Has this ever happened to you?

When I was in middle and high school, I went through some traumatic stuff.  I didn't have anyone I really felt like I could talk to about it except for a friend of mine whose company I enjoyed and who had been through a similar experience.  We hung out all the time and were into a lot of the same things, but he wasn't the type to invest emotionally, at least not openly, and I ended up not getting what I needed as far as emotional support went.  He had been my go-to, and I ended up feeling let down and like he didn't care enough to talk to me about it.

But he was always sending me music to listen to, and one of the songs he sent me, which I hadn't listened to in years, just came up randomly on a Spotify playlist I was listening to.  With a bit of temporal distance, I was able to hear the lyrics for what they were--the support I was begging this friend to give me.

I'm feeling pretty silly for having received the message several years too late...

We're all frogs sitting in a pot of water as it slowly comes to a boil.

Everything changes, always, but it tends to happen too slowly for us to notice.

Big events like milestone birthdays and weddings and first times leave us disappointed and a little confused because we don't feel any different afterward.

But maybe that's because the actual changes happened without our noticing, gradually.

And all of a sudden we're 22 years old, with a full-time job plus a couple of part-time gigs in which we're expected to keep order over a group of teenagers and, by some miracle, actually teach them something in the process.  Inside we're still scared children fumbling around with no idea what we're doing.

But somewhere along the way, the temperature rising too slowly for us to notice, we became grown-ups, slowly and yet all at once.

This whole weekend business isn't for the faint of heart.

I stay busy not because I have more energy or drive or motivation than the average person.

I stay busy because it staves off the sadness.

Being too busy to get lost in one's own thoughts has its psychological advantages, as does being too exhausted at the end of the day to let my restless mind get the best of me.

Why else would an introvert like me, who, to be honest, revels in silence sometimes, turn the volume all the way up and keep dialing up the YouTube videos every night until I fall asleep in the middle of one?

Times like these I'm a little scared to be alone with myself.

I'm just as self-conscious and fearful of attention as you are, you know.  Well maybe not quite as fearful, but I certainly don't enjoy being the center of attention.  I'm not at all the type to dress up like Pac-Man or the O RLY owl or Lt. Uhura, but one, it's a sci-fi convention, so something like that would cause us to stand out LESS, not more, and two, there's something about you that makes me go all silly in the head.

When I'm with you, I don't care what anyone else thinks because all that matters is you.  Whenever you suggest something crazy or ridiculous for us to do together, it sounds awesome to me because it's romantic and spontaneous and makes me all weak in the knees.

So it breaks my heart not that you didn't want to dress up as a Star Trek character, specifically, but that you didn't think it sounded fun the same way I did and that you didn't think the symbolism was romantic.  The spontaneity that delights me so when YOU suggest it just dropped to the floor with a thud, and so that was just difficult.  I just wanted to do something exciting and embarrassing and fun that I wanted to do for once, not just you...

Plus, as I said, I didn't mean those two characters specifically but rather the symbolism.  I was okay with dressing up in a yellow T-shirt with a big bow in my hair and a pearl necklace... Why was a silly uniform any different?  If that's asking too much, then I shudder to think what will happen when I really need you to do something big for me...

Just let it happen!  What are you so afraid of?

I will not be wishing my father a happy Father's Day.

They say that every man can be a father, but not every father can be a dad.  Thus, I submit that we rename the holiday Daddy's Day.  I used to have a Daddy.  Now I have only the biological organism that fathered me.  As such, I feel no obligation to thank him for his contribution.

He will give me a hard time about it; I will be demonized to everyone he talks to as the daughter who doesn't appreciate all he does for me.  And maybe that's true.  I don't appreciate that he sends me a card on Christmas and my birthday and pays for half of my medical bills (although that's court-mandated).  But I don't need his approval, and it's not like I'm not used to his criticism.  I've heard it my entire life.

And, personally, I'd rather spend time with people I actually like than avoid the criticism of my absent father.

Why am I so much happier late at night?  Is it because I am nocturnal or some such nonsense, or is there something else?

