April 22, 2010


so I have been watching this TV show called Parenthood. It is a really great show all about a family and their interactions together. You see hard things that go on from a kid diagnosed with aspergers to rebellious teenagers who hide weed in their backyard to a single mom who falls on hard times and has to move back in with her parents along with her two kids.

I was watching the most recent episode called "Rubber Band Ball" on hulu today. (http://www.hulu.com/watch/143513/parenthood-rubber-band-ball)

at 33min about there is the single mom trying to talk to her daughter. She is trying so hard to understand what is going on. I wish my mom had done that. I wish she had pushed harder, but still knew when to stop. (earlier in this episode the daughter, amber, was in her room and her mom, sarah, wanted to talk and amber just said not now, through tears...and sarah let it go...she gave amber her space, it was the epitome of a perfect interaction) but back to the scene I am at now.

Sarah: you know, i am done trying to control you, it doesn't work.
Amber: you know, i'm fine
Sarah: are you? sometimes I'm not sure. I just don't want us to be like this, i love you so much, i think i'll just try to get along with you and trust you
Amber: ok
Sarah: ok
Amber: I'm meeting Damien, he's picking me up
Sarah: ok

now that I have typed this out I am realizing that it makes no sense out of context. If you want to know the context then watch the episode, actually watch all the episodes. it is an AMAZING show! Not to get all show crazy about this show, but a lot of what goes on just hits me hard and is much deeper than what you would expect from a tv show. These two characters particularly interest me. Maybe because I have never had much of a relationship with my mom...maybe because the two deepest and most intimate conversations I have ever had with my mom went like this:

Me: I...I started my period...[first period]
Mom: well do you have stuff?
Me: nope...
Mom: well just take this [hands me pad] and go to the bathroom...

and the second...

Me: so, I my friend is telling me these things...about drugs and what she does with boys, she is having sex and doing drugs...
Mom: she is probably lying, just forget about it...

wow....those sound even lamer typed out than I already know they are...funnily enough these two conversations happened in the summer before 7th grade and in 7th grade...i was having enough crap going on in my life and my mom just didn't seem to care...she was embarrassed about the period talk and didn't want to believe that a 7th grader could be having sex or into hardcore drugs...(that friend was addicted to crystal meth by the end of 8th grade)

It is no wonder I do not trust her to talk to about this sort of stuff...if i ever have kids (with a husband, adopted or sperm donation) I want my kids to be able to talk to me...i will not shut them down because I am embarrassed...I will not let them believe that they have anything to be embarrassed about...

ok well i really need to get going on my homework...i have a ton of paper due in the next week...

Emmy R.

April 18, 2010


I feel like I know how those people feel who want to go back to their boyfriend or girlfriend after their girlfriend or boyfriend beats them. This is the story in several parts of my life.

One part is the part where I am friends with Amanda. She treated me like crap, told me she hated me, and yet I still care about her. Why do I still care about her? Amanda was in no way my boyfriend or girlfriend. She was a mere friend. Or at least someone I thought was my friend. She treated me like crap. She told me she hated me. She has given me no reason to care anymore. But yet I do still care. I wish that there was something I could do to make things better. But there just isn’t. Part of me wants to call her and say something to make everything better, do something, and beg her forgiveness for whatever wrong I have done. Another part of me just doesn’t care. At all. It wants to forget that our relationship ever happened. It wants to go on with my life and forget. These two parts of me are fighting and fighting. It is an internal fight, only erupting when I am most frustrated and begin to cry. Part of me wants to tell myself that this isn’t worth crying over. This relationship is not worth it. Another part misses what we had and feels sorrow for the loss. I know in my head that all she has caused me is pain in the recent past but for some reason all my heart remembers is the good memories. I go back and forth and back and forth and I have no one to talk to about it. I might talk to my sister, if only we could talk face to face. I might talk to my best friend, Laura, but she is all the way in Israel and again I cannot talk to her face to face. No one I really want to talk to, who is not involved in the direct situation is available to talk to. The only other option is to maybe go to the counseling center at school. The only problem is that I do not want to talk to some stranger right now. I want to talk to someone who kind of knows me, at least a little bit. Maybe I could talk to my RD from last year. I feel like he knows me a bit because he knows about my cutting. Maybe he can understand where my mind goes. I do not know. We will have to see.

Another part is me and cutting. I turn to it and it hurts me. I never end up better from my interactions with it. I have never had something completely positive come out of it. Yet I want it. I want to go back to it. I long to be held in its arms, to have its blade caress my arm. I long, I long, I long. But I know all it does it hurt me. In the end all I end up with is regret and shame and cuts that need caring for, and after that scars. This whole week I have been worrying about my scars. They show a brighter pink when I get cold and they keep being obvious. I am so freaked out that someone will see and it will lead to an awkward conversation that I am just not ready for. In general if the normal public see I do not care. I just care if my friends see, or someone else who I care what they think. I spent my dorm banquet in a sweater over my dress. I keep hiding my arms under sweatshirts.

But I need to go study. Perhaps I will write more another day.