Author: Cristina Gonzalez
A VP of color: why Kamala Harris matters
To the ex that was almost my forever: I love you always
To the ex that was almost my forever: I love you always
“I had all and then most of you
Some and now none of you
Take me back to the night we met
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do
Haunted by the ghost of you
Oh, take me back to the night we met”
I think everyone who has ever been in a relationship has encountered one that didn’t quite work out the way they wanted it to. Things that tend to end those sort of “could be forever” relationships are often intangible things like timing, age difference, or being still affected by previous toxic relationships. But what do you do when you so desperately want that person back and they don’t requite your love? How do you cope with a premature ending to something that could have lasted a lifetime? I honestly don’t know the answers to these hard questions, but in exploring what happened with the most significant relationship I have ever had, I hope to find some clarity.
It took me nearly 29 years of my life to realize that I was gay. Unlike what I stated in one of my previous articles, I am not bisexual (mainly because I just cannot with men anymore) but just purely gay. I had notions that I was from high school on. I definitely had myriad women crushes and women that I claimed I would switch teams for. However, I never really thought that I would ever end up dating women.
My first and only relationship with a woman began almost as quickly as it ended. And to be honest, I am still head over heels in love with her. Because modern dating is literally the weirdest thing I have heretofore encountered, I got on online dating sites once I took interest in dating women. That is where her and I first matched, on Tinder. She is a decade younger than me, but has an emotional and mental maturity that is well beyond her years (and was often above mine). We spent weeks conversing back and forth via Snapchat, talking pretty much every day.
I had just gotten over my last toxic relationship with a man when she and I started talking. It was the purest feeling of attraction I have ever felt. There was just something about her that I felt so connected to so quickly. I think it was honestly just so refreshing to intelligently talk to someone about important topics such as books, politics, worldly issues, relationships, mental health, music, and personal issues. My previous relationships often avoided having deep discussions or conversations about hard to broach subjects. And to be honest as fuck, that bored the ever living hell out of me.
I have always told people that I am first physically attracted to someone. But if we cannot connect mentally and emotionally, it isn’t for me; I lose interest really quick and tend to ghost (I know, I am awful). With her, it just organically happened. I fell for her shockingly beautiful exterior, but her electric soul is what made her infinitely more attractive to me. I don’t know if everyone has had this lovely sort of déjà vu feeling that you have known someone for much longer than time can tell or that you must have met in a previous lifetime, but it was the sort of connection that lit a fire in my heart, soul, and mind that has yet to be extinguished.
Things were perfect (until they weren’t). From the first night we met and spent together, I knew there was a reason this woman was in my life. I felt instantly connected to her unlike any person I have ever met. I can’t quite place my finger on it, besides referencing Greek mythology. In one myth, the Greeks claim that at birth, your soul is split into two, and finds its way into another person. This person is literally your soul mate. The tragic part of it, is that you must spend your life wandering the Earth searching relentlessly for your other half. She is my other half, even if she may not reciprocate those feelings.
The first month and a half or so was perfect. We spent nearly every waking minute together. I honestly don’t think I laughed to the point of tears so much as when I was spending time with her. We just had this effortless love that reinvigorated me. I could literally talk to her about anything without feeling judged. Not only was she an amazingly compassionate listener, but her ability to assess situations and provide feedback was on a whole other level.
I felt remiss any minute I spent away from her, waking up extra early, hoping she was up too so that I could talk to her again. Every night I went to bed with her in my arms and woke up next to her was the greatest night of my life. I would awake in a stupor, shocked than this was real life, pinching myself hoping that this wasn’t just some very involved dream. I was on cloud nine, unlike any relationship I had ever been in.
And then, as quickly as things ignited, they faded into the abyss. I am honestly still confused as to what exactly happened. I think a large part is the age difference and gaps in life experiences as a result (my counselor says that the statistics for relationships working out for age differences greater than 5 years are slim). I think too that she became disengaged as a result of some negative habits I started to fall back into as well.
But mostly, I think when you are young and inexperienced in healthy relationships, you often look for ways to hit the eject button out of fear. I had the same experience and feelings at that age. I looked for any reason to not get into a relationship with someone because I was so scared of what would happen if it didn’t work out. I sabotaged potential happiness all for hypothetical what if’s.
As I got older though, and had more relationships experiences, I realized something: you will never find a partner that you are 100% compatible with. People are so apt to think that relationships will be 50/50 or damn near close all the time. In my experience, that is rarely ever the case. They are more often skewed in the direction of the partner that needs the most for that season. And it took me until recently to realize that that is ok and normal.
