I Was Going to Write a Book, but Then I Saw a Spider: A Memoir

Yesterday morning, I proclaimed Tuesday to be my writing day. When the work of the day was over, I would make my way home, whip out my note-book and write words that make the angels cry (that’s actually not accurate. I’m writing my first every, not-so-good draft of a story that has the potential to make angels cry, maybe). My first course of action was to grab the attention of the muses by writing this lovely blog post, when before my eyes crawled a spider. It wasn’t very big or very fast. It was, however, the exact color of my sofa and crawling right next to me.

Suddenly, the slightly lived in mess I live in became a hell of hidden bombs. Were their more? Under the blanket? Under the pillow? Is it possible for them to hide under stacks of books if those books are on the couch. I don’t know man, but I have a vacuum and I’m not afraid to use it!

Just like that, my living room has never been so cleaned. Unfortunately, not a lot got written. With just a bit of hesitation, I returned to the couch to bring you this lovely poem.

The poem does not come with a name, but I am going to call it Hiding. That’s what this particular piece is about, after all. It was found next to last week’s poem, inside the cover of a note-book full of my childhood writing. On these pages, I used a slash to indicate the end of lines that went off the page. I will honor that as I type the poem below.


It’s because I love you that I hide

because I know how heart breaking it would be

If you saw who I am inside

I know you’ll laugh at me like everyone else

because I can’t always hold it in

and when it comes out

and tries to explain itself,

It’s pushed away

rejected and humiliated

I can’t stay like this

but I fear

I know you love me and you accept me, it’s true

but only part of me

the only part I let you see

because you don’t accept all of me

And it hurts so bad

I hide it from you so you can’t see

It’s rejection I fear

and rejection from you I fear the most.

I cry myself to sleep sometimes

Knowing what makes me, me

you’ll never see

I don’t know which direction to go

Here we see why I connect with people who face discrimination for who they are. My experiences pale in comparison to many others. Even so, I remember how terrible I felt in the troughs of depressive thoughts. As I viewed the world, everyone was against me. I didn’t wish the way I felt on my worst enemy. If I could have gathered all the world’s sadness into me, I would have borne that burden so everyone else could be happy.

The question of the day is, what was I hiding.  Unfortunately, I can’t give you something specific. I liked to read, write, draw and play video games. All these interests made me abnormal. My heart, was one of an artist and I was surrounded by jocks. They didn’t understand my passions. Those passions made me different and they made me a target at school.

My father was all about business. He respected people who made good money and used it wisely. My mother was a tom boy and loved sports. Both were right at home in the small town I grew up in. At my school, you lived the high life if you had money, were good at pretending you had money or were good at sports. I always felt like an outcast. If I had been into basketball or softball, my parents would have understood and shared my enthusiasm. While I know today that they approved of my interests, I didn’t feel like they understood at the time. I felt like I had to hide and pretend to be the daughter they wanted.

There were some ‘scary’ things in my closet. I had a fascination for other cultures and other religions, especially Japanese cultures thanks to my interest in manga. While I knew I was straight,  I didn’t fault people whose truth was different. Even though I held tightly to my Christianity, I didn’t fault people who followed other religions. While I still called myself Republican, I didn’t fault people who called themselves Democrat. I felt like all these things made me different. They were the seeds from which the opinions I had today grew. I lived in a world where my grandfather would use harsh language about the Japanese in reference to World War II and where my father condemned the entirety of Islāmic religions because of the attacks on September 11th, 2001. In my world, calling yourself Democrat was the same as claiming to be an unpatriotic atheist.

So, I hid.

I can already hear the comments. They will take two forms. Some will tell me that there is nothing wrong with the interests I list, and you would be correct. I know that now. I didn’t know that then. All I knew then, was that I was different. The other comments will take offense. They will wonder if I am condemning people who like sports, are concerned about the after-effects of the wars our nation has fought or who happen to follow a Republican ideology. I don’t think those interests or opinions are any less valid than my own. I’m just trying to illustrate the traits that were safe to have in the town I grew up in. These were traits that let you blend in with everyone else. The way I thought was no more right or wrong. I was just different, and I knew it.

All of this emotion is what the above poem was born from.


19 thoughts on “I Was Going to Write a Book, but Then I Saw a Spider: A Memoir”

  1. Actually my comment would be none of those you listed; I like that you provided commentary with the poem 🙂

    So many artists who paint are obsessed with the idea of ‘letting their art speak for themselves” so what happens is people debate over what the art really means.

    So many poets do the same thing. I will read a poem and have no clue what the poet is really getting at.

    Now on one hand that is okay; it lets people interpret things differently. But ultimately., there is usually a particular meaning behind a piece of art that the artist intended….. so I find it refreshing when the artist explains what they were thinking or feeling when they painted, wrote, etc.


    1. I wrote these poems as a way of understanding myself back in the day. Now that I reflect back on them, I’m using them to try and understand the forces that made me feel this way. I don’t want them to come off as typical teenage angst, although I’m sure some of my old work is just that.

      It’s out now and it stands on it’s own. I’m not trying to say exactly what the poem means. Instead, I’m trying to explain the swirl of emotions that gave birth to this poem.

      I think that’s the way with art, though. Even if an artist says ‘this is what inspired me,’ there is always going to be a deeper meaning. Not even the artist knows all the messages their work may hold.

  2. Standing before you deformed by a warp in time.
    split in two by decisions made long gone past
    left and right both needed to make me whole
    I wish one could see me through the cracks of time
    As one being,perfect, the rejection of mine.

    To reject, to show the whole you. Okay now so that just came to me after reading the poem.
    Not always showed the true me just to be liked. isn’t that what most people do. I know I did.

    It is funny how some works of art can trigger a memory.
    Isn’t that a beautiful thing. for even now rereading can create again something new.

    Lovely read and thank you.Keep on smiling.

    1. Thanks, and I’m happy I was able to bring out some very beautiful words from you. I think it’s probably common that we feel the need to hide parts of ourselves from people. At the time I wrote this, I didn’t have a single person who knew what I considered to be all of me. I felt like my family, at least, should be able to be accepting of me. At the same time, there were parts of me I thought would disappoint them.

      Everyone wants someone they can be their true selves with. I think there is a certain pain associated with not having a person like that to confide in.

  3. i can totally appreciate your feelings in school. I was not part of the popular crowd either. I hated my school years and was extremely insecure. I just didn’t fit in with others. All I can say is that it does change. All of that is just a distant memory now. My 20s were a whirlwind of emotions. A very difficult time, to say the least. My 30s were a time of learning balance and becoming more emotionally stable. Now that I just recently turned 40 I’ve never been more happy and content with my life and with who I am as a person. I just don’t really sweat the small stuff anymore. I’ve been through the wringer, but it’s brought me to a place of tranquility and contentment. I know it’s different for everybody. Maybe your experience will be different than mine. But my hope and prayer for you is that you come through with flying colours.

    1. My 20s have been pretty good to me so far. At the point in my life where I wrote this poem, I already knew that college was my ticket out. People who made something of themselves always went to college. The second I entered University, I was able to choose true friends with whom I shared common interests and dive head first into the things I wanted to learn. Finally, I was in a place where it wasn’t weird to love the things I loved.

      I think just being out of the school system made a world of difference. In K-12, you have very little choice of who you get to spend most of your time with. Once you are out of the system, you have a greater ability to surround yourself with quality people.

  4. Thanks for sharing! it’s a lovely poem. Getting older is a nice thing, you learn to comprehend stuff, and already have more experience with emotions. It just gets easier. Just believe in yourself and stay true to yourself. You can achieve more the you imaging! We are so lucky to read your poems. Keep up the good work! *Dreams unwind, Love is a state of mind*

    1. Thanks. I’m very thankful for the poetry outlet I had in my youth. I fear I may have expressed my emotions in a way that was unhealthy if I didn’t discover writing. I saw it happen plenty of times.

  5. That happens to me all the time. I plan to write, then something comes up and next thing I know I’m off doing something else on a tangent. The day is gone and no writing was accomplished.
    As for your poem and your thoughts, I know how you feel. I didn’t experience the same pressures that you did, but I always felt outcast for thinking differently. I always felt misunderstood.
    Great poem. Thanks for sharing!

  6. You revoked some fond memories and shared so much that was personal. I appreciate it and so I will share with you how I get through the hardest moments in life, with humor. Because of this the gem I choose the place on top of all that you evoke is my favorite line from on the posts I read today “I have a vacuum and I’m not afraid to use it!” Is wonderful to see you finding the truth but don’t ever forget playfulness and laughter.

    1. Thanks ^_^. Spiders really shake me up. I feel bad for them, though. They are one of the few creatures that freak me out just because of how they look. Also I hate bugs…..

    1. I like to think I’m mostly an open book. For me, it comes to reactions. I have no problem answering any questions a person might have for me. However, if I’m upset or depressed, I work very hard to appear happy unless I really trust a person.

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 )

Twitter picture

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

Facebook photo

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

Google+ photo

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

Connecting to %s