Sosuke
Smash Obsessed
- Joined
- Aug 3, 2007
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Link to original post: [drupal=2043]A chandelier was dropped on my head as a kid[/drupal]
There are two types of reactions people would have to this title.
One would be "lol so he did something dumb, right?". This would be coming from someone who thought I was being witty or something.
The other would be "omg really?!?!". This would be coming from someone either failing to realize that I'm being witty, or just someone who thinks these kinds of titles are serious business.
Usually the first one would be correct in these types of situations.
This time, it's not.
One time, when I was about 7 years old, my dad was taking down the beige chandelier in our house to clean it (or some other random reason). My mother thought it was some sort of spectacle, so she told me to come watch. Let me be as clear as I can be with this:
I. WAS. SCARED. ****LESS.
I've always been a cautious person, especially when there is no form of safety whatsoever. There was no way in hell I was going to go watch that giant glass thing being taken down or whatever. So I said, "NO! It's going to fall!" and tried to go to the other room. My mom grabbed my arm and said, "come on, it'll be fun!". And I'm not even joking. These kinds of things are fun for my mom. So I still refused and tried to go to the other room. So she kept bothering me to come and watch. And this is something my mom STILL does. JUST NAGS. UGH. So I finally just went went back to the room we were in and looked up at my dad attempting to take down the chandelier. OK. So for SOME reason. Some ODD reason. I'm standing directly under it. I have NO IDEA why I was at the moment, but I was. The ceiling must have been short in this room, because I remember that my dad didn't need a chair to do this (my dad isn't really tall or anything). I don't know why he didn't just use a chair. I'm ASSUMING it was too much work to go get one. So my dad can BARELY reach the bolts (or whatever they have to keep these things up), and he could JUST BAAAARLY start to loosen them. As he's doing this, my heart is RACING. Every little squeaking noise the bolts made caused me to shiver a tiny bit. So then he keeps unscrewing and I'm just paying attention. The noise of the bolts unscrewing is the only thing I can hear at this point. So one of the bolts comes loose and my dad has his arm under the chandelier for support. There were 2 bolts holding it up (it was a pretty crappy chandelier). So when the first one finally came out and my dad was basically half the force holding the thing up, I got a little bit more scared. I really didn't doubt my dads strength much. I KNEW he could hold it up. But you always have that TINY bit of doubt in these "trusting" sort of situations. But there must have been some sort of mistake when the chandelier was put up before because the second screw was much, MUCH shorter then the first. Before my dad thought he was halfway done unscrewing, it dropped. My dad CAUGHT it. He BARELY CAUGHT it. But it was such a surprise that he dropped it half a second later because of the lack of support he had under it. So many thoughts were running through my mind at this point. "RUN!" "GO!" "LEFT!" "RIGHT!". But I didn't know what to do. I just stared. It was happening right in front of me and I was just a witness. So the only thing I could think of to do was to look down. And then CRASH! It lander right on my head. The only thing I could remember at that point was that it hurt. It hurt BAD. It was like a siren was constantly going off in my head. I just covered my head. I just had my eyes closed. I could faintly hear noises around me. I didn't know what they were. I didn't care. I just wanted it to stop hurting. I remember being in so much pain for what seemed like forever and it felt like I was in a car that was going over road bumps (I think that this was my mom carrying me). Then I remember having my head under the sick with red-ish water and a few bits of glass directly in my line of sight. I have Hemophobia. My eyes just widened and I just felt sick. There was nothing I could do. I was shivering. I was still holding onto my head and my mom was washing my head clean of the blood. I let go. I was just quiet. I didn't move. I didn't think. I was just there. I was just wanting and waiting for the pain to go away. I just wanted it to end. So my mom eventually got done washing my head. And put a towel over my head and started slowly trying to dry my hair. Then my mom took me to my room and I just slept there for a few hours. And that's it. I didn't go to the hospital. I didn't acquire any long term problems (I think). I was lucky. And that's all.
That's the story.
Now this is the stupid thing I learned eventually:
So it's been a while since this has happened. Believe it or not, my mom lies to me about it. She says the thing didn't even hit me. She says it landed on the table in front of me (THERE WAS NO FREAKING TABLE), and that she covered my eyes when the glass flew out at us. BULL. ****. She ALWAYS lies. She ALWAYS denies stuff. She NEVER thinks that I'd acquire the mental stamina that would be required to remember such drastic events. She never thinks that I would consider her word something other then a fact. A law. BS. I clearly remember. My dad remembers. And she still denies it. She does this with EVERYTHING. And she thinks I'll just BELIEVE that most of my former pets SOMEHOW escaped their respective cages/ homes and SOMEHOW got out of the LOCKED house mysteriously. I once spent FIVE HOUSE looking for my first ever pet (a tiny bird) that has "left it's cage and escaped the house". The LOCKED house. FIVE. HOURS. The house with NO EXITS other then the closed off doors. She expects me to just believe that. The worst part was that I did. I just kept looking for him. I felt like it was my fault it got away. Who else was to blame? My pet=my responsibility. As I've matured, I've found that there was NO way that this could happen. Ever. There was no chimney. There were no windows that we would ever open. The sad thing is, she STILL does this. Up until a few months ago, our family had a pet rabbit. Yes, a rabbit. SHUT UP I LIKE THEM. Anyway, I would always take care of "Fuzzy" (YES, GENERIC NAME GET OVER IT. BLAH), and I would always make sure everything way OK with him and that he'd get to run around in the back yard, have a good amount of food/water, pet him from time to time, etc. etc. So one day I get home and I go to the backyard to give Fuzzy some food/ pet him for a little while. He's not there. The cage door is open and he's not there. So I'm just looking around all over the place and trying to find him. I KNOW he wouldn't leave. My brother has accidentally left the backyard gate open NUMEROUS times and he has NEVER left the backyard. I knew for a FACT that he wouldn't run away. Despite this, I spend almost an hour combing a two block perimeter around my house. I can't find him. I had him for over 3 years, and he's just gone. Just like that. So of course I was sort of upset. I wasn't crying or anything, but losing a pet you've had for a while is a really crappy feeling. After a while, I just got mad. I go up to my mom and just straight up ask her "Did you give him away?". Of course she said no. So a week or two goes by, and I can't help but feel like I was wronged. The more time passed, the more I knew she was lying. There was NO WAY Fuzzy would just leave the house like that. ESPECIALLY SINCE THE FREAKING BACKYARD GATE WAS CLOSED THAT DAY. AND LOCKED. So as she was driving my home from the doctor one day, I couldn't take it anymore. I ask her. "Did he really run away? Did you REALLY not give him back?". So then she told me the truth. She said "she knows how I am with these things". Which is what, bad? How does she know? She never tells me the truth. I hate being lied to. It's always been a talent of mine to know when someone is lying to me. It feels SO MUCH WORSE being lied to then being told a painful truth. So she told me about how she gave him to the pet shelter. About how some nice white family adopted him. "Some nice white family". And she really believed that. Right. RIGHT. OF COURSE THEY'RE NICE. WHAT ELSE WOULD THE PET SHELTER TELL YOU?!? They're mean?? They treat animals badly?? Of course not! How naive can be?!
I don't understand
how you can live for multiple years longer then me
and be so
...
I'm not going to say it, but you know what I mean.
It's just.
So. Very. Frustrating. Especially since she has authority over me. And of course she doesn't want me to move out the second I turn 18. But you know what? I don't care. In a few months I'll be 18 and I'll be out of here.
TL;DR: I get hurt and also why I never listen to my mother.
I just felt like sharing this. Idk why. But freaking mom.
There are two types of reactions people would have to this title.
One would be "lol so he did something dumb, right?". This would be coming from someone who thought I was being witty or something.
The other would be "omg really?!?!". This would be coming from someone either failing to realize that I'm being witty, or just someone who thinks these kinds of titles are serious business.
