But Teacher, I Am Trying (My Best)

This one goes out to all of those “overthinkers” out there
And this goes out to those who sit with their personal plagues and overthink their way into quitting before they even begin –

Write on, Poet.
This is my best advice

I’m not too sure
But I think I thought you said
that you think
I think too much

And do you know what I thought
when you said that?

I think I thought
that maybe you think too much
or maybe I was thinking too much
about life as an overthinking
and then I thought—well?

Maybe this is true.

Such is life under the microscope, and such are the problems when we try to zoom in too close, to get a closer look.
Actually, wait –
Come to think of it, —I got in trouble for something like tis when I was young.
I remember this well.
I was trying too hard I science class.
And I got in trouble for this too.

We all had our own microscopes. We all had our own glass slides with some kind of cell that we were supposed to identify.
But I?
No.
I could not see the cells and nor was I seeing what other classmates told me they were seeing.
So, I zoomed in closer to see what I was missing, —and then I zoomed in some more because I still could not see what the other kids were seeing. And then I zoomed in even closer until I heard the glass version of something go, “Snap!”

I adjusted the focus too much and pushed the lens down too far and guess what?
I broke the slide.
I was yelled at for this.
And I was yelled at because it was safely assumed that I was just being a wise ass, —and yes, I use the words “safely assumed” because my usual routine was not one that portrayed me as an interested student.
I suppose my Teacher assumed I was trying to get out of doing the work, and if this had been any other day, maybe he might have been right. But no.
I always wondered, what if this was a pivotal moment?
What of this was something that might have triggered a different sense and changed the way I viewed school?
But no, this turned out to be more of the same

Something that needs to be mentioned here is that one thing is not equal to all things.
Inspiration to change can come at any given moment.
In fact, I was interested this time.
But like the boy who cried wolf, my reputation proceeded me and thus, I found my to the assistant principal’s office but chose differently and simply left school for the rest of the day.
Why not?
Why bother?
Me being as I was could never be smart or good enough anyway . . .
right?

I have to say that yes, my eagerness to see or be “part of” is more than I speak about.
I would have rather been comfortable in school or at minimum, I would have been fine as long as I saw what the other kids saw in that science class.
But I was not comfortable and no matter how I tried, I did not see what the other kids saw.

I think I thought you think too much. . .

I lived with the idea that I am always missing out on something. Or I swore that I am always going to be the last one to get the joke.
Or even worse, my biggest fear is to later find out and that one day, I will come to realize that I was the punchline and actually; the joke was on me.
Nothing could be worse than this.

Have you ever heard of a stereogram or an autostereogram?

These are pictures with hidden pictures inside of them. And you’d have to look carefully to find the hidden images.
And if you struggled with this, you heard things like, “you have to stare at the middle,” or “you have to relax your eyes,” and to be honest, I can’t tell whether my eyes are relaxed or not.
And to be more honest, I don’t know how to relax my eyes.
What does that even mean?
My eyes have always done what they’ve done for me before.
Or more to the point, my eyes just sit there in my head to which; I get it.
Here lies another problem because much of my faults and flaws and my so-called “magnified problems” are always “in my head.”
Well?
Where else would they be?

My eyes see what they see or moreover, in this case, my eyes often don’t see what I want them to see.

I have never been good at stereograms.
No matter what the angle is or how I stare or “relax my eyes,” I never see the picture in the picture.
Never . . .
I offer this more as an analogy to understand my younger challenges as a student.
I offer this as a way to understand life with social anxiety, clinical, and situational, and this is offered to help understand my type of medicated resistant depression that ranges from moderate to severe.
This was always my problem and thus, my thoughts were predesigned.
I was always worried or on-guard because in my best assumptions; I believed that I was born with an otherwise inept sense of judgment. I was not smart enough or good enough and nor was I good looking enough or valuable enough to be involved or included.

As a student, I assumed that I matched the labels which were given to me. And thus, I assumed that at my personal best; I would never be anything more than emotionally disturbed or learning disabled.

