I wasn’t motivated to write but I knew I needed to. So here I am on the blog, the blog always gives me some bit of motivation. Unlike when I am writing on my own- in those times I don’t give a f*ck about my grammar. Alright sometimes I don’t on the blog too, but I trying to improve my writing.
My teacher, for what feels like the 200th time, scolded me.
And I came home. And I cried. I wish I wasn’t such a sensitive little…thing. To sort-of paraphrase Sheldon Cooper, this world is going to chew and then spit out squishy people. And I was chewed on more than I can count. And the tiniest things feel like vampire-bites and I die and then walk around dead all over. I want to blame this on my mental-illness, but I knew I was still like this before my anxiety developed.
I usually hold myself together and the only other times I cried was just when I was in first grade and just two years ago I think. No wait, I would excuse myself to the bathroom and cry in there. I knew the teacher herself was worried with her own things and it wasn’t 90% about me, her anger at me not getting “the sense of it” with my studies, but I still cried. Well, I held myself together all the way home and then I cried here. I wish I never cried. And great, I am crying as I write this.
If you are a highly sensitive person, just know you aren’t alone. I just don’t understand how others cannot simply put in the tiniest effort into understanding where others are coming from. I even do this with the cruelest of people, trying to understand what caused them to do whatever they did, but I don;t forgive them, forgiving and understanding are two things. But I just don’t get it. Why does people have to act like other people are objects that needs “managing” by harsh criticism ? I understand when something does something out-of-line, but emotionally “cutting” other people should be too. I meditated before going to her class, but now I have to meditate again to recover from her. And no, leaving this teacher is not an option. Good teachers are hard to find here.