Why am I complaining you ask? Well I find that some things are unfair that can be avoided if a certain person would stop ignoring me and actually listened to my reasonable arguments. I know that too many people are way worse off then me, but shouldn’t those who have a chance to enjoy life take that leap? I think they should be allowed, yes.
My problem isn’t overly big, but the results are as if I’m being chained down in the big blue sea. When will my oxygen run out? It probably already has, I am a little crazy some would say. One day I even made a new friend, that friend being a razor and oh boy did I regret doing that.
You see, over a year ago I took a test, that test being an IQ test. My results were higher than most, apparently only 2% of people are like me and have the same IQ. I was found gifted and the pressure of doing well shot up so high and so abruptly that I was sent into a pit of anxiety and depression. I always wondered why I was picked on by people, why I was called weird, and here was the answer. For me, being gifted was/is the worst thing in the world. Whenever I get a mark lower than an A+ I am made to regret it by my mother who goes on about how much of an awful child I am and tells everyone in her sight that I am a bad daughter.
There are many reasons that I’m not trying at school at the moment, one being that I spend my time daydreaming of a better world, and I use my school time to think up ideas and to write (go writers!). In a way, not doing well is a way that I’m rebelling against my mother, I hate being what she wants me to be. I also don’t do well because I just don’t feel happy in class. Letting my emotion get to me is probably a weak thing to do.
So I escape my feelings by using them as weapons in my books. Escaping to the world of fantasy is the most I can do to stay a little bit sane and keep away from that oh so daunting easy way out. But thinking about death is unfortunately as close as I can get to it due to my massive fear of dying. In other words I am a coward. Again I go back to the world of imagination, dreaming up that I am something better than the biggest loser at my school. Yet my mother tries to pull me out of my luxury, discouraging me from being a writer, telling me that failing English is appalling when I want to be a writer. Well Mum, a great writer named Emily Rodda once said that you can only write what you would read, and I would never read why Shakespeare’s plays are relevant to today’s society because that’s not the stuff I like reading.
Funny how this whole essay thing started out with me wanting my own room; having to share in a small room with three of my untidy younger siblings who are always on my back trying to upset me for their entertainment. I don’t just want my own room, I need my own room. I need that place to go and cry, I need that place to be alone, I need that place to write! I also need a place to study. Some suggestions have come from friends: study in the shed or attic or study or… The attic is full of possums, the shed is also full of possums and both of them are really dirty and dark which kind of creeps me out, plus they’re hard to reach and out of bounds.
If I don’t have somewhere to study, I won’t get an OP 1, and if I don’t get an OP 1 my parents will bulldoze me with shame. All I need is a push and I’ll jump into death, so I think all that shame would be a bad idea. Being a teacher’s daughter (my dad is a maths teacher at my school) and being gifted pushes the expectations to the boundaries. I want to impress my dad more than anything in the world. Last night I had a dream that he was boasting about how good his daughter was (me) at soccer to some of his mates. I realised how much I wanted my father’s approval. Dad is my soccer coach and in each game I try my best to do my best. I know he isn’t proud of me, he just doesn’t say it. Mum’s always saying he’s ashamed of me, I believe her.
I read somewhere that some people inflict pain because they are afraid of being hurt. I get into arguments with my mum very easily, she has anxiety after all (so do i). She tells me how much of a bad person I am, and whenever I try to argue back she tells me I’m back answering sometimes her resulting in slapping me across the face. Is she not letting me talk because I may be right? Is she afraid that I’ll point out her flaws like she does to me? My mum’s not overly successful in her eyes. She’s a nurse at my school. This brings me back to the point that I have nowhere to go to get away from them, not even school.
After being counselled I have been taught that feelings control our actions, so if I can hack into my soul and control my feelings, I can make myself a better daughter. I could, for example, make myself numb and be a zombie, go about doing well without feeling the urge to do bad. I could fill myself with rage and be a violent monster, possibly attacking anyone who dares to point a finger and laugh. I could be happy, and not care about things, just do what I have to do. Or I could be depressed which is usually what I am, everything I do will be to try and ease the pain. These emotions have their negative effects; if the emotions aren’t balanced right then you end up with someone emotionally unstable. Even being happy all the time is unhealthy.
Yet, what if I was to control my mother’s feeling? Is there an emotion I could find that could make her have a little respect for me? How do I get to this feeling? Will I end up hurt if I try? Since every word that springs from my mouth is used against me, I don’t think the risk is worth it.
I've tried to show her how things could be, I’ve told her why. My only chance of that privacy is to wait until my sister moves out, she just happens to be broke. Or I could wait until my parents win the lottery and get a shed (unlikely much?). I’ve measured furniture and showed my parents how it would work, but my mother is not at all keen of losing her ‘precious rooms’ the rooms that would look fine if we were to move an antique desk and bookshelves into until we got that shed. My father doesn’t have much say in what happens.
The other day I said to my mother that if I were to get an OP 1 but only if she gave me my own room immediately. Surprised by my deal she said that we’d start cleaning out the incredibly messy and hard to get to storage room/study to be my room. The next day being Boxing Day she said we’d do it the day after. And then the next day came and I was told we’d do it the day after. And now the idea has been erased completely. I can’t help but feel she was toying with my joy, laughing at how gullible I am.
I am constantly compared to the other teacher's daughters and asked 'Why aren't you like them?' I am told that I am being out done by them. Since when do I have to be the best Mum? I am now being compared to my best friend who is also a teacher's daughter. She is smart, pretty, positive, a good writer and her life is perfect in my view. I can't help but feel envious of her. I feel really bad for feeling that way.
All my mother really cares about is her garden, I can’t help but feel she only looks after me because no one else will. She wants me to be perfect, but won’t help me do so. Yelling at me and telling me how bad I am won’t change me, it will just make me depressed. She tries to control me by not letting leave the yard, she won’t let me buy a phone with the little money I have. I won’t buy a phone simply because I couldn’t afford the credit, not because of her. One day soon, I will rebel!
I will be great my own way! I’ll be bad for the good of myself and others!!! I’ll make everyone proud even if I don’t do entirely well. My dream is to write a great novel, and despite her disappointment in my time spent on writing I will write even more! No longer shall she stand over me! I am my own person! No more control! No more tears! No more pressure! I just don’t care what she thinks, whatever happens I’ll be ok.
My dreams are my own, not anyone else’s.
By the way random people reading this, this may have bored you to death, but it was really fun writing this and a good way to let off steam and let it all out. So I recommend writing an essay about your problems. It’s good to complain!!!!!!!!!
P.S. I didn't exactly know where to post this so... sorry about that...
tell your family how you feel .
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