The 'real' me...
It has been so many years since we have all been together in the same room, thus I am not the usual loud mouth jokester/jester, I am when with my friends. I say I am just more quiet now, which is a ridiciculously false description of me, because I talk way too much sometimes-most times, which is precisely why we haven’t been in a room together in so long. I know what it is to be in a room where one person doesn’t ‘like’ me or care neither for me nor for what I have to say, and it’s uncomfortable at best. However, when you’re in a room filled with people that you were told merely ‘tolerate’ you, it’s difficult to know what to feel, let alone what to say or not to say, do or not do. Thus, I shut down entirely-not wanting to cause drama or say the wrong thing, I say nothing…much.
“You shut down entirely.” My brother all but scolded me. “Where’s the sarcasm, the wit, the smart ass, story teller? Where the hell did the real Raquel go?”
The ‘real’ Raquel…such a good question, one I wish I had an answer for/to. The ‘real Raquel’ always seems to get me in trouble, whether I say too much or too little, share TMI, which is generally done…frequently done, so I have a tendency to have my foot in my mouth much of the time and given that, I don’t want to hurt or irritate my loved ones. I know I am better in small doses, which is unfortunate for my family, at least the ones that live with me, hell, I wish I could get away from me too sometimes, I just can’t.
It won’t always be this way, or feel this awkward; I tell my brother and myself. It’s just going to take some time, that we are family (blood related) complicates things, but I have not lost hope for us. Families go through some shit, we are no different, and we have been through a lot of it. I don’t know if we will ever be close or know what it is to be in the same room where an argument does not ensue, or drama doesn’t unfold or play out. I don’t know if we will ever be able to laugh, joke, or poke fun of one another without someone feeling hurt, insulted, judged, ridiculed, offended, belittled, and or criticized. I am highly sensitive, and because I often get my feelings hurt I tend to hide those feelings behind my sarcasm, and it is my sarcasm that in turn, that generally causes the problem.
I have been the source of much debate and contention, for not everyone enjoys or takes pleasure in my company, thinks I am fun or funny, or cares to hear what I have to say. As I stated before, I am better in small doses, too much time in my company is not good for anyone, not even me; I am self aware enough to realize this, and thankfully I have many loved ones that see past it and love me anyway. They accept that I am often loud, obnoxious, and sarcastic, at times, foul mouthed, and have a tendency to say/talk too much…especially when I am nervous or uncomfortable. I hear myself talking too much and I tell myself to shut up, feeling utterly foolish and embarrassed, I keep going-it’s a vicious cycle really, one I hope to break.
Writing seems to be the one thing that helps, it forces me to look inward, look, see, and recognize and often point out my flaws and idiosyncrasies. I poke fun of them and of me, before anyone else does or can, it’s the only way I know how to feel comfortable in my own skin, my own life and it’s the only way in which I find hope-by utilizing humor to detach and or deflect the hurtful things that have been said about be and to me. Much of what my family and I have experienced and or endured is not or does not seem funny, or is recognized as humorous, and it wasn’t/isn’t, when we were going through it-no one likes to be the butt of a joke or a punch line, but I’d rather be that than be a martyr or have anyone feel sorry or take pity on me.
My story is no more or less tragic than anyone else’s, I don’t have a fatal disease, just an incurable one. Nevertheless, I’m more blessed and thankful for my life, my family, friends, and loved ones than any one person deserves or is worthy of-but I’ll take it. I often say, do, and write the ‘wrong’ thing, and I am wildly inappropriate, that is the ‘real’ Raquel. As to whether or not everyone accepts that or likes that, seems to be the real question. Do they or don’t they, will they or won’t they? It makes no difference-I am who I am…it is what it is, the only difference is I have learned some restraint, not much, but enough to avoid a confrontation or argument. Though, I won’t be bullied or pushed around, nor will I stand or sit idly by when and or if someone else feels they or their character is being attacked or insulted either. This is me…‘Raquestionable’ at best.