When I think about my life, one question always pops into my head, "What am I doing here?". I grew up in a house with a mom, a dad, no siblings, and a smattering of pets throughout the years. You could also say there were some significant events that took place. First it started with one health problem, a death, another health problem, dance issues, family problems, and frustration. The list does go on and on, but a small summary of each satisfies that need that we humans have to hear juicy details.
At the age of 9 I was not a social kid, I was obsessed with art, and I was diagnosed with a hyperactive thyroid. Naturally my parents took me to the best doctor at Yale New Haven Hospital. I can recall that day, sitting there on that ugly greenish blue table. The doctor came in and confirmed what the pediatricians had said, "Your thyroid is in fact hyperactive.", and then he said "You have 3 choices: iodine radiation, surgery and... (unfortunately I forgot the last one)". I remembered how badly I wanted to cry, and all I could think of were all the sick kids in hospital beds who just had surgery and how "messed up" they were . I was traumatized. Then the next thing that is just as equally traumatizing was when they took me into another room and decided to draw blood from me. I was fine with it, but not with the hyperactive thyroid. To make matters much worse I persisted to cry, no, more like sob. Then the hospital clowns (I'm not kidding by the way) came into the room and my father had to hold me in his lap very tightly so they could draw blood. Ever since I never could come to terms with peacefully going for blood tests.
When I was 12 on November 24th 2003 my mom passed away. She wasn't the healthiest person but she wasn't sick either. Her death was rather sudden and startling. No one had expected it and as many adults declare and so will I, "I remember that day as if it was yesterday." My aunt picked me up after school when she told me that mom was in the emergency room and that everything was going to be fine. We went to go get Wendy's for my mom, because coici (it means aunt in Polish) was the one who took her. I found out she was having some chest pains and they did some testing, but needed to further investigate. My dad soon arrived and I remember hearing my mom and coici talking about if she had been smoking recently. I think my mom said no, and coici remarked that, that was a lie. Well, later that night she was transferred up to her room. My dad was putting her coat into the small closet in the hospital and my mom told me to get her pajamas. I grabbed them while she went to the bathroom. Next thing you know she collapsed on the floor, had what appeared to be a concussion and the last words that she uttered was my name. Dropping everything I rushed over, screamed for a nurse. No one came, I ran out into the hallway and then finally they shooed us out and tried to revive her. It appeared that she had gotten a concussion, and either had a blood clot or a massive heart attack. At that point we had no clue that she had a small chance of living. My dad and I went to the little kitchen and waited. All I kept thinking was, "Oh my god what if she's dead?", then I started to say it out loud. I remember my dad told me, "Don't say things like that!" Instantly it reminded me of when my grandma in Poland passed away and I missed school for 2 weeks. Then I was thinking, "Cool I get to miss school," immaturely and thinking "Wow, now I'm destined to go to Hell. God is probably watching me right now." The doctor came and calmly said, "I'm sorry sir but your wife has passed away." His calmness shocked me. I wanted to rush in there and try to revive her myself!
Now that I look back on it I feel so responsible and mature. As soon as she died I offered to call all the family, members. My dad didn't even offer, but the nurse did. Then my counselor in seventh grade called the house the next day and asked how I was feeling. I said fine and said I'll be ready for school the next day. She was astonished and suggested I stay at home as long as needed. But everyone thought it was denial. Still to this day I haven't had the time to grieve, which isn't normal according to many people. It's not like I can bring her back. What's the point?
Since the beginning of my thyroid problems I had noticed that I was abnormally tired. Come to find out as of recent that it was because I had chronic fatigue syndrome, anemia, and that I'm not producing enough blood cells. I thought I was just deprived of sleep. Maybe even extremely lazy. Much to my dismay no one really believes me. For example, the nurses at school don't think my doctor is a real doctor. How funny?
Then dance became a huge event in my life. I lived for dance. I don't mean to brag but I was good. I almost had it all, but when you glaze over the fact that in dance the politics are heavier than the ones currently in the government. You can get into a bit of trouble. For instance, since freshman year, when I first started Ukrainian Folk dancing. I worked my way up fast, too fast for some. Many people did not like it and I didn't make many friends. To put it lightly it's taken four years for me to finally get on their good side and its only just beginning.
