My no good, very bad, horrible day
My no good, very bad, horrible day stories
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milyrd
milyrdCommunity member
Autoplay OFF  •  10 months ago
I don’t know how it started. Maybe it was the hormones, maybe it was the combination of taking AP Chemistry double period, Pre-Calculus, English Honors, Spanish 3, dance team, and AP European History that blew my mind.

My no good, very bad, horrible day

I don’t know how it started.

Maybe it was the hormones, maybe it was the combination of taking AP Chemistry double period, Pre-Calculus, English Honors, Spanish 3, dance team, and AP European History that blew my mind.

However, that day, I felt overwhelmed.

I felt it in me…ready to scream.

It was in AP Chemistry that this urge manifested itself. It was so loud I could hardly contain it.

On the outside I calmly walked over to the front desk, dropped my bathroom pass on the table, as instructed to, and walked out.

But on the inside, I was a sack of jelly because after leaving the room, I found my legs going, going, going, - until I was gone.

I passed the indoor bathroom, right out of the main building, out the doors, passed the outside bathroom, running, breathing hard, out to the fields, and panting,

running beyond the school boundaries as I headed to the local park.

Then I sat, hunched over, head in my knees and cried.

Years later, in my teacher credential class, my professor talked about trauma.

She described how animals react when they are accosted, such as zebras hunted by lions, and the post trauma effects.

For after the lion has left, caught, and killed one of their own to eat, and all is calm, then the zebra starts to show a physical manifestation of the fear.

Frantic, convulsive shaking, begins afterwards.

After, it is over, the zebra prances away, as if nothing had happened. And life goes on.

That crying helped. Mostly. That running too. What I didn’t know then was that I needed to face that fear, and let it leave, the very essence of my being – at the cellular level.

It was baggage I had stuffed down in my stomach, bubbling, and brewing full of all the emotions I had swallowed, year after year.

When the gas had built up and could no longer be contained, it would pop out in anger on undeserving family, friends, and teachers.

Frustration grew from not being able to solve homework problems, not getting the perfect scores, or the A’s in pre-Calculus, having trouble remembering terms, vocabulary, history dates,

not getting the delivery right, hitting the tennis ball constantly into the net, looking at chemistry as it was a foreign language, and having difficulty communicating this to anyone,

especially my parents.

Meekness was my weakness. Not being able to communicate my emotions, became a trap.

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What I found out then, after crying, wiping away my tears, was that I still had to go back to class, for the rest of the year.

I still sat through those classes, completing my homework, doing the best I could. I could complain, but to whom?

And my regular solace, books, were of no use to me. They were full of depressed, unhappy characters in both fiction and real life, who didn’t have tools to fight the fight.

Somehow, I made it through the year. And I learned something very important.

This was in no way a reflection of anyone else’s journey but mine…and in my journey, I knew that I struggled, failed, and had to get up again.

To me, ironically, it didn’t make a single watt of logical sense to be on the losing team, and give up. I hated to lose.

It was important to struggle early on and overcome it. Having things handed to you, easy come, easy go was in a way a curse.

Not having to struggle or fight for what you believed in, made me a complainer,

weakened by the first wind gust that would come my way – looking back I would have been fearful of what would have happened if there was an actual hurricane I had to face.

So it was not surprise later, when I entered my second test of life, in college, that in those moments where I was on the verge of recognizing the difference between sanity and insanity,

that I was blessed to choose sanity.

When I felt like fight or flight, I chose fight, although grumbling, and when I faced my fears, my feelings, and doubts over the course of my life, I could wake up and truly say,

that each day was now a new day.

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