Disregard my interests

I was talking to an old friend of mine about something that happened in my life that I was proud of, and before I spoke, I was filled with joy and excitement. However, soon after the words left my mouth, I was filled with guilt and embarrassment. I was guilty of reasons I could not comprehend. I was embarrassed because I knew he would ask to see this thing I was so proud of. Yes. I was embarrassed because he would see what I was proud of. It makes little sense. But I had a genuine fear that this thing that I considered to be amazing would be viewed as stupid, as worthless, and I would be looked down upon for liking it. As one who has too much time does, I began to wonder why do I feel this way. I remember back to when I was opening up college acceptance letters, and I saw on from a school that I honestly did not want to go to. Everyone I knew wanted to go to this school. From friends, classmates, my parents, and more. Yet, I hated this school. I told no one of this and turned down the school’s offer. I already knew which school had my heart. Yet no one knew of this accomplishment. I was embarrassed that I did not like this school. Embarrassed that instead of going to this nationwide competitive school, I chose a school that not many people knew of. I chose the school I chose because because I knew in my heart it was the one place I would grow the most as a person. That is why I was embarrassed. I chose personal growth over what was “smarter”. I chose my interests.
Dating even further back, I was embarrassed over things I preferred or had any interest in. Laying in bed, my brain likes to play tricks on me. It wants to play a mini-movie of all the times in my life I felt embarrassed. Two particular moments like to play on repeat every single time. The first I was about nine years old. I was presenting on a book I had read during that school year. I chose a book that was long and to most other kids boring. It was an autobiography. Yet, I worked so hard on my presentation. I spent hours upon hours writing and perfecting it. The day to present finally came, and as I got up on the “stage,” I was filled with joy. I was so excited to show everyone in my class what I had read and learned. Five minutes into the presentation, I look out, and everyone is asleep or looking around the room. I remember thinking, “God, just hurry up, make this moment end.” I was embarrassed. How could I ever think this interest of mine was something worth sharing. That others would care. Two years later, a similar event happened. In English class, we had to pick a song. We played it for the class and then had to break it down by metaphors and similes and more. I was playing a song from an album I loved. I played this song, and once again, one by one, the class got bored. It was a song about six minutes long. But for 11-year-old, it never ends. I heard someone whisper, “When is this gonna end.” There voice filled with annoyance and boredom. I retracted all my joy back inside myself. I finished my presentation at lighting speed. I still, to this day, refuse to choose the music in the car. “Pass the AUX to someone else”. I refuse to bore my friends. The things that interest me are hidden deep. I share with only those who mention it first. A friend can say, “Hey, let’s watch this video on _,” and only then will I speak of that topic. I am still working on myself and my fears everyday I wake up. This little tiny thing that sucks so much joy out of myself I one battle I fear will be fought for many years to come.

Published by Kathrine

Emergency Room Nurse spends too much time thinking, reflecting, and over-analyzing every detail of life. Hoping to one day figure it all out.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: