I keep trying to remember and fill in the black holes of my life that I have lost. I don’t know why I’m so obsessed with figuring out who I am, what made me who I am, and how I came to this place in life. It’s not a bad place to be, so why does it trouble me so much to remember?

Maybe what I’ve lost are bad memories and I shouldn’t pursue them. Maybe I’ll be happier not knowing. Maybe, who I am right now is more important than who I was? Maybe all of these maybes are driving me mad!

I instant messaged a friend last night because her smile was so engaging. I thought I must know her well because I was drawn to her like a magnet. She couldn’t believe that I didn’t remember much about her. I told her I read about hitting my head, so that may be why I couldn’t remember much. She must have fallen asleep at her keyboard, because she was typing and just stopped. I got my pictures down & my high school yearbooks to find her. There she was, flaunting that same engaging smile. As I flipped through the book, a note fell out. It was her handwriting. Studying the bubbly circles and loops, I began to remember a little. 

I remember she was always smiling. She was outgoing, witty, and great at conversation, but terrible at writing, so I wrote her English papers. She befriended everyone and anyone. She could strike up a conversation with a random stranger. I remember she was the first female friend I had ever trusted. She was genuine and it never occurred to her to be fake. I remember this is why I liked her. She was truly the first female best friend I had ever made. 

Evidently being raised around mostly men, I’m assuming I had trust issues with women. Maybe I still do? Women are fake by nature. I’ve noticed this just since hitting my head. Perhaps I’ve always felt this way?

What causes a woman to lie about little things that are not necessary to lie about? They lie to each other & SMILE while they do it.
Just the other day, I heard a woman tell another that she looked great in her outfit. The complimented lady was embarrassed by such an unexpected comment, face reddened a little, then she graciously thanked her, turned and left. Once the other woman was gone, the compliment giving woman turned on the lady while speaking to another woman. “Oh my God, can you believe she’s wearing that dress? Her butt looks huge. People like that should dress in their size, not their children’s.” The other woman replied, “I know! Did you see her hair? Her face is too fat for that haircut. Her double chin is, like, huge now!”

At first, I had a flash back of high school, then it occurred to me that these women were bred this way. Will a tiger never change its stripes?
From what I can remember, a lot of the women I have met were “nice” to each other’s faces, but ripped each other to shreds once their backs were turned. Why?
I’ve witnessed this a lot recently. It’s not only confined to appearances. This mindset is wide spread, covering discounting someone’s accomplishments, clothing, make up– to when another woman speaks. It festers, bleeds, and spreads like a virus among women.

Could this primal rage instinct come from the constant comparisons that are made of little girls to Barbies, models, or each others accomplishments? Are girls taught that to be worthy of something great in life, they must stomp out the competition? Do parents realize the consequences of the learned behaviors their children adapt from observation?

I’m a parent & by no means am I perfect. I’m sure my boys are as twisted as the next. My intentions are not to come across as hypocritical. These are just thoughts flowing through my mind as I strive to recover my memories and remember why I am who I am.

I have to say, it does sadden me.

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