gingerscrossing-blog

[gingerscrossing-blog]

That feeling when you tried really hard but it didn't work out and you're just falling apart and you don't wanna do this anymore because it hurts so much and you're trying to convince yourself it'll be ok you can try again but right now it just hurts too much to get about of bed let alone try again or make a new plan

[gingerscrossing-blog]

I've only been home from college 2 weeks and my own parents have made me cry more than fall and spring semester did combined.

[gingerscrossing-blog]

On FFA Ribbons and Other Fucked Up Memories

Story time:

I recently removed all my ribbons, newspaper clippings, plaques, and other awards and their accompanying paraphernalia from their spot tacked up on my wall. Four and one quarter years worth of completions and conventions taken down in twenty minutes. Fifty one months of my life devoted to an organization that I grew to love because I loved the competitions and trips and even the really stupid team building exercises. And in was good at it. I won’t lie, there were plenty of participation ribbons, but there was some things I was really proud of achieving.

Now they are bitter reminders. Lots of shit went down during the last year of my involvement. To the point where I actively avoid my old advisor and other chapter members because there is most defiantly bad blood. “Shit got fucked up” doesn’t really convey how things happened though. Over ten months, it became that silent kind of fighting where people whisper behind each others back ’s and deliberately miscommunicate information that girls are really good at. It became me and my best friend against our advisor. Lines were drawn and sides taken, leaving Nina and I without allies and heavily outnumbered. Battles flared up over the most innocent mistakes and going home to cry into my pillow was a weekly ritual. It was war and we surrendered. We quit going to meetings and skipped competions and field trips, covering with thin lies and excuses until we were suddenly not in group photos and heard about activities second or third hand. We bowed down to Mrs. Jones’s iron rule and bent until we broke. I’m not even mad anymore, I’m just sad that a really important part of my life was ripped away because we were nasty to each other. I can’t even think of any good memories associated with FFA anymore, just the last bitter ones.

I used to be really proud of my achievements, but for the last ten months, every time I looked at them I could only see fucked up relationships and remember leaving on bad terms. I finally put all those poisonous memories in a Jack Daniels summer sampler box and labelled it “FFA Ribbons and Other Fucked Up Memories.”