The Misunderstood Outcast

I am sitting here at my twin’s apartment thinking this world is confusing. I never know when to react or how to read the signs on the wall. I find that I am misunderstood most of the time and my heart has been beaten’ so much, I am unsure if it will ever truly recover.

I am so afraid of being myself that I just keep quiet and have never let my true feelings out or have let myself express myself too much. Even though, I have the gift of the gab. I find myself wondering if I will ever feel safe to let my hair down, so to speak.

I find that life is one of those mysteries and some of us get trapped in the confusion, while others just seem to know what they are doing all the time. I truly feel like those that seem to get it are really like all the rest of us who do not, they just have a better way of hiding their fears.

Are our fears truly that powerful?

I would have to say yes! I have been mistaken for my actions so much in life that I feel like I have shut down and only let a little of myself out at a time.

There are a few people in my life that I open myself up to or at least the parts that I allow them to see. There are a few people in my life that I can be completely open with but still they do not see every side of me. There is always a side of the coin hidden out of fear.

I always feel that if I put myself out there completely that only pain will come.

My problem is my impulsiveness, which always gets the best of me. I want to be liked by everyone. I guess this is because there are very few people out there that I do not like. I feel like I am very excepting of others but others are not as excepting of me.

I started this life off with extreme difficulties in trusting others. I believe that has to do with my past abuse and being the outcast at school.

I am so good at understanding the outcast side that I actually am writing a book about a girl who is sheltered in life and has always been the outcast. This book shows her fears as she lets herself come out of that shell. I really wanted to show that part. In addition, each character in the book is a piece of me.

I have recently finished chapter two but I am afraid to continue because I do not want others to hate it. I am afraid that other people will not like my work, I have already put so many hours into it, and so much of myself that it would be devastating to say the least. I have however had a few friends who have read or heard pieces of it and have said they enjoyed it.

The problem I have is how do we know when someone is being truthful and not just trying to spare our feelings. I know that the friends that I have introduced it to would be able to give their honest insight but still I am afraid that they are just being nice.

I guess this world would never truly be understood by anyone. I know I will never completely understand it. I also feel that no one will truly understand me.

The one thing I want most in this world is to be loved for who I am. I did not know what love was until I was adopted.

Now, I guess I crave it because I never really had it before I was adopted and now that I am an adult I want to taste that different kind of love. Maybe someday I might get that chance.

Hope all of you are well. May your soul be filled with peace today and each of you knows at least one type of love.

The Misunderstood Outcast,

Jalopy

P.S. I had no idea what to title this!

 

    

 

Venting Through My Writing: My Life

This is just a blog to help me get some thoughts out and I do not know if any of this will make sense to anyone but me. However, I  feel the need to talk. Right now, there are but a few people in my life that seem to understand me. I wish I could say everyone in my life understood me however; this could be farther from the truth.

All my life, I have sought out acceptance. This started from my earliest years.

I was born into this world into the darkest of places. My identical twin sister, whom has been there from the beginning, accompanied me and soon, my little sister came along to travel this life with me as well.

From the first moments I can remember, my life was filled with pain and heartache. I remember protecting my sisters from a harm that no child should know. I do not remember who brought this pain, as all I see is the shadows and darkness. I guess I just closed my eyes in hopes that it would all go away.

So what do I remember?

I remember glass falling to the ground, yelling, fighting, and hurt. I remember being hurt! I remember how that felt and how my heartached for relief. I remember always being hungry and not knowing love. I remember always trying to protect my sisters. I remember someone trying to drown my twin and me running to try to save her but I was just a child, not even three.

I remember pieces of the day that my world changed, when a wonderful mother who taught me what love was adopted me. I remember finding out what a bath was and how it did not have to be scary. I remember what if felt like to be hugged for the first time, being afraid of it, and how over time it felt nice to receive a single hug. I remember getting my ears pierced so that my adopted mother could tell my twin and myself apart. We both knew who we were but no one else did.

