I am terrible at keeping secrets. If you tell me a secret, I will have to tell someone or I might explode.
So far, I have managed to keep three major secrets and lots of petty little secrets like failed exams. Well, I wouldn’t call them secrets since I’ve already written about them on this blog some time in the past. I mostly just keep them from my mom because if I told her, she will no doubt either laugh or scream at me and I’m never in the mood for neither of those things.
My first ever secret was when I was a freshman in high school, before I moved to Texas. Dating or even liking a boy was almost forbidden. The only thing I was allowed to think about was school, studying, and more school. I didn’t care though. A boy liked me and I liked him, that’s all that it mattered. We were almost like Romeo and Juliet except without the climbing to the balcony, death, or even notice each other. We were too shy to even say the words, “I like you” to each other.
He told his sister while I told my then-best-friend. Only they knew of us. Every afternoon, when my best friend came over for tutoring, I made her pinkie-swore before she stepped into the door that she wasn’t going to say a word. Not that I didn’t want to tell my mom and step-dad, it’s just that my mom’s a little racist and step-dad’s judgmental and bias. The boy I liked was of Hispanic roots, clearly, I didn’t have a problem with it but my mom thinks (still do) mean and censor things about them and so did my step-dad.
What broke us up was 4 plane tickets to China and moving to Texas. The only other person knew of this secret was my step-grandmother when I told her about it during a cab-ride in China. She didn’t judge. She was glad and felt happy for me.
Secret #2: (you can read about why here)
I recently wrote about once again seeking help from a therapist. Well this is the second major secret. It’s not the first time. I told this secret to one of my aunts once and she laughed in disbelief. It’s like they don’t think I’ve suffered pain before. I have emotions. I feel things. I’m not made of steel. I cry, I scream, and I break down.
I feel sure I’ve written about this before but I don’t remember the post and there are too many for me to go through. Anyway, the final secret is that I almost got kicked out of college during my junior year. Bad grades, exhaustion, chaos at home, and not grasping the materials at all were the culprit of this. For a week, after being demoted back to pre-major status, I lost my appetite and ability to sleep. All the classes I planned to take the following semester had been dropped by the adviser and I was literally left with no other classes to take.
What was I going to do? What was I going to tell my mom? What was I supposed to do during those hours when I was supposed to be at school?
My mom can’t know I’ve been kicked out nor can anyone else. This news was like a huge metal ball dragging me down. I had no idea how to solve this problem until I examined my degree audit report and spotted an error. I re-took a class and the school didn’t remove the failing grade from the report. My adviser fixed it for me and I was back in.
I ended up graduating with a 2.8 GPA. I’m not proud about that but what could I have done? I wasn’t understanding any of this stuff, no matter who explained it to me.