You are not always going to see eye to eye on issues. You will not always understand where your partner is coming from because you have had different life experiences as separate entities. But what makes a relationship work is love, understanding, compassion, passion, nonjudgmental listening, and effort. Communication is vital for any relationship to not only blossom, but to also thrive through adversity.
I have no ill will at all towards her for this. I have been there before. I was that person too at that age. But I will say this to her: you will always be the one that I want. No amount of time or distance will extinguish the fire you lit in me. No one will understand me or want to know me the way you did those 2 months. I am forever grateful for you. I will always love and cherish you with all my heart. I don’t know what the future holds, but I hope like hell we can cross paths again. And maybe I will be different and maybe you will be too and maybe I will be better and whole and love myself as much as I love you.
To the ex that I will always love:
I want you more than you will ever know. From the minute I kissed you, I was done. I was done looking for anyone else. I was done not loving myself. I was done with the insecurities, the chameleon personality, trying to become who the other person wanted me to be. You allowed me to be myself. To become the best version of me. You gave me the courage and love to look inward and find the 10 year old girl that got lost along the way. But something happened on the way there. I don’t quite understand what, but the tortuous road back to myself got so convoluted. I went back to old habits and stopped eing the me you and I loved. And for that I am forever sorry. I just want you to know, I am trying to find her again. It hasn’t been easy without you. You are my person to me still, even if I am not yours. You’re the first person on my mind when anything in life happens. Good, bad, stupid, silly. I see your face and hear your voice and think, “I gotta tell her!” And the text I start to type out gets deleted, lost among things I will never get to say to you, conversations that will never be had but in my mind. And it hurts like hell. I’d rather dislocate my hip a trillion times than to feel this emotional and mental anguish. I wish I could go back and undo so many things. But time has a way of only moving forward and never looking back. With time, maybe things will heal and feel better. But to be honest, I don’t think time will tell. Not amount of time away from you is ok to me. No amount of distance, whether physical or emotional will ever feel right. I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once. And darling, I’ve not stopped the free fall since that day; I just finally hit the ground.
Loving myself before I can love another: a tale of relationships gone wrong
In my early days of writing, I was told to captivate the audience with an amazing opening quote, hook, line, etc. Well, there is nothing more eye-catching to me today than an opening quote by the brilliant professor, Brenè Brown : “We cultivate love when we allow our most vulnerable and powerful selves to be deeply seen and known, and when we honor the spiritual connection that grows from that offering with trust, respect, kindness and affection. Love is not something we give or get; it is something that we nurture and grow, a connection that can only be cultivated between two people when it exists within each one of them – we can only love others as much as we love ourselves…”
In the weening days since an unforeseen heartbreak, I have done a lot of introspection (and listening/reading Brenè Brown to be quite frank). I have looked back at all of my relationships and tried to pinpoint the common denominator in the aftermath (besides me that is). I have been racking my brain trying to find some sort of commonalities that tie into each and every romantic relationship in which I have had to find some sort of exactitudes to explain my losses.
Sorry Mom, I love a woman
After I fell in love with myself, I fell in love with a woman
If you have followed any of my writing, you know that I have only had toxic relationships. After my last romantic mishap, I swore to myself that I would never fall in love again. One thing I do know is that I am almost ALWAYS wrong about that. Each relationship I have had has come off a very rough period in my life. Usually, I was looking for any sort of human affection. Just desperate to have someone in my life to distract me from the emotional, mental, and spiritual turmoil of my life. And to be honest, I found what I saw in myself at those times.
I think the major difference after the realization that my last relationship was just as fucked up as the rest, I did something very differently: I decided to love myself. I started to do things that I neglected in past relationships that I enjoyed. Mainly, I began writing again. Writing became an escape for me, a cathartic way to express things I never got to say when I was so busy blaming myself for all the things that went wrong.
Looking back, I was so willing to accept fault, even when it was not mine, and over empathize to coerce my partner that I was contrite for my words, actions, reactions, etc. I would suppress my anger and my indignation at the hypocrisies in those relationships, being crucified for things I was willing to forgive in them, looking the other way when I was done wrong or lied to. And I genuinely thought that was love.
After much self-introspection, a scathing tell-all article, and the self-realization that I was bisexual, I’ve never felt more myself. I didn’t think I could ever come back to the woman I was before my mental health took a drastic change for the worse. Never did I imagine that I would come back to the self-confident, loving, kind, caring, smartass bitch I once was in high school, the woman that was immune to other’s opinions if she didn’t truly care about them. And I am sure that A LOT of people hated her, but in all honesty, they were not people I even had cross my mind.
