There's something disquieting about watching war movies and dramas. It's real, but then again, it isn't. Documentaries are another story entirely. It's wonderful because there's truth to it. On the other hand, it makes the experience even more emotionally turbulent. I'm currently sitting on the couch, sobbing into my UGA blanket. "Vietnam in HD" is amazing, and I'm glad to have some history back on The History Channel.
Excuse me, History.To be fair, this miniseries is more of a personal account of the war with little title cards of important events sprinkled in. That's okay with me. I'm a huge 'Band of Brothers" and "The Pacific" fan, and I love being able to connect faces with specific stories. It's also absolutely heartbreaking. Hearing men that could be my grandpa choke up always makes me feel terrible sick to my stomach. I hate seeing older men cry, and there are moments when I just want to jump into the TV and give the vets featured a big hug and a box of tissues.
It brings up some unfortunate memories of my grandpa as well. I feel like I'm watching it partly to feel closer to him. We've never had a close relationship, and it's steadily gotten worse over the past couple of years. I wish I could understand him, but he's a bit impossible at times. I guess I'll have to settle for this tiny window into his world.
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Is It the Most Wonderful Time of the Year?
The holiday season is fast approaching, and I'm already feeling the anxiety and paranoia building up inside of me. Whenever I can manage to drag myself out of my apartment, I'm assaulted with the consumerism that has become Christmas. Macy's and other department stores starting building their displays in September, and once Halloween is over, it's full blown panic to get everything one would "need" to make this season the best ever. For me, it's probably the opposite.
I'm positive now that I'm suffering from full-blown agoraphobia. At the beginning of the semester, it wasn't so hard to go outside of my apartment. Now, waking up in the mornings to go to class or work is a battle. Every morning I awake this heighten sense that someone's watching me, or that my entire day is going to be the worst I've ever had.
I feel like I'm about to self-destruct. I'm afraid of what this mean for my future. I'd never want to get to the point of considering institutionalization, but if I can't get a handle on my everyday life, how am I going to be able to get through the mess that's usually Thanksgiving and Christmas with my family?
This year is set to be extra special. My cousin (who's a year younger and has just started college) is pregnant and has therefore committed the Epic Fail of the year. She's been in class for less than 3 months, and lives less than 10 miles from her mom and stepfather; I think I've said enough. That does mean that the Barnett family won't be visiting for either holiday, and that will spare my family having to listen to my aunt's so called Christian manifesto on living life.
My oldest cousin and my oldest uncle on my mother's side will be spending the holidays in prison and jail respectively. My granny's new beau (who I hate as much as her last one) will unfortunately be joining us unless he manages to infuriate her before Thanksgiving. My aunt might show up, but her girlfriend's on the run from the law, so she'll probably pass up coming into any of the Southern United States.
So I think it will be me, Ma, Sir, Megan, Kandise, Jordan, Granny, James (the beau), and Uncle Denis. We're probably have the usual spread, and we'll all be pooped before 8 p.m. It might actually be somewhat normal, considering most of the nefarious elements of my family won't be able to make it.
A normal holiday. That'll be the first this family has ever seen.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
The beginnings of an epic quest
A year ago today, I was sitting in the office of Dr. Peeples, the dorkiest/coolest pharmapsychologist certified by the state board of Georgia. While our usual discussion was going in the direction of "blah blah, worried about college, blah blah, my extended family is crazy", He asked my a question that I still can't answer affirmatively. "Are you happy with your life up to this point?" As I sat there with my confused faced (that oh so attractive grimace that makes me look like a chimp), I felt a panic attack coming. I had no idea if I was content, much less happy.
Reflecting on that life changing question, I can't say that I've ever been truly happy. I’ve gone through life laughing off or raging about the misfortunate parts of living as Timeeka Bruton. Dr. Peeples, being a Tibetan Buddhist sage trapped in the body of a 37 year old white man from South Carolina, said that happiness is a relative state of mind. Well I have never truly felt it. I wasn’t a happy baby, a happy child, or a happy teenager (but happy teenager sounds like a paradox). I’m afraid that my adult life is going to follow the same course.