My family has had problems way before I was born. I was the victim in every situation. My parents would fight. Sides of the family would have "problems" that don't need to be elaborated upon. And i sympathize with those who have problems or multiple problems, because I can honestly say, "No matter what problem you throw at me I'll understand exactly what you're talking about."The best example to show what I mean by such a confident statement is living in my house with my father for 17 years. Sure he's nice, the typical soft voiced immigrant, and so on. Don't let it fool you. He's smarter than you think. Definitely, as rude and disrespectful as this is (which I hate to do and I never should use the word hate, but here's an exception) my dad is like Hitlers, Stalin's, and the devils twin. I honestly don't think I've ever been parented the proper way. The way most kids should be. I do everything by myself. No one ever helps me. I've been cooking since 3rd grade. When my mom died I cooked everything, breakfast, dinner, my school lunches. My dad didn't go to college. He does not know how to help me with homework if I ever need it. He has me write emails for him because his grammar is just so bad. He says not nice things to me. Degrades my confidence. He tells me, "No you can't be a cook. That doesn't pay much. You can't be an artist. You can't be a homemaker." No one believes me, because I'm a child. I don't know any better. In fact I believe I'm more mature than the most mature people in my age range. I didn't have a childhood. After my mom died, I wasn't let out of the house. Friends disappeared over the years. He's so opinionated , and 80% of the time I'm right. Therefore he hates it, he says he loves me as all parents should but deeply angry.
My frustration gets tugged in a few directions. First I'm mad about school, love, and people. School, oh lovely school. I'm not mad about grades, I just hate the American school system. And my father says don't say that, but why not? Because who's feelings am I going to hurt other than everyone who in a way is hurting mine by being taught his way. I think all Americans should hear it. The students are so disrespectful and then they say, "Oh I know" and try to be what they think is respectful but in truth there no where close. We don't learn at a good level. High School students in Europe know as much as college students know here. Proof can be said over and over again, but Americans are too proud, I think, to admit such things, or to realize the truth. It's mind boggling to see people ignore the facts. On that note, homeopathy. Why is it not recognized? I strongly believe in it, not only because it saved my life, but because they U.S. pharmaceutical companies are cheating its populace. Why on earth would they do that? Is money that great when you know your the cause of pain, suffering and death of all those Americans who take those pills. The pills that say get they rid of e.g. allergies, but can cause damage to your liver. Honestly, and yes the cure to cancer has been found, but we're too ignorant. Then I'm, I know very picky about who I want to date. Boys are extremely immature. My list of big "no-nos" consists of: they can't be creepy, geeky, stupid, rude, weird, or extremely ugly. Now yes that narrows things down, a lot. But I can't compromise any of this. Why you say, because I've had guys that were friends who fit into a no-no category and they became more than friends and it DID NOT work out. And then the ones that fit the description automatically get nervous or why around me, why? I can't deal with that. My life is complicated I can't handle them in that way. Would it be so hard for a loving caring, non ugly, not crazy maniac to just ask me out? Save me heart attack, for goodness sake. I wouldn't be able to deal with rejection just yet. Since that's an everlasting rabbit's hole, what about my frustration with people? I hate counselor or people that think they can help me. At one time I thought they could. I want to them to, but they don't know what to do with me because I'm ambitious. When I want something done I get it done. When they can't help me right away I'm just going to fix it myself. I understand my problems the best. I could talk for weeks on each subject and more that I've already elaborated on. I also don't like the people in our school, most actually not all. Amity is a stuck up school. Richer parents send their spoiled kids to school, not to say I'm not spoiled from time to time. But I realize everything, I look at every point of view. I'm not going to be a primadonna, for who's satisfaction? Certainly not my own.
I spilt it all, well almost. Getting to the point. Well don't we all want to get there sometimes. A narrative could be interesting, but as you can see from the sampling of some of my life stories, its complicated. My life can't really be simplified into two sentence summaries of each problem that was extremely important in my life. The one piece of advice is going to have to be a collection of them. When I was younger my mother used to tell me every night before I went to bed some stories. They were called Kathy stories (having nothing to do with my name). My mom had a best friend who is still alive and she would tell me a story of Kathy's experiences. They all had a message to them. I use those pieces of advice everyday of my life, just to keep me going because I know that I'm destined for something greater even if no one believes me. "We all have our own paths, but only you travel your own, and you Katherine will never truly be understood by others" In a nutshell that was the piece of advice I got from my mother one night when she and I were chatting up a storm. This is really out of the blue, but since I'm pouring out my soul. I'd just like to say I want to go to Yale. I speak 7 languages and understand everything I am taught in immense detail, but I've never had the chance to prove myself. Because I'm so busy, exhausted and so hurt that it's too difficult to even bother to try to explain in a nutshell, my life. So I'm not going to falter when Yale doesn't accept me, because I know I don't abide by the American standard. And even though I want the best education, I learned from all my mom's advice that I'm my best teacher.
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