Out of my own personal self-destruction, self-loathing, and animosity towards myself, came the best thing I have heretofore experienced: self-love, acceptance, and true love. I met my current girlfriend not that long ago. We had been talking for weeks before we finally met up and each time I saw her name pop up on my phone, I couldn’t help but smile like an idiot. We could literally talk about anything. Music, politics, movies, quotes, love, relationships, mental health, you name it, and we had it in common.
I have never just fallen in love in such a pure way. Usually, it has been a long process, filled with doubts, near breakups, ignored red flags, family and friend apprehension, bolstered stories of chivalry and commonality, and several arguments. However, this time, none of those indecencies were present. From the minute I met her, my heart just kind of said “Oh, there you are. All of these atrocities, all of these heartbreaks, heartaches, botched suicide attempts, and insecurities were leading me to you.”
When we finally met, I had this feeling of never wanting to stop meeting her. That I just wanted each and every day to wake up next to her, rubbing my eyes in awe that this was real life. Every moment we spent together, I kept thinking that I was in a very lucid dream. I was fearful that I was going to wake up and it was all just some elaborate ruse.
Right now, I am watching her watch her favorite movie, and my heart couldn’t be fuller. The way she loves my dog like he is her own endears her to me even more. And just when I don’t think I could love her more than I already do, she does something that, as Holden Caufield would say, “really knocks my socks off.” It isn’t always something extraordinary like her uncanny ability to quote Napoleon Dynamite or nail every word to some elaborate rap song. Sometimes it is just the simplest of things, like how she looks at me when I make a dumbass joke; or how she dances almost exclusively with her hands; or her facial expressions when she shows me a song she loves and knows I will like; how she always just lets her dishes “soak”; how she used to look away in awkwardness when I would look her directly in the eyes too long.
But really, what got me hooked? It was the feeling that I had known this woman for all of my life. It is the simplicity and ease with which we converse and find commonality. She is always willing to listen to my ideas on politics, the world, books, whatever it is. She is interested in knowing me to my core, even the parts I wish I could bury and suffocate. I tell her something I am not proud of, and she just listens intently without judgement. And then she will do some amazing shit like understand and empathize or sympathize.
Never in my life have I experienced a relationship that has meant so much to me so quickly. I am very unwilling to be vulnerable up front. I have been burned in the past and built strongholds around my heart to deter anyone that came knocking. With her though? I decimated those walls myself because I didn’t want to do anything to keep her from coming in.
I guess that is actually how love is supposed to be. It is a give and a take, but in its simplest form it should be unselfish and omnipotent. When I am with her, nothing else exists. Time flows in an ethereal fashion, I am sore from laughing and smiling so much, and I am pleasantly detached from the negativity of the world that used to bog me down. She makes me better period. She challenges me in ways I have never experienced. And the best part of it? When she says she loves me, I don’t question it for a second because her actions and words always align. I am thankful for her every day, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life unraveling her layers.
To My Toxic Ex: Your Repression Liberated Me
PSA: I am about to put my ex on blast.
I will not name names or even use fake ones, initials, or any other way to refer to him but as my toxic ex. If you or your family ever read this (you know who you are), which I highly doubt, this is MY truth. Welcome to my TED talk on toxic conservatism bolstered by narrow minded Christianity. What follows is my side of a toxic 15 month relationship with a man I thought I would end up marrying and how it liberated me so I could live out my life being my authentic self.
I did not honestly start having relationships with men or wanting them until I was college age. I guess I started noticing and getting noticed more by the opposite sex in high school. My older brother and younger sister were all in high school at the same time (he is two years older than me and she is 15 months younger than me). We all had our “thing” or epithets in high school that we lived up to and were known for. My brother was the cross country star, I was the dual cross country and soccer player/smart one, and my sister was the more popular, social butterfly known for her looks and style.
I guess once guys started noticing that I was moderately attractive in high school, I didn’t necessarily know how to take it. I was more concerned with my academics and performing in varsity sports. I had only one boyfriend in high school to be honest. He was in my friend group and we dated for 3 months before I got really annoyed with him and broke it off. I had a few guys ask me out or try to date me in high school.
I would go on dates, but usually would end up just wanting to be friends with them because they’d go stage 5 clinger really quick and I did not have the time for that sort of neediness and insecurity. I was very self-assured and self-confident and 100% did not need a guy to make me happy.