It is a fact that I have never in my life been a morning person.  Mrs. T. used to say that my circadian rhythms were just a little different from everyone else's, or something to that effect.  In fact, since my mother went to bed at midnight I have managed to crochet some towel toppers for the wedding on Saturday, clean up the kitchen, catch up on my Star Trek, and talk with several of my Athens friends.  On the other hand, I accomplished my laundry, grocery shopping and prescription filling, cleaning up the kitchen (from the day before), and undergoing the rigorous process of finding a towel topper pattern that would work during my mother's waking hours today.  But that was under duress, including unhappiness, sleepiness, and stress.

Am I really that antisocial?  No, that can't be it.  I am actually more social, conversing with many people through various means at night.  I really do feel as if I simply work better late at night.  Perhaps it's fewer distractions.

Or perhaps it's because I allow myself to do what I want when I am alone at night.  I allow myself to pursue the activities I really want to pursue, rather than forcing myself to do what my mother or anyone else wants me to.  I usually spend several hours at night watching Youtube, even during school, which I think I have justified in my mind as a means of winding down for the night, but which stretches on and on into the wee hours.

But that must be it.  Daytime is work time, nighttime is Steph time.  I feel so focused and free and able to do what I like.

That makes the reason I'm unable to sleep until six AM lately more understandable.

The smartest person I've ever met was a year behind me in school, but his best friend was in my grade.  The best friend, hereafter known as J, was not stupid, per se.  He had a flair for war history and practically made a career of witty quips designed to tear me apart at every opportunity.  He sat behind me in one of my classes my senior year, and while I slept through the class and earned a high A, his percentage at one point was in the single digits.  This was due completely to lack of effort, although I contended that one would have to exert effort in order to do so poorly.  Even guessing on every question on the tests should have netted him 25%, right?

I graduated high school second in my class, with a perfect 4.0 GPA, a support system convinced I would make something of myself in the real world, and a major scholarship which allowed me to attend the college of my dreams five hundred miles from home, tuition free.  I was on top of the world and could do no wrong.  J was entering the military, and I don't even know whether he earned his diploma.  I don't recall his presence at graduation.

Since then, I have been knocked down by life at seemingly every opportunity.  I allowed myself to feel superior--to J, to all the other students who barely graduated, to all the students with whom I'd spent all those years in Honors classes, to all the students who were accepted to my somewhat prestigious university, most of whom I dismissed as dumb jocks or "sorostitutes."  And I have paid dearly for it.  I find myself whiling away a lonely summer on the Internet, unable to find employment, an internship, or a research position, scholarship gone, boyfriend off doing exciting things without me, barely passing some of the classes which are the pillars of my major.

I ran into J on the Internet tonight.  He joined the Marines, got married about six months after we graduated, and has a beautiful baby girl.  While it may not be the career or life path I envision for myself, at the age of not quite 21 he has made something of himself, made his life matter.  He is honorably serving his country while simultaneously providing for a family, while I sit around crying to my mother about how I'll never get the job I want and making plans to go out with her for Long Island iced teas when I'm old enough.

Every step I try to take forward finds me facing yet another obstacle.  By the time I was a junior in high school I had my life all figured out.  Graduate with straight A's and go to university on scholarship, which I did, and then earn a degree in Chemistry and possibly a Master's as well in four years, all without costing my mother more than a few thousand dollars, moving on to work my way up to BSL-4 researcher with the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention in Atlanta.  I didn't need a husband or a family; my way was decided and I was going to get there.  Now none of those plans is the least bit certain, and some of them have become downright impossible.  I find myself humbled.

May I remember J next time I deign to feel superior.

About six years ago, I did time for doing my Xanga stalking at inappropriate hours.

Let the record show that, even today, www.xanga.com is not a "chat site."

I can't hold myself back just because I want others to be happy.

I have to allow myself happiness, even if I know others are sad.  I am allowed to be happy, even if the people around me are unhappy.

I have to remember that.