I believed that I was stupid and that at best, I would always be stupid, —and so, when you’re stupid, there are fears that I will always “miss out” or that I will never be “enough” or at minimum, I will never see the picture inside the picture.
I never wanted this.
I wanted to be good enough to be wanted or loved or cared for by anyone.
I never wanted to appear like I was hopeless or lost.
I have always wanted to be enough to someone who sees me and regards me without pity or some kind of preconceived notion and a subsequential finding. And I say this because my fears told me that once it was known and once I was “seen,” then I’d be seen as small, and incapable, or constitutionally delayed and only fit to live life at a certain level.

Who wants to be like this?
No one.

I think I remembered when you thought
I was brilliant,
but on second thought
I remember thinking
that you thought nothing more about me
and that all you thought
all you heard about me was true
I think.

And maybe some of what you heard about me is true
Maybe I never see the picture inside of the picture and no matter how I “relax” my eyes, I struggle to see things clearly.
I struggle to see things, no matter how close I zoom in.

And sure, I was called stupid.
I was called a lot worse.
I was called a waste of space.
I was told that everybody hates me.
I was told that I should do the world a favor,
and fall off a cliff, —and I was told these thigs by someone I loved
And for a better measure, I loved this person both deeply ad truly.
Or even better, I loved this person as true and as honestly as someone with my so-called “capacity” could love a anyone.
I suppose we all fall for someone’s lies in this life. And sometimes, we are the brunt of their jokes or the punchline.
I get that now.

I often go back to the erratic maze and the insecure labyrinths of my uncomfortable youth.
Much of my early storage has had me up at nights, contemplating whether I am deserving or worthy or not.

I think I thought that maybe,
I needed to think more carefully
o clearly
because otherwise, “someone like me”
could hardly think clearly enough
to navigate their way down the halls
of my “special needs” classrooms . . .

For the record, yes.
I have always had a hard time in classroom settings.
I have never felt comfortable with teachers or tests.
My anxiety climbs to dangerous levels when I walk into classrooms.
I hate this
And I’ve literally run to the bathroom to throw up and vomit because my anxiety was so brutal.
Yes, This is me.

I understand what it feels like when the highbrow bullies and the social and educational snobs look down their nose or roll their eyes.
And I know how it feels to be “left out” or to be the one who cannot see the picture
(inside the big picture)

This is the funny part –

There are times when I have to take continuing educational classes for my credentials.
I hate this,
And I have to study.
But I never do.
I have to take tests and I have to pass them, to which, I always assume that I am going to fail.

So, then . . .
Why bother?
Right?
Why study?

I’ve always known that it was just a matter of time before the rest of the world sees that I am not smart, that I am just an imposter, or that all the talking was just my little trick, and now, my secret’s been pulled.
Oh, shit . . .

I had to take a test last month . . .
I said goodbye to my co-workers before leaving to take my exam, as if I was about to be fired.
I even told someone how ill-prepared I was and that I will probably fail.
I shrugged this off ad said, “I’ll probably have to take the tests again.”
“Either that, or they’ll just fire me.”

Right?

Wrong—

I think I thought I think too much
And yes, this is true.

I was asked, “But Benny, if you didn’t know anything or you didn’t know what you were doing, then how did you pass the test without studying and get, like, NOTHING WRONG?”

This is the bitch about being an overthinker.
This is the bitch about imposter syndrome too.

I think I thought you said
all of this is in my head.
and do you want to know what I think?
I think you’re right . . .

Maybe I see more than I think
or maybe I know more than I thought.

I still hate classrooms.
I never liked the feelings I had when walking in the door and seeing the desks
I had teachers that used to tell me that I was stupid.
I was told that I’d be lucky to get a job pumping gas or digging ditches.

I swear, classrooms make me nervous
even when I am the one who was hired to give college lectures.
Pretty funny, right?

Dear Mr. Day.

You were wrong about me.
And I’m sorry that you never had the chance to dance at my grave.
Or piss on it, like you said.
But to be fair to your assumptions about my future,
I had a few predictions to prove wrong
and yours . . .
yours was the smallest of them all
“Big guy!”