If you have read any excerpts from my upcoming book, you will be aware of my deep seeded issues with seeking approval from male figures that held a significant part in my life. That started with my dad. My dad is an amazing father and role model. I always have admired his work ethic, drive, ingenuity, intelligence, and how he has provided for our family. I have always looked up to him for that and strived to receive his approval for my accomplishments. However, no matter what I accomplished, I never felt that he was proud of me. I bring this up because, psychologically speaking, women tend to seek men that resemble (not physically usually) their fathers. Thus began my toxic relationships with men.
The first boyfriend I had turned out to be a complete loser. Long story short, we dated two years in total. We moved to Mckinney, Texas after I graduated pharmacy school for a job offer I had accepted. Well, to be VERY generous and kind here, he was a lazy, entitled piece of shit. I learned very quickly upon moving in with him that he was ok with riding my coattails because I made a very good 6 figured salary.
To him, that meant it was ok for me to work 10 hour days plus extra shifts while I was studying for my boards to get fully licensed as a pharmacist, do the chores around the house, pay for our dates, going out, etc. without him ever lifting a goddamn finger or offering to help. He was in between jobs the entire year we lived together because he thought his lazy ass was worth double the salary he was being offered. And I say this in with the most disdain and callousness in my voice: YOUR SELF-PERCEIVED CHARM AND PEOPLE SKILLS DO NOT MAKE UP FOR ZERO JOB EXPERIENCE.
A Good Playlist is About the Rise: How To Build Your Summer Playlist
If you have ever seen the iconic TV series, How I Met Your Mother, you know Neil Patrick Harris’ character, Barney Stinson. One episode, on New Year’s Eve, the gang is determined to find the perfect NYC party. Well, we all know that you got to pre-game and get into the mood for the ultimate party night. At one point, Stinson claims that the best playlist is all about the rise, which is followed by him blasting Bon Jovi’s “You Give Love a Bad Name.” Well, I agree to an extent with him. The rise is very important, but so too is the nostalgia. I am also a huge sucker for a solid bass line.
For me, summer is a state of mind. It is about the pool, beach, tans, sunscreen smells, and being outdoors. Rolling the windows down in the evening as the sun sets, blasting your favorite tunes, and singing at the top of your lungs. However, there is absolutely not just one genre that fits the summer mindset. SoPSA: if you do not believe that the Ying Yang Twins, the Jonas Brothers, Tom Petty, and Marilyn Manson deserve to be on the same playlist without skipping a beat, move on (and you have 0 taste and range in music). Side note: although I am an Okie, I absolutely DO NOT condone country music on any of my playlists (one exception: Old Town Road with Lil’ Nas). If you really want to hear a grown man bitching about his girl, drinking beer, or riding a tractor, look elsewhere.
For my playlist I have a large variety of music that really starts from my peaked interest and introduction to solid music back in high school circa 2005. That was the time I attended my very first concert (Ben Kweller) and was blown away by all the amazing music I had been missing. After that, I really got into the alternative rock scene. I always relied on my high school friend, Jenny, to expose me to the newest, coolest scene music. That is when I got introduced to bands like The Strokes (still an all-time favorite), The Shins, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Tokyo Police Club, Ben Kweller and more. As I got older though, l compartmentalized my music to fit the specific mood I was in. So my Spotify has several playlists that have only a few genres that are very similar to each other. However, summer tunes mean you have to have the ability jump from different decades, starting in the 1970’s.
My tastes are deeply rooted in alternative rock. Some favorite bands of mine are: The Strokes, The Shins, Spoon, The Red HotChili Peppers, Regina Spektor, The New Pornographers, and Ben Kweller (he still hits). However, I do not believe that you can make a playlist to fit a whole season that only has one genre. My Summer Playlist includes: alternative rock, including the bands mentioned above plus more; classic rock, featuring Tom Petty and Smashing Pumpkins; rap with artists like Nelly (my love from middle school), A$AP Rocky, Kendrick Lamar, Jay-Z, TI; hip hop that has to include Usher, Beyonce, and Destiny’s Child; grunge rock that obviously includes bands like The Offspring, Green Day, Sum 41, and Nirvana; and more modern artists, not excluding Ariana Grande, The Jonas Brothers (far removed from their virginity ring days and the sway of the Disney channel), Selena Gomez, Justin Bieber, and Billie Eilish.
