History Part 1: Depression & Anxiety
I've been trying to figure out how to work up to a certain entry, and I think this is probably the best way to begin. It'll take a few installments, but, I feel like it will help me deal with some things and bring some lesser-known info to light.
When I was six, I started having terrible stomach aches every night. I'd wake my mom up and she'd sit in the bathroom with me while I waited to puke, but it never came. After awhile, I stopped waking her up, and I stopped rushing to the toilet and accepted the fact that my stomach hated me.
We tried different diets, as suggested by my doctor. The no-dairy one was the hardest, because I'm a true Sconnie. I missed milk. And cheese And ice cream. (Oddly enough, they let me have yogurt, so I didn't have to miss that.) The worst part was that none of the diets worked.
As years passed, the stomach aches either became less frequent/bothersome or I was so used to them that I didn't notice anymore (most likely a combination thereof). It wasn't until I was an adult that we discovered the most likely cause of my stomach aches was anxiety. Maybe it had been more apparent if I had told my mom about the recurring images in my head of someone murdering my family and leaving me behind. Or if I had told my parents that every night I worried that our locks weren't good enough or that my parents wouldn't wake up if someone broke in. Or if I had told them that so many of my nightmares didn't come while I was sleeping, but while I was laying in bed hoping to fall asleep so the thoughts would stop. But I didn't tell them, so they never knew.
When I was thirteen, the topic of suicide came up. I don't remember how or why. I didn't exactly want to try it, but the idea intrigued me. Around this age, I started to write poetry. Two poems in particular threw up a bright red flag.
Life is like a nightmare,
in which I have come,
it grabs me and holds on tight,
until the morning sun.
Don't smile, don't laugh, don't even cry,
not a hint of sympathy,
life is like a nightmare,
it has gone and embraced me.
Life is never easy,
life is never fair,
life is like a nightmare,
so why do I even care.
And the more succinct (and scary) 4-liner:
Life is never easy
Causes lots of stress
Life is all my problems
The answer must be death.
My friends were, needless to say, concerned. I tried to assure them that they were only words, and they backed off for awhile...
Until some of my friends on the school newspaper decided to start an advice column. They asked us to submit a few questions to get the ball rolling, and along with the more trivial, "I like this boy, but I think he likes someone else. What do I do?" questions, I submitted one about contemplating suicide. Big mistake.
My friends took this as a cry for help (and, maybe it was... I'm not sure what my 13-year-old self was really thinking or capable of doing) and alerted a teacher or two. Next thing I know, I'm being hauled off to the school's psychologist to take what I now know to be a simplified depression screening test. "I am happy... 1) Rarely or never. 2) Occasionally. 3) Sometimes. 4) Most of the time. 5) Frequently or always."
Here's the thing... I was a pretty smart kid. I knew I couldn't flat-out lie and say I was all sunshine and sprinkles, but I knew that if I let them think I was miserable, I was in big trouble. So, I answered with mostly 3s, threw in some 4s and 2s for good measure, and asked if I could go back to class. I had to go back to the psychologist's office once a month or something for awhile. Every time I would make sure to wear sparkly makeup and do my hair up fun. I'm not sure if it was an attempt to say, "See? I'm fun and fine!" or "Look! I'm different and weird!" Either way, they eventually stopped making appointments for me and all was well in the world of Riki. If my parents knew about it (and I have to expect that the school called them), I don't think they ever mentioned it.
The worst part about this experience was the friends that I lost. For a year or so, I had been hanging out with the other 4.0s (other straight A students), even though I think I had a 3.8 or something. We all had a passion for writing, and would stay in at lunch, reading each others' stories and plays, developing characters, all sorts of things. It had been one of the 4.0s who had told on me, and while I wasn't mad anymore, she and the others were apparently scared or bothered enough by the ordeal that they stopped reading my plays and stopped hanging out with me.
I latched on to another group of friends, and while they weren't interested in writing their first novel, they were nice to me and accepted me. Those few friends were my lifeline for the rest of that year, and some of them for even longer. In fact, ten years later I met my husband through one of the people who helped me through that time.
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