I remember my surprise when I had my first real glass of milk. I say real because until I was adopted I really cannot remember anytime having milk that was not full of chunks and spoiled. I remember my surprise when I found out I did not have to hide my food under my clothing and bed. I remember my adopted mother’s face when she found my twin and me with food hiding in our clothing. I remember the first day that I gained enough courage to go to the kitchen to get food, being caught, and not being punished for taking the food.

There are so many more memories but these are just a few things that I remember. The contrast before and after my adopting led to me being confused about humanity.

I found out that I did not have to hide my cries with my fist in my mouth. I found I could trust most of the people around me and therefore, I could trust the people around my sisters. I did not have to protect them anymore. However, a few people came into my life that I had to protect them from; I do not know if I allowed everything to happen or sought it out; I just know it happened.

Three people from my childhood brought more pain into my life. Two of these people were my stepsisters that I allowed because of my blood sisters. I did not want to see them hurt. Instead, I put myself in danger. Spoons and all! There was another, a man across the street. I guess that one was to protect my sisters too. I just do not know. It could have been out of habit.

All I know is when my family moved, everything changed. The whole trip was a revelation, a healing of souls. I found myself pushing potentially harmful people out of my life and saying “no”.

My adopted mother was unaware until one of my sisters finally told her when we were in our twenties. I kept it a secret from most people. A few lovers and friends have known my pain.

  When I was younger, I had a problem with my speech. I had to go through speech therapy. The only person who could understand what I was saying was my twin sister. In addition, I was told that I had learning disabilities and may never attend college.

My learning disabilities were in the language parts of my brain. In fourth grade, I found out that I not only had learning disabilities in language arts but that one of them was Dyslexia. The thought of having Dyslexia was scary. I thought well, that explains why things are flying off my papers but I also thought that just makes me more stupid. However, after several book reports on my disability I found out I was not stupid, I just learned differently and think differently.

Another struggle during my childhood years was that I was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD). ADHD explained a lot in my life such as I could never sit still and asking me to clean my room was like being in the direct line of a hurricane and asking it not to hit you. I was the hurricane.

It was not until recently that I figured out what all of this meant. It meant, my brain may perform differently from others around me but I could multitask with the best of them and I could always think outside the box, while others just attempted.

I believe my abstract mind has saved me over the years. Allowing me to take my mind to somewhere other than pain. I became a dreamer.

In my grade school years, it took a long time for my peers to understand me. I believe those that I became friends with have lasted because of our ability to connect when I was so lost. The understood me.

Even though I had trouble making friends, I was able to connect to the friends I had and make long-term connections. I am still friends with many of them today. It is funny that almost every friendship that I have created have been long-term as well as those type of connections that no matter the time that has past that we could still pick up right where we left off.

During my childhood, I have received many nicknames such as Blob 3, Little Rich Girl, Bookworm, Weirdo, Crazy Girl, Evil Twin, etc. Most of my past nicknames were not nice. It was not until I was in seventh grade that I received the nickname Evil Twin. It was significant because it was the first nickname that was not hurtful; I somehow thought it was very funny (still do) and took it in stride.

Recently, I have received the nickname Jalopy. Okay not that recent, it may have been like nine years ago, but it is still recent to me. I received this nickname on an online message board for fans of the Indigo Girls called the Indigo Vortex.

I used to enjoy posting on there and occasionally go back but nowadays I just do not have the time to visit as well as I believe that the website has closed down. Anyways there was this girl from there that was from New Zealand whose user nickname was Kiwi. Kiwi apparently did not like me, for reasons I do not know but the point is she did not like me.

One day Kiwi asked me what my first part of my handle JLP stood for because all she could think of was Jalopy (not the exact words but close enough). I replied that it stood for my birth name and signed it Jalopy. I was actually being a smartass but it turned around and kind of stuck. I felt comfortable with this nickname, as it was part of me. I guess the reason is I have always thought of myself as broken.

Okay now, you are probably thinking I am depressed beyond belief but I am not really depressed only realistic in the fact that I have had a lot of struggles in my life and the nickname sort of fit everything piled into one. It always made me smile when I heard it or saw it posted online. My son even attempts to pick on me with my online nickname.

The Vortex brought me both pain and love. I met several people on there that helped shape the years since my first login. Mamablue and her partner, Johnny Rotten, Snowbear, Sheepdog, etc. all helped to make me feel welcomed and encouraged me when I needed it. When I wrote my book, “Where Love Grows Wild” I tried to honor them as well as others who helped me feel like I could seek my dreams.

I have not always wanted to be a writer but one day I found a pile of writings during a day of spring-cleaning that I realized that I had always love to put my thoughts to words and I could actually form a thought. My problem was spelling and grammar.

I still believe English is in the eye of the beholder because I could give the same assignment to two different teachers and receive two different responses. We are not alike and grammar/spelling can vary dramatically from person to person. Anyways, I read over them and was shocked by what I had found.

When I spoke to my family about becoming a writer, I had very few people encourage me. I found most of my encouragement with my online friends, most of which were from the Vortex. However, I have always been a stubborn child!

If you were to go up to all my past teachers and ask them if they ever thought that I would attempt to write for a living they would tell you “no” in a heartbeat, especially my English teachers.

I have found writing has helped me through a lot since my twenties. I have learned how to express myself in new ways and to put down my thoughts without trying to impress anyone.

Mostly my writing has been a sort of therapy for myself but it has also been an outlet. I still to this day have people telling me that I will never make it as a writer. Maybe not but I am going to try anyways. Besides, even if I do not make a living with writing at least I have an outlet to express myself.

Writing has helped me get through many bad relationships. At first, my relationships hurt me through breakups but recently they have become more abusive. I worry because I do not want to be hurt any longer. I believe I deserve more than that, because I have already seen more pain then anyone should ever see. Hence, I want to find that place “Where Love Grows Wild”.

I am afraid that I will never find that special kind of love. I do not feel like I am asking a lot from this world. I just want to one day find comfort and feel safe.

Right now, I do not feel safe, my last ex, helped to add to this and has placed death threats on my entire family. Therefore, it is hard for me to feel safe. I have seen too much pain, I should at least be able to feel safe, but this is something that eludes me at the moment. I want my next relationship not to be painful or abusive.

I guess it is hard for me to trust people because of my past but it is even harder when you are hibernating year round. If you have read my other post, you will know I have Polysymptomatic Idiopathic Hypersomnia. Unlike a bear that hibernates just in the winter, I hibernate throughout the year. I have been told I could sleep up to several months. However, I have only slept a little over 72 hours.

Yes, that is three days straight. Now, I may have slept walked to the restroom or kitchen but I have no recollection of this. Actually, the first day I discovered I had a real problem on my hands was after this first massive hibernation period. Before, I just thought I was a heavy sleeper but this changed things.

I have been through several sleep studies and not until recently did I find something that would help. A friend of mine pointed me to a website where I found out that when I dropped my ADHD at eighteen that my Idiopathic Hypersomnia was no longer being treated. In order to get my life back on track, I would have to get back on my medications along with something for Narcolepsy called Provigil.

I know my sleep disorder has affected my life dramatically; I cannot pinpoint every piece, as it would take longer than this blog. However, I can say that I have lost friends and family member’s respect.

I have very few people in my life that truly understand and even the ones who say they understand may not truly understand. I have had a lot of heartache because of my sleep disorder and truth be told my identical twin and others who suffer from Idiopathic Hypersomnia are the only ones who truly understand.

I know that my sleep disorder has also affected me financially as I have seen all my peers pass me by and it is hard to watch everyone around you making it as you are drowning. Yes, I said drowning. Financially, I am a mess. Since, I was eighteen; I have been trying not to stumble back down. Every time I think this is it, I am finally going to make it out of this hole but something always happens and I fall right back down again.

When I was younger, I was the smart girl, bright but disabled. I did not let my disabilities stop me from learning. I really enjoyed learning. I was the girl already finished with her homework before she got home. However, if it came to reading and writing, I was still working on that one. Math was my strong point except for Geometry.

My friends and family thought, she is going to make it. My family was proud of me but now they are not. I actually feel like I am the outcast within my own family. Now my family will tell you that they have not outcasted me. However, this would be far from the way I feel about it.

One prime example is with my service dog, Nova (NI-O-WE-a). Recently after finding out how to help treat my issues with my sleep (not cure), I found out I could register my own animal as a service dog and as long as she perform at least one of her task as a service animal I could take her out into the general public.

Even though I can take Nova to Wal-Mart, HEB, Walgreens, McDonalds, Jim’s, the courthouse, etc. I could not take her to my mothers’ without sticking her outside. While this is okay some of the time, it is not always okay with me.

In Texas, the weather is too hot or too cold for Nova to be out there all the time! In addition, even though I can stick Nova outside, I still receive a lecture about my dog being there, in some form or fashion.

My son also does not understand why he cannot live with his mommy. I want him to live with me. I want to be a mother to him again. It is not that I am not his mother nor that I have not tried to be a mother. It is that I have not been able to be trusted to one, get up and two, have the finances to support him.

However, when I am around him, I tend to get up more often as well as easier than with any other form of wake-up technique; I guess this would be because of my motherly instinct.

I am having enough trouble supporting myself and I am constantly failing at that. This very fact eats me up every moment of every day but how do you tell an eleven-year-old child the whole truth and have them comprehend it all, when all they want is their mother around.

My whole life, I have had doubts about everything. I am unsure if I will ever be financially able to support myself. I am unsure if I can have a healthy relationship and finally feel safe. I am not sure if I will ever find happiness at all. I feel like I started life as an outcast and will continue to be an outcast the rest of my life and it is sad that I have excepted this as part of my life but with my past it is hard not to.

I have never felt comfortable in my own skin. I have always felt like I should be someone else, born in some other time. I have never felt like I belonged in this time and this place. I have always said I was born too late but sometimes I think I may have been born too early. However, I do lean towards being born too late.

I truly believe, if I had been born earlier I might have made more of myself but maybe that is just a dream, one can never tell.

I have always been told I have the biggest of hearts, which I truly believe that is true. However, I know I wear it on my shoulder and I think that is why it is always being crushed. I truly feel like my heart and mind are being wasted in this life of mine. I am hoping that this will all change soon.

I am now working as an Independent Contractor on oDesk and I am a Tutor on WyzAnt. I believe both of these jobs allow me to use some of my talents. Even if I am not using all of my talents, at least I am using some of them.

I am still looking for someone who can help me put my words to songs. I recorded some of them onto a CD but they need to be changed a little and there is no music other than the sound of my voice on them.

I recorded them on a crappy computer with Windows NT or 95 on it. In addition, the microphone broke a few days later. Nice, right! That does explain why I had to keep recording them to get my voice to pick up!

I would love to have a violin again as well as someday learn the guitar. I still have not learned it but my son has. I am hoping to one day be able to afford to buy them without having to worry about having to pawn them to make rent.

Actually, I would rather be homeless with a violin then to sale one again. Once, I was a very good violinist but my hands have stiffened up since then so that kind of makes me, a little worried about playing again but I still want to try.

Music has been a great part of my life. I enjoy it so much because it can take me to places no book or television show can. Yes, I still am a fan of them but music seems to move me more.

A friend of mine told me that when she rests her voice, she has to stop listening to music and if she hears it, she needs to turn it off. I thought this was strange, why would you do that? Well, she answered that question, she said, that when music plays, no matter the type or volume, that our human vocal cords try to emulate and actually respond in vibration to the music itself.

This makes a whole lot of sense to me and if you think about it, if our bodies actually respond to music that much, it is no wonder why I am so passionate about music. I cannot get enough of it! My tastes are so wide-ranging and I can listen to most anything.

Well, now that I have posted this much, I guess I need to edit and post. Maybe my next post will not be so long. I guess it has just been one of those days were I have to talk and let everything out. I hope each of my readers is safe and happy. Peace to all of you and may Mother Nature be your guide!