I am going to be bold and say that the best bass line on my playlist, since that is super important to me (and to be honest should be to you too), is “Dance, Dance” by Fallout Boy. That is closely followed by “Only” by Nikki Minaj, Drake, and Lil’ Wayne. If you are easily offended by profanities or sexual content, I STRONGLY suggest you do not listen to my playlist either. I do not mess with bleeped out lyrics or tame content.
My by far favorite band right now (and newly rediscovered) is The Offspring. You can literally blast any of their hard hitting songs any day of the week and wish to God you knew all the lyrics so you can belt it out rolling down the highway. However, a solid rap song hits just as hard. On my playlist I strongly suggest throwing it back to the 90’s rap scene and cranking up “I Got 5 On It.” To be utterly honest I have NO clue what that means (probably drug or gang related), but I will nail every word to it while the speakers shake in my truck.
If you are more into the modern music scene (aka chart hits), you can never go wrong with Ariana, Drake, Selena, or Demi Lovato. I will suggest though, if you are all about music that will make you want to get up and dance or party, you will really want to look into the DJ Marshmallow. Think along the lines of a Daft Punk meets rap meets Halsey (who is also at the top of my charts for bangers).
The perfect playlist is honestly a myth. Even though I created one for the sake of this article (and my own personal use), you can never stop adding on or introducing new genres and artists. It is all about the feel of it.
Cathartic Relief Through Pain: The Addictive Nature of Tattoos
Addiction comes in many forms. One of my many addictions started at the age of 19. I had honestly never thought I was the type of person to get a tattoo or piercings beyond my lobes. I got my ears first pierced when I was young because that was what was cool to do in the ‘90s as a girl, but it wasn’t until about 14 years later that any other type of body alterations crossed my mind. My mom was the first one in our family to get a tattoo as a matter of fact. When I was 10 and my family and I were in Dallas for a soccer tournament for my club team, she got a lower back tattoo of a butterfly. Me, my siblings, and teammates thought it was the coolest thing ever. But not even then did I think that I would want one on my body. The permanence of it kind of scared me.
Flash forward about 9 years. One of my good high school friends got her first tattoo her freshman year of college. I thought it looked pretty awesome, so I started considering it myself. And I knew whatever I got, it had to be original. I did not want to copy anyone else’s ideas or tattoos. Bear in mind, I was a lot more religious at the time (Roman Catholic). I had also just been introduced to the Cult Classic, Boondock Saints. If you haven’t seen it, two Irish Catholic brothers start killing bad guys in Boston. Before they pull the trigger, they utter a prayer that ends with a Latin pharase “Patris filli, spiritus sancti,” which translates to “father, son, and holy spirit.” Although I don’t condone cold blooded murder, I wanted to represent my love for the movie and my Catholic upbringing. So I got a Celtic cross with that Latin phrase wrapped around it.
I was told by the artist after it was done, that tattoos are addicting, so I probably wouldn’t stop at just one. Well, his prophecy came true about one year later. I was back at the tattoo shop with my second idea. I am a HUGE Harry Potter fan. If there was a way to emphasize it more than just capitalizing the word “huge” I would. While I was struggling with a very deep depression phase, I read and re read the whole series. I felt that I could identify with some of the major themes in them, especially about loss and purpose. In a lot of ways, those books saved my life; so, my second tattoo honored that. I got the Deathly Hallows symbol tattooed on the top of my left foot. In the books, it represents the combining of three objects, that in conjunction, make one the master of death. For me, it was to pay homage to the books that helped saved me from drastic measures.
My third tattoo, which came about one year later, was a set of map coordinates. I had an older sister, my parent’s first born child, that passed away shortly after birth. Oftentimes, I would wonder what she was like. If she would have been like me, my brother, my sister, etc. How I wish I could have her here and healthy. In order to remind myself of the sister I never knew, I had her grave coordinates tattooed on my left hip. This way, I feel, that a part of her is always with me.
I tend to heal mentally and emotionally much better when I can read something that resonates with me. I have always loved to write and read because words can just hit you in ways a lot of things can’t. As a result, I have three quotes tattooed on me: two rib quotes and an inner right arm quote. The inner arm quote reads: “Where your treasure is, there will your heart also be.” This is actually a biblical quote that was used by JK Rowling in the Harry Potter series as a quote on a grave. For me, that is about pursuing things I love in life and not allowing extraneous stuff to interfere with my happiness. Similarly, my left rib quote, says “find what you love and let it kill you.” That is a Charles Bukowski quote that I have just always loved. It fits within the same theme of the inner arm quote and reminds me of what is important in life. My right rib quote is a song lyric by the band Spoon that reads “I’ll bring you cover when you’re cold, you’ll bring me youth when I grow old.” That was really just a line from my favorite song that always resonated with me and I got during a really traumatic on and off again relationship with a narcissist.
