Dead Friendships and Learning to Cope
Dead Friendships and Learning to Cope
When I was very young 2-3 years-old my parents had to take me to speech therapy. Well, my kindergarten had a therapist who helped me with some of my initial symptoms. I always had the problem of thinking faster than I’m able to speak, write, or able to communicate. When I was a child this made me angry and frustrated because the other kids didn’t understand me.
My mom told me that I even punched once I kid on the noise. I used to cry a lot. But tantrums weren’t acceptable for my dad. He used to tell me “if you are going to cry I will give you a good reason to cry.” After a couple of spanks, I learned that he meant business. He didn’t have much patience but also he really hated seeing me cried. He truly loved me. I was the light of his eyes. Everyone that knew him well tells me that, and I explain these because I know these practices aren’t well seen today. But my parents did the best job they could and I’m not going to allow anyone to judge them just because you have a different style of parenting.
Back to me, the therapy helped me. I started making friends easier. As I explained in my previous story, I always had a vivid imagination, so as a young child it helped me to make a lot of friends. But when I made the transition to basic school things changed. I wasn’t so happy anymore. We had to move from the building apartment where I had so many friends to one where I had none. I was isolated. I gained weight. I eat my feelings.
When I started primary school bullying became a reality for me too. The friends that I had from kindergarten rejected me. It was my first taste of the cruelty to the world, and damn, kids can be cruel. It only made things worst. Food became my friend, my happy place, my joy. Television my escape to my reality and my imagination only grew more.
My grades were never affected by my depression. My father never allowed that. In Asia they have a concept called “Tiger parent,” my dad was a “Tiger dad.” He knew I was different, that I was like him. So he gave me from day one tools to cope, and taught me lessons to be bright, cunning, “a shark” just like him but not entirely like him. He wanted me to be better, not his copy, that was his fear. He pushed me every day to get high grades. My school projects were my responsibility. I never got help from my parents. Only if I actually needed but first I needed to try by myself, he checked at the end, or my mom but never help me do it.
So in school, I not only stood up by my looks “the fat kid” but also for being one of the “smart kids.” Not a great combination for popularity but I was also good at sports, extremely competitive. I was, and I’m still I horrible loser. Again for my tiger dad losing was not a word you can have on your mind when you go to a game. Most children don’t have that mentality and made me angry, I can laugh now when I remember this, but it wasn’t fun at the time. I hated them for not trying hard enough to win. For them it was just a game, for me it was all or nothing.
I was the captain of my kickball team and my trainers use me to play in two bigger categories than I wasn’t supposed to play. I loved that. To have my abilities recognized, and also allowed me to meet older kids improving my popularity, or at least people respected me or fear me a bit and the bullying was a bit less intense.
But when I think about school and high-school —because in my country we normally go to the same school for 11 years what a hell —my friendships are always changing, just like my moods. I don’t have much contact anymore with a lot of people from those years. I played mental games with some. I lied a lot. Some didn’t understand my mood swings, how could they? I was struggling to understand those too. I damage a lot of good relationships with my attitude, by taking rash decision, by being in a bad mood when I was depressed and I haven’t slept for days, by being mean with people that didn’t deserve it. Especially in my teenage years.
I hated everyone for having such an easy life. I envy most of them, their problems were so common. Were mine in comparison were so complicated. I was fighting demons in my head, while they were worrying about who was more pretty. I couldn’t connect with them. I tried. I wear a mask every day or at least when I was able to make the effort, the happy Zu, the one that would help you with your homework and passed the test because you are failing the class where I barely make an effort.
In the end, I stop making an effort. I cheated a lot. It was boring. So why trying so hard especially on subjects that I didn’t find interesting and I also knew I was never going to need in the real world. That got me some street credit or at least I remember it pissed off some of the smart kids that didn't cheat. Again fearless or careless, but I already had a good reputation with the teachers. I knew that even if I was caught they weren’t going to do anything to me. I wasn’t a trouble maker. I learned to leave the teachers alone and they will let me be. I always say manipulation is an art.
But this story is getting too long so to be continued…
Zuzu Ramirez CEO of Stop Look Share
PS: If you or a person you know are struggling with a mental condition always look for professional advice and support!
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