Rememberment, Chapter XXXIV: Growing Pains

Elementary school was over, and so was the summer. It was time to join the Big League - secondary school.

My parents weren't very happy with my grades from my recent school years; my average had dropped by one full point. It still wasn't terrible, but they had higher expectations. "You need to do better in order to get to the upper secondary school" said Mom, who seemed to take it for granted that that's where I was heading. She wanted me to become a doctor or enter some other prestigious profession.

But I had started to not only become more depressed, I also had frequent periods of being angry and frustrated at just about everything. I didn't give two shits about my grades or what my parents wanted me to become. Also, our new school didn't make it any better; it looked more like a prison than a school, and felt like one too. I also hated the school cafeteria (the whole concept of having a hundred people sitting and eating right next to each other is something I still find very uncomfortable) and so I usually just skipped lunch there altogether, which probably didn't help my mood.

Clearly, I was entering puberty.

I still didn't pick fights with my parents - I did witness some of my friends doing that, and perhaps I felt like it too sometimes, but I just didn't have the same urge (or courage) to rise up against my mom and dad. My rebellion was a quieter one, but against an authority figure nevertheless: I stopped praying and talking to God. It might not sound like a big deal, but it was something I had been doing for my whole life.

Dad also noticed that my attitude towards religion had changed, and it seemed to make him desperate to try and steer me back onto the right track. That didn't help, though; it only served to make me more anxious. I had also started to listen to rock music, which prompted Dad to have me listen to a tape he had gotten from the Free Church. On the tape, a man's voice explained how rock songs contained hidden, satanic messages one could hear when the songs were played backwards. The man also claimed that our brains were wired to receive those messages subconsciously, even if our conscious mind couldn't pick them up. I really wasn't sure if that was even a real thing, but somehow I didn't even care. Satanic or not, I enjoyed the tunes.

I had physical problems to deal with, too. My posture was awful and my back started to hurt as I was growing taller, which my parents told me was most likely the result of me spending too much time sitting on the computer, drawing and reading books. My eyesight was also rapidly getting worse, which they blamed on those same things. Soon I got my first pair of eyeglasses, much to the amusement of my fellow classmates. I didn't appreciate them laughing at me, so I soon started to wear my glasses only during class and at home. 

Moreover, my sinuses were constantly getting infected. Having them rinsed at the doctor was so common that I soon got used to it, even though the procedure was quite unpleasant - it included puncturing my sinus cartilage with a thick needle, and there was always an audible crunch when the needle went through. Eventually, the cartilage got so thick that the doctors started having trouble getting through it. The procedure still wasn't nearly as bad as having my eardrums punctured when I was younger, so at least there was that.

There was something positive to look forward to, at least: my parents started talking about extending the house, which would allow me to have a room for myself. That sounded almost too good to be true.