About two weeks ago during fencing practice, for a warm up, we were playing a jump rope game. It doesn’t sound too bad. One coach held the jump rope on each end, and together, they swung it in a circle motion, asking the fencers to run under it, and jump.
That scares me.
So I chose not to participate, yet the coaches didn’t realize my fear for things flying at my face, so they tried to force me into it. I refused multiple times, stating that I didn’t like things flying at my face. Maybe I didn’t say it emphatically enough because they were relentless about me participating in the warm up. It got to a point where I felt I had lost my right to do what I chose to do. My words were just words, carelessly tossed away as a joke to those coaches. You can imagine how that went considering my fiery, yet delicate temper.
***
In third grade, we went a field trip to Plymouth Plantation. On the ride there, I was sitting with my best friend on the seat. Behind us, a pair of boys were playing with their seatbelts, swinging them around and around. My friend and I were vexed because the seat belts kept slapping the back of our seats, so we turned around to tell them to stop. Sitting on the aisle seat, I looked around the side to tell them, when the still flying seatbelt came crashing into my right eye. I remember feeling a surge of hot pain in my right eye, the kind of feeling that burns so much tears disappear. That field trip ended for me there, because as soon as the bus arrived at Plymouth, my dad was called, and he drove me to Boston Children’s for an eye checkup. The corner of my right eye was a sickly bloodshot red for at least two-three weeks. Although I was slightly nearsighted anyway, my right eye became 25 degrees worse than my left.
I remember having to take school photos [yes, I was in the photo with a bloody eyeball], and this whole scenario being a muddle of random things that added up to one of worst and scariest events that’s happened to me.
And that’s why I didn’t want to participate in the fencing warm up.
That event is a scar that has been left on me, and things flying in my face has been added onto a list of Things I’m Scared Of. Protecting my head has been added onto a list of priorities, and going to the eye doctor has become a nightmare. I suppose our scars are what makes each of us unique, like our pet peeves. They shape our personalities, and each scar tells a different story. I suppose this story is somewhat unique to me, being hit in the eye with a seat belt, and even though it scares me, it is something that has been imprinted on me. A suppose there’s not much to do except recognize that.
Other things that scare me:
- SPIDERS!!!!!
- Lots of hair loss [I have a story for that later as well]
- Bad guys chasing me [I have tons of dreams about being chased]
No comments:
Post a Comment