My grandmother (granny for those who know her) once said that one is never truly happy and that we all live in a toss-up between contentment and discontentment. Looking her life, it seems as though she has lived in discontentment for the past 30 years. The only one of her birth children to succeed in life (stable job, married, “healthy” family, her OWN house) was my mother. The rest are perfect pictures of what you can do to completely your life and of those around you. Their failures pushed my mother and grandmother to try to do the best with my generation. And when my oldest cousin failed to make something of his life, all of that hope was transferred to me.
Being the model child of my entire family (nuclear and extended) is the reason why I am physically and mentally afflicted. The panic attacks, the cysts, and my immune system are responding to the pressure I’ve put on myself to succeed. I HAVE TO SUCCEED. I CANNOT end up like my grandmother, my mother, my father, my aunts and uncles, my cousins, and even my older brother. I have spent my entire life up to this point in a constant state of panic, and I know that I can’t live the rest of my life this way.
There was a point in January of this year that I decided that I would try to put myself into a coma. I didn’t want to die (it seemed too cliché to attempt suicide), and I didn’t want to physically harm myself (because I am a chicken). I thought if I spent maybe a week or two completely disconnected from the rest of the world, I would be able to calm down and figure out what is was that I was looking for in life. Instead, I ended up falling out of my loft after taking two really strong pain killers that my doctor prescribed for dealing with my cyst. After that really awesome month of back pain, I realized that the only way I would manage to even begin to figure things out would be to cut myself off from friends and family, which only led to more therapy.
So a year after being handed the question that will drive my life, I haven’t even cracked the surface. I am still hanging out in the darkness of my own psyche. But who knows? A year from now, I might have part one figured out.
Reflecting on that life changing question, I can't say that I've ever been truly happy. I’ve gone through life laughing off or raging about the misfortunate parts of living as Timeeka Bruton. Dr. Peeples, being a Tibetan Buddhist sage trapped in the body of a 37 year old white man from South Carolina, said that happiness is a relative state of mind. Well I have never truly felt it. I wasn’t a happy baby, a happy child, or a happy teenager (but happy teenager sounds like a paradox). I’m afraid that my adult life is going to follow the same course.
My grandmother (granny for those who know her) once said that one is never truly happy and that we all live in a toss-up between contentment and discontentment. Looking her life, it seems as though she has lived in discontentment for the past 30 years. The only one of her birth children to succeed in life (stable job, married, “healthy” family, her OWN house) was my mother. The rest are perfect pictures of what you can do to completely your life and of those around you. Their failures pushed my mother and grandmother to try to do the best with my generation. And when my oldest cousin failed to make something of his life, all of that hope was transferred to me.
Being the model child of my entire family (nuclear and extended) is the reason why I am physically and mentally afflicted. The panic attacks, the cysts, and my immune system are responding to the pressure I’ve put on myself to succeed. I HAVE TO SUCCEED. I CANNOT end up like my grandmother, my mother, my father, my aunts and uncles, my cousins, and even my older brother. I have spent my entire life up to this point in a constant state of panic, and I know that I can’t live the rest of my life this way.
There was a point in January of this year that I decided that I would try to put myself into a coma. I didn’t want to die (it seemed too cliché to attempt suicide), and I didn’t want to physically harm myself (because I am a chicken). I thought if I spent maybe a week or two completely disconnected from the rest of the world, I would be able to calm down and figure out what is was that I was looking for in life. Instead, I ended up falling out of my loft after taking two really strong pain killers that my doctor prescribed for dealing with my cyst. After that really awesome month of back pain, I realized that the only way I would manage to even begin to figure things out would be to cut myself off from friends and family, which only led to more therapy.
So a year after being handed the question that will drive my life, I haven’t even cracked the surface. I am still hanging out in the darkness of my own psyche. But who knows? A year from now, I might have part one figured out.
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