Usually the first one would be correct in these types of situations.
This time, it's not.
One time, when I was about 7 years old, my dad was taking down the beige chandelier in our house to clean it (or some other random reason). My mother thought it was some sort of spectacle, so she told me to come watch. Let me be as clear as I can be with this:
I. WAS. SCARED. ****LESS.
I've always been a cautious person, especially when there is no form of safety whatsoever. There was no way in hell I was going to go watch that giant glass thing being taken down or whatever. So I said, "NO! It's going to fall!" and tried to go to the other room. My mom grabbed my arm and said, "come on, it'll be fun!". And I'm not even joking. These kinds of things are fun for my mom. So I still refused and tried to go to the other room. So she kept bothering me to come and watch. And this is something my mom STILL does. JUST NAGS. UGH. So I finally just went went back to the room we were in and looked up at my dad attempting to take down the chandelier. OK. So for SOME reason. Some ODD reason. I'm standing directly under it. I have NO IDEA why I was at the moment, but I was. The ceiling must have been short in this room, because I remember that my dad didn't need a chair to do this (my dad isn't really tall or anything). I don't know why he didn't just use a chair. I'm ASSUMING it was too much work to go get one. So my dad can BARELY reach the bolts (or whatever they have to keep these things up), and he could JUST BAAAARLY start to loosen them. As he's doing this, my heart is RACING. Every little squeaking noise the bolts made caused me to shiver a tiny bit. So then he keeps unscrewing and I'm just paying attention. The noise of the bolts unscrewing is the only thing I can hear at this point. So one of the bolts comes loose and my dad has his arm under the chandelier for support. There were 2 bolts holding it up (it was a pretty crappy chandelier). So when the first one finally came out and my dad was basically half the force holding the thing up, I got a little bit more scared. I really didn't doubt my dads strength much. I KNEW he could hold it up. But you always have that TINY bit of doubt in these "trusting" sort of situations. But there must have been some sort of mistake when the chandelier was put up before because the second screw was much, MUCH shorter then the first. Before my dad thought he was halfway done unscrewing, it dropped. My dad CAUGHT it. He BARELY CAUGHT it. But it was such a surprise that he dropped it half a second later because of the lack of support he had under it. So many thoughts were running through my mind at this point. "RUN!" "GO!" "LEFT!" "RIGHT!". But I didn't know what to do. I just stared. It was happening right in front of me and I was just a witness. So the only thing I could think of to do was to look down. And then CRASH! It lander right on my head. The only thing I could remember at that point was that it hurt. It hurt BAD. It was like a siren was constantly going off in my head. I just covered my head. I just had my eyes closed. I could faintly hear noises around me. I didn't know what they were. I didn't care. I just wanted it to stop hurting. I remember being in so much pain for what seemed like forever and it felt like I was in a car that was going over road bumps (I think that this was my mom carrying me). Then I remember having my head under the sick with red-ish water and a few bits of glass directly in my line of sight. I have Hemophobia. My eyes just widened and I just felt sick. There was nothing I could do. I was shivering. I was still holding onto my head and my mom was washing my head clean of the blood. I let go. I was just quiet. I didn't move. I didn't think. I was just there. I was just wanting and waiting for the pain to go away. I just wanted it to end. So my mom eventually got done washing my head. And put a towel over my head and started slowly trying to dry my hair. Then my mom took me to my room and I just slept there for a few hours. And that's it. I didn't go to the hospital. I didn't acquire any long term problems (I think). I was lucky. And that's all.
That's the story.
Now this is the stupid thing I learned eventually:
So it's been a while since this has happened. Believe it or not, my mom lies to me about it. She says the thing didn't even hit me. She says it landed on the table in front of me (THERE WAS NO FREAKING TABLE), and that she covered my eyes when the glass flew out at us. BULL. ****. She ALWAYS lies. She ALWAYS denies stuff. She NEVER thinks that I'd acquire the mental stamina that would be required to remember such drastic events. She never thinks that I