Doesn't mean much...

October 15, 1999

I haven't written in the last few days because the words were not there. I attempted to write an entry yesterday but failed miserable, so I scrapped it. Sometimes I am out doing something or I'm watching TV when something just speaks to me and I have to run tot he computer to write out an entry. Tonight was one of those nights, after one of those days.

Occasionally I feel like I am holding back from myself, this journal and my readers when I do not lay it all on the line. Even though I have open my life as a book I still have a difficult time in writing about all my vulnerabilities and fears. Even here I have put on a mask, when I should not have one but for a moment, I am going to come out from behind the mask.

I often feel like I am hiding from myself, behind the writing, the smiles, and the laughter. Sometimes when I look in the mirror I see the insecure girl that hungers for acceptance and I hate her. I fear not being liked, I fear being backstabbed and talked about. In elementary school, I was the little girl kids picked on and the little girl no other little girls would be friends with. Most of my friends were boys or the nerds of the class and no matter how hard I tried I was never was popular or invited to the cool birthday parties or sleep overs. I hated school and everyday I couldn't wait to walk home to sit in front of the TV or retreat to my own little world of make believe. At night I laid in bed and fantasized about what it would be like to be the popular girl, the rich little girl and what it would be like to be able to go to all the parties and sleepovers. In middle school it really wasn't any different. I was made fun of because I was shy and smart but I was able to make a few friends and actually became one of the in crowd. Half way through the year that all changed when something I said got blown out of proportion and I became the most picked on seventh grader in school. My nickname was "Jan Brady" and I was taunted and made fun of constantly over one thing or another, I hated myself and I would daydream about death and dying and would anyone care. When the school year was over, I was so relieved that I would have twelve weeks of peace. I remember begging my mother not to send me back there and how much I hated it but she wouldn't listen.

That summer at the age of thirteen I attempted suicide.

I don't know what was the last straw but one morning I woke up and all I wanted to do was die. I took a bottle of pills that night before going to bed and prayed I'd never wake up. I did wake up, hours later vomiting the worse I ever have. Instead of feeling grateful for my life, I kept thinking about how I had just screwed up again. A few weeks later my mother took my brother and I on a family vacation to Heritage USA (the place Jim and Tammy Baker started) for three weeks. Whoopee, I thought, but actually that trip changed me and who I am today.

I didn't have some great religious experience there but I did get my eyes open up to the world and all the sin it had to offer. I took my first drink, smoked dope, and kissed my first man. In that three week time, the shy and afraid Kim disappeared never to be seen again. That girl died that summer and now she is just a haunting memory of what I once was.

When I got home and school began again my classmates were shocked at how much I changed -- I cut my hair and colored it, I smoked, and I was brazen and outspoken. The second week of school I stood in front of Bible class and dropped my uniform skirt because the teacher wouldn't let me go to the bathroom. I got into fights (and won), skipped classes and cussed. Teachers were shocked and my friends wondered what had happen to me over the summer. I wasn't exactly welcomed into the "in" crowd but I was no longer the little shy "Jan Brady" they had all once made fun of. Luckily the next three years of school I became well known for being out spoken, determined, and a girl that was often out of control and I didn't mind one bit. But every now and then the old, shy insecure Kim haunted who I had become and I didn't like her.

I got a good haunting this week from her, especially the latter part of this week. I have felt insecure about who I am, my parenting skills, and my impression to the world. I found myself feeling closed off from those around me and I wanted to hide. I sat in the house worrying that friends were talking about me behind my back and plotting against me. Paranoia sunk in and before I knew it I was a nervous wreck with a full blown panic attack just because I misunderstood someone's words and actions. I looked in the mirror and hated myself and I couldn't seem to bring myself out of it. Luckily I was able to bring myself out of it and realize that most of what I am feeling is all my head and that all my childhood insecurities about being liked and popular are unfounded. At least I hope so.