5 | The Beginning

Like I said in my third blog post, I’m going to tell you about myself up to where we are now.  It’s a rather long story, so bear with me.

My mom and dad got married in the mid-1980’s; my mom was a junior in high school, and my dad was in college.  They’re both from the same hometown (now about 18,000 people), and both of their parents owned small businesses in the community.  My mom had two sisters (both already married), and my dad had a sister (in late middle school) and a brother (a college graduate working in retail).  Even though both of my parents’ parents were still married, my dad’s parents were estranged; my grandfather used to be an abusive alcoholic, and so they slept in separate bedrooms.

I don’t know a whole lot about my parents’ married life prior to when I was born, but I do know that my mom and dad finished their respective schooling, my dad got a corporate business job, and they moved a couple of states away.  My mom was unhappy living apart from her parents and sisters, but my dad was making decent money.  She stayed.  That was when I was born.

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3 | Fear

Some of you know my name and my face because I shared this blog with you through my personal Facebook account.  (I didn’t share with any of my family members, however, so I kindly ask that you NOT share this blog with them if you know any of them.)  A few of you have no idea who I am.  None of you know the entire person that is me—my past, my thoughts, my dreams, my true self.  You may know a bit of my background from my first blog post and my “About” pages, but you don’t know the whole story.  You’ll get a better idea of who I am as I continue blogging, but unless you know me personally, you will never know my real name or what I look like.


Because I’m scared.

Fear has slowly overtaken my life, little by little.  It’s why I didn’t tell my previous employer that I suffered from mental illnesses.  I pretended that I was okay because I needed the job and the insurance, and I didn’t want any preexisting conditions getting in the way of that.  It’s why I took sick days for physical sicknesses I didn’t have, exhausted from literally acting like someone else each day so that none of my students or coworkers could see the struggling person inside.  Fake it ’til you make it, I thought; that’s what one of my professors had said.  But I didn’t make it.

I guess fear is a side effect of losing the trust of those whom you love.  Once that’s happened so many times, it’s difficult to let anyone in.  For that reason, very few people know enough about me to understand why I struggle each day, and even then I feel unable to talk freely about certain things.  So, I guess it’s safe to say that no one really knows the “real” me.

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