How I broke my own heart - Episode 2

In 8th grade, I started attending the school drama club because I wanted to try out something new. At first, I was really shy and anxious, not really able to speak up an also I stuttered a lot throughout my speeches. But I got better and better during the training. In the end, I was more comfortable when I was standing on a stage with hundreds of people watching than standing in front of a class with about thirty people watching.

There was one main reason why I felt so comfortable in drama club: Nobody knew me. I was a nobody, a blank canvas. Somebody, the others had to get to know. They did not see the book-nerd with the cat-prints on her shirts, they saw the person behind all of that weirdness. It was a whole new world and I loved it. Also, because I was a teenager, I kind of started to like a guy who was two classes ahead of me but this was just some short-therm crush that (at least at that time) did not have a huge impact on me (but he is going to be important later on in this whole story).

After a year of good memories and fun in drama club went by, I attended it again in 9th grade. A few new people attended as well and despite being introverted and not a people-person, I even enjoyed that. One of the newbies was actually in the class ahead of me. His name was Eli. In the daytime, during school, he was one  of the cool guys. He was funny, smart, witty and good-looking despite being short for a guy but still taller than me.

I kind of got over the disappointment of Fabian so my 15 year old teenage heart decided to go for another disappointment. From time to time we started talking about random things behind the scenes or between the rehearsals (we even had one class together because all of the non-catholic people were thrown together in one afternoon-class) and you could say that we got pretty close.

I thought that I had leaned from the past heartbreak, so this time it would not go wrong. Whatever happened, I would never tell anybody about this crush. Or even lie. And that is, why this one went wrong. Of course, it was my own fault.

This one day, I remember pretty clearly. It was during one of the last rehearsals and we were sitting in the back-end of the school hall, where we were having our rehearsals. At first I was just talking to two other girls who were in 7th grade and Eli was needed behind the scenes. The girls kept asking me about wether I had a crush on somebody and I just said yes but did not tell any names. They kept asking about who it might be and because it was getting annyoing, I answered their questions after a while. During our talk, Eli joined us just as his name was dropped. One of the girls was looking at him and said “Is it him? Do you have a crush on Eli?” and of course all eyes were on me. I am pretty sure I flushed when I stuttered a “N-No of course not.” and looked at him for way too long.

I could have told him the truth afterwards but I was too afraid that it would become a mess just like it did with Fabian, so I kept my mouth shut. Two weeks later, the girl who asked me if I had a crush on him was his girlfriend and I saw them on the hallway every damn day. It was horrible.

A few years later, I met Eli on a school dance of the school I went on after this one and we were (legally) pretty drunk at that time. He insisted on dancing with me but to that day we didn’t dance because the timing was never right. When he asked about dancing with me, he seemed interested in me but I was not able to look at him without regretting what I have said - or in this case, what I have not said. Dear Eli, I wish you would have been my first boyfriend with 15. It would have been easier to grief over a breakup than over a relationship that never happened.

How I broke my own heart - Episode 1

The first part of this story leads us to my time in the hell that we call school. I have never been one of the cool kids and I probably will never be one of those. You have to imagine me as a strange little girl with an obsession for cats and books, barely any friends.

The school I was in was about the level of junior high or secondary school. It was usual that you have to decide in 6th grade, what main profession you want to attend to from 7th to 10th grade so that meant you would be in a whole new class from 7th grade on. And that is where all of this kind of went down.

I was about 13 years old when this new class situation started and still a weirdo who was into cats and books. Fortunately, I knew a few people from past classes who were also being transferred into the new class that I ended up in. Those three people were my only real friends from that year on.

Our class was the most hated one among our year, mostly because we were basically fighting every week. It was a very cliché situation: There were the popular kids, the cool but weird and artsy kids and the outsiders. Of course, I was an outsider. Most of the time, the cool kids just ignored us and that was okay with me. Really, not getting any attention is better than being bullied. Unless you fall for one of the cool kids.

The innocent, shy and naive little 13 year old me of course fell for the cute redhead who was one of the “leaders” of the cool kids’ group. I used to stare at him in class, daydream about us being a cute couple and it became pretty obvious, that I liked him but I never said a word about it. One day, one of the cool kids asked me wether my “obsession” was real or not. I did not want to lie and trusted the girl, which was a big mistake. Of course, she went and told everybody in class, as soon as she knew.

At first, I did not notice anything. I didn’t notice the giggling that went on when I walked past the guy I liked, I did not see the red flags that were waving all over the classroom. The guy’s best friend used to sarcastically call us a cute couple or tell me that my boyfriend awaited me and that was when I started to realize, they were mocking me since the beginning. They were making fun of me even though I never had the courage to tell this guy my feelings. I was only 13 and already shy but this made it even worse.

I started to avoid the cool kids and stick to my three friends but that was not helping with the heartbreak. The guy I used to have a crush on made it pretty clear that he did not want anything to do with me. He didn’t give me a chance and I blamed it on myself. Because I was the weird kid with the obsession for cats and books and nobody cared about wether there was something hidden behind it.

After the summer hollidays and at the beginning of 8th grade the mocking and giggling went on but I had already started to ignore it. It was just some background noise that was added to the inner voice that told me, I didn’t deserve him anyway. He was one of the cool kids, he would never go out with a weirdo like me.

When I look back at this today, I would really like to tell all of them to f*ck off. The people who were mocking me when I was 13 were a main cause for my self-esteem to become low and also my confidence. Dear Fabian, thank you for nothing. You told me that the weird girl will never end up with the cool guy just like in the movies, even though you never gave me a chance.

How I broke my own heart - Prolouge

I decided to write down the story of how and why I think, I managed to break my own heart (several times). Every “Episode” is going to be about one person and metaphorically speaking about one crack in my lovelife. If you don’t like what happened or if you don’t agree with me, it’s okay. I can totally understand it and from my current viewpoint I might even agree with you, but I made my mistakes and there is no way to reverse it. The only thing i could do is learn from it.

Pyrophobia - fear of fire

This is one of the fears that has been with me since my childhood. I don’t know what caused it (maybe it started when the house of our neighbors was burning) but since I was a child, I have been afraid of fire. Campfires or the fires in a fireplace weren’t actually scary as long as they were “safe” and/or far away from me. Candles were also no problem. Everything was good until the day my fear of burning because of a source of fire became a reality.

In the autumn of 2017, we had to do some welding at school (which I was scared of months before we even got into doing it) due to a practicum. Before this one day, everything seemed to be going fine, I even got some results even though I was scared as hell of the little explosions that occurred when the metal got too hot. Up to today, I still think this was what caused my jacket to light on fire without me noticing it.

At this point, I might have to mention that the people with glasses wore special goggles over them so the glasses would be protected, too. Those goggles weren’t very good for looking around since there was some weird plastic stuff around every corner of your eyes. I wasn’t able to see anything that was going on under my nose without turning my head so I noticed the strange smell first. It smelled like burnt plastic and I immediately felt alarmed, so I stopped “working” and looked around for a moment. Since I did not see the source of the strange smell but it still was there, I became even more worried. Then I noticed something else: The right side of my ribcage felt oddly warm.

I turned my head and silently cursed my impaired vision when I finally saw small flames on my jacket. If I didn’t wear those damn goggles who did not let me see properly, I might would have noticed the flames earlier. Without even thinking about the consequences, I just slammed my left hand on my ribcage to make the flames die and sat there in shock for a moment. Later on, I noticed a small burn on my finger but everything else (except for the huge burnt spot on my jacket) seemed to be fine. A few people around me also noticed the strange smell and asked me about it and the jacket but I played it down and pretended that it was nothing.

Sadly, this is not the end of this story and also not the end of the welding course. At first, I thought that there were no negative side-effects besides a hurting finger and a hole just as big as a smartphone in a working jacket. Unfortunately, we had to do this whole stuff again a week later.

The process of getting all of the tools to work took me longer than usual and when I sat down and put on the damn goggles, I noticed something odd; there was this smell again. The smell of burnt plastic, even though everything was fixed again and my burner wasn’t even on.  Only the smell alone was able to immediately bring me back to the week before and my heart started racing. I tried to calm down for the sake of keeping the “everything is fine”-attire on but after a few minutes, my heart was still racing and my hands have started shaking violently. Every single sound in the room got louder and made my heart beat even faster.

In slow motions, I put down the piece of metal I was supposed to work on and turned off my burner. It was all getting worse. I took off the goggles and gasped for some air but I couldn’t help myself. Everything got kind of blurry and my whole body was shaking. I knew that I had to get out of this room as soon as possible. Luckily, I was one of the teacher’s favorites so I would have gotten out of the room even without an excuse.

Still shaking, I stood up and stumbled towards the door and the teacher’s desk where I mumbled something from “not feeling so well” and he told me to get out into the hallway and sit next to an open window.

The second I sat down on this small wooden chair next to the open window, I started to cry without even wanting it. I could not stop it, trying to hold it back only made it worse. Later, a friend joined me and made sure I was okay. We sat there for the rest of the lesson and after maybe half of it I stopped crying.

Since this happened, I was always pretending to do some work and even failed the small test piece we had to do on purpose so I wouldn’t have to do this ever again. At first, I was even afraid of lighting a cigarette or a candle, but this got a bit better over time. I think if I ever had to weld something again, I would just ask a professional to help me out.

phobia

  /ˈfəʊ.bi.ə/ noun an extreme fear or dislike of a particular thing or situation, especially one that cannot be reasonably explained

fear

/fɪər/ noun an unpleasant emotion or thought that you have when you are frightened or worried by something dangerous, painful, or bad that is happening or might happen

The Black Notebook

There is this small black notebook that I carry around since a few months. Every time I feel like it, I write in it. The stuff that I write in it differs from time to time; sometimes there are memories, sometimes fears, sometimes thoughts that I have to get out of my head.

Sadly, I am not very consistent with my little black notebook, so I decided to make it digital.

This page is more personal than every talk with a real human being ever was and I am doing this only for myself so if you don’t enjoy it, it’s your thing.