There was once this place called “the real world” where, when you looked up, you would see clouds in a blue sky. Or a vast sea of stars. There was a sea. There were beaches and you could walk barefoot on those beaches and feel the warmth of the sand between your toes. There were forests and trees and brooks and rivers. And mountains. And flowers and bees. And the sound of bees buzzing a beautiful symphony at dusk.
That was a weird experience. As the years go by my fear from that experience lessens. I have almost kind of forgotten about it. The memory of it feels like a fuzzy dream.
I wrote a blog post about the experience later on that day. I wasn’t injured at all. I was very very lucky, considering I bounced off of the hood of the car.
I often think of the idea of “story construction” because of this experience.
After I was taken to the hospital I needed a ride home from the hospital. I can’t remember how it came about that my mom picked me up and why I couldn’t call her myself to ask her. But the next day I was checking my phone messages and she’d left me a message on my phone after she found out that I was hit and in the hospital to tell me she was on her way. She left a message that was not completely hysterical and then something odd happened. She didn’t hang up. She didn’t realize this though. So the rest of her drive to the hospital was her conversation with my step-dad as they drove to the hospital. It was fascinating to listen to. She re-created the whole story in her mind. Reconstructed it into something else. As she imagined what happened her voice became more worried and hysterical.
I think about this a lot when I think about the stories we create everyday about everything. Usually the story we create has nothing to do with reality.
I wrote this post on November 19th, 2009. Today I was reminded of this childhood experience and thought I’d repost.
When I was in 3rd grade, one afternoon on the playground, the girls in my class formed the, “I hate Carol club.” I’m not sure why. Carol was a friend of ours. We all hung out with her regularly. I think there might have been a fight between Carol and another girl and the other girl decided to form this club behind Carol’s back. Somehow, like sheep, we were convinced that we needed to form this group because Carol was a horrible person and needed to be shunned.
Or maybe we were afaid of being shunned ourselves and went along with it.
Regardless, I remember thinking the whole thing was dumb. I knew that Carol felt bad, playing on the playground by herself. I was sure that she could see the sneers of her female classmates and I’m sure it made her sad.
I had an idea. I told the other girls that I would be a spy for them. This way I could still be friends with Carol and also be friends with the “I hate Carol club” girls.
I thought this was such a great idea at the time. But in retrospect I wish I would have had the guts to tell these girls how mean they were being.
It’s crazy, the things kids will do to fit in.
In the end, Carol and this other girl made up and all was right with our group again. And if I recall correctly, this all took place during the after-lunch recess one day.
This memory popped into my head today after reading about some online drama. Yeah. This shit still happens, even when we are adults.