A few years later, after I graduated pharmacy school and moved to Mckinney, Texas, the only grandparent that I ever really knew and was close with, my grandma, started getting sick. I was terrified because I knew things were going downhill slowly. She was beginning to have signs and symptoms of Alzheimer’s. I was afraid that the next time I saw her, she wouldn’t remember me. After I finally got the courage to go see her, the dire nature of my denial was made readily apparent. I felt extremely guilty and cowardly. Shortly before she passed away, I got a tattoo of an elephant on my right outer thigh. That was always her favorite animal, because they never forget. It seemed like the perfect way to remember her, getting her favorite animal with impeccable memory tattooed on me since hers failed her at the end of her life.
About a year later, I went to NYC on vacation. I had been brainstorming a half sleeve idea for about 6 months at the time (another Harry Potter related idea). The whole idea was going to be about 7-8 hours of work. So I scheduled one half on my summer trip to NYC in 2016. There are two scenes from the movie “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part One,” that I drew from. The story centers around the tale of the three brothers, in which three wizard brothers come across a river with no bridge. So they conjure a bridge to cross to the other side. Well, Death feels cheated because normally travelers drown trying to cross the river, so he makes a deal with them. He promises them each one gift for outsmarting him.
The first scene of my half sleeve depicts the three brothers meeting death at the bridge with the first line of the story “There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely winding road at twilight.” The second half shows the third brother, the most humble of the three, parting ways with his gift from Death, (an invisibility cloak that made it impossible for Death to find him) and giving it to his son as Death takes him away. I think for me, the theme of being unafraid of the unknown comes into play here. Not fearing what you cannot control and not allowing the fear of the unknown deter you from life. It is worth mentioning too that the artist that completed the first half passed away tragically in between finishing my first half and my next session. His partner at the shop did the second half for me. It just really makes this tattoo even more special to me because of that tattoo artist and being honored to be one of the last few handfuls of people that he tattooed.
My final piece is the only one on my body that does not have any real meaning behind it. It is of a mandala and a rose. Truly, I just loved the aesthetic of it and how clean the lines on it looked. I plan on making it into a half sleeve in the near future. It is the only tattoo that I have that goes deep enough that I can physically feel the lines. It reminds me of the simple beauty there can be in life if you just pay attention.
A Fine Line Between Love And Hate
There is a fine line between love and hate.
They occupy very near proximity areas in the brain, actually. But the opinion Coach Compton had of me went beyond basic dichotomous emotions; I experienced pure, raw fear and anxiety at not being able to live up to expectations. At this point in my life, it had become obvious that my self-worth was reflected in my performance academically and competitively.
I was selected for the best team in Oklahoma and one of the premier teams in the nation stroked the ego of needing to be the best and exceed expectations.
However, along with it came undue stress that I cannot even begin to describe.
In recreational soccer, most kids play just for fun. I would say less than half of them end up playing competitively because of the costs, travel, time commitment, and lack of skill. Competitive soccer is a whole different beast.
Granted, we were ten, but the experience that I am about to tell will shock and utterly dismay most people who have children.
After the team had been selected, Coach Compton took no time in establishing what sort of team this would be. One of the very first team oriented activities we did was to go to a local college where he coached and have a week long training camp with our new teammates and several older teams from the same club. I remember the day I came home from that camp; I collapsed on the floor and just began to cry like I had never cried before.
The Chaos Continued, So Did Soccer… And Sonya
Even when I was able to claim academic success over her, my accomplishments were immediately diminished.
Scoring higher on homework, a quiz, or a test was chalked up to luck. Or there would be some other sort of explanation as to why I edged her out like she forgot about it and didn’t study much. Even when I was faced with something I thought I could be proud of myself for, I had external influences telling me that I still wasn’t meeting some unattainable standard. I think I always set the bar for myself at an unreachable level. But it seemed to be inched even further out of reach with each experience of inferiority.
This seem to set off an internal dialogue that I still struggle with today: if you’re not first, you’re unimportant.
I could rephrase this several ways since not everything can be broken down into first place, second place, etc. but the idea of not being the best became abhorrent. And I could not emotionally handle failure to any extent; I would break down at home because I once again got edged out on an exam by a few points or my project didn’t win the blue ribbon.