Sunday, November 16, 2014

Life, and Other Messy Things (Part 1)

I've been thinking about life a lot lately. I'm not sure why, I think that it's part of growing up. I'm watching the world around me, while I'm frozen in some sort syrup, struggling to keep up with everyone else.

This is the story of my life and other messy things. And while it is strange that people I barely know might read this, and so might my closest friends, I hope that whoever you are, my journey touches and helps you in some way.

I woke up one morning before a mock exam a few months ago, and went what am I even doing with my life? Why am I doing this?

The story behind this seemly out-of-the-blue thought:

I've always struggled with my emotions and I'm even worse at expressing them. It's an INTJ thing, and it's been the thorn in my side for as long as I can remmember. When I am angry, I can smile like there is nothing wrong. When someone upsets me, my expression will not change.

Because I constantly have a poker face on, I have spent much of my teenage (and younger) years observing the others my age, which breed a bad habit of me constantly comparing myself to others. This started to concern me in the middle of 2013, and I have been working to change it ever since.

It's been a hard, and almost completely private journey because I live in my head. Where did this start, this comparing myself to others? Why did it start? When did it start? Why did I do it?

When I was 9, I lost my grandfather, my mothers father. It was my first real touch with death, and even then I hid my feelings, telling myself not to cry, because I was the strong one out of my sister and I. I was old enough to remember him, and not quite old enough to understand how people could just leave like that. It was the first time I felt out of control in a situation, and I came away confused.

When I was 10, my life changed for forever. I went into the hospital for a seemingly routine cheek up on my kidneys and came out booked in to the the children's ward for the next night. Normal tests, the doctor called them, don't panic he told my mother, don't worry, not coming in tonight shouldn't change anything. But as my little legs struggled to keep up with my mothers as we left the hospital, I could tell that whatever was happening, it was not all right. I had lost control again.

One week later I had accepted my type one diabetes and calmly injected my insulin, the girl who screamed and had to be held down in the hospital for her first injection was gone. My mother cried when we found out, I watched with almost fascinated curiosity, it didn't sound to bad. I was still to young to grasp the finality of it.

When I went back to school, I was different. I always had been, I came from a Christian family, something the other kids at my small country school couldn't fully accept. This was a different type of different, one where I got to eat in class and teachers made calls home about injections. I hid what I felt again, just smiled and secretly hated every second of it.

I did not attend intermediate with my class mates, instead I was withdrawn from school, and I began homeschooling, and to me at the time, it was just another way of diabetes controlling my life. It was another sign of my differences, this different way of being schooled.

What I didn't know was that it was working out, this change at the end of a long list of changes. I was about to meet my best friend, learn some things about life, become stronger in who I am, and what I believe.

"I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference."


  1. Here is my word: Wow. It's hard to think of what else to say, but here's another: Congratulations. You posted something deep. And occasionally deep is pretty scary. I'm an ISTJ, so we're in the same emotional boat, I'm afraid (and I live with two INTJs, so I'm even familiar with your type) and I know that the life in your head is a constant separation from the life in your eyes. Your description of handling your grandfather's death and learning of your Type 1 Diabetes kind of hit me, because I think I might have acted the same way: a week later, no more tears. And it also makes me think, because if you hadn't shared it, we wouldn't have known. It makes the Internet a good hiding place. *shrugs* YOU HAVE PUT SO MANY THOUGHTS INTO MY HEAD AND I HAVEN'T EVEN EATEN BREAKFAST YET. I'll go change that. Regardless: wow and congratulations. You just wrote an amazing post.

  2. one simple word: speechless. i can't even begin to imagine the guts you'd have to write such a deep post. this was really thought-provoking and profound, girl, keep it up :) same as heather: amazing.

  3. Aww bestie your so amazing :) Being an INTJ is a blessing and a curse, but we are who we are, don't change for anybody, because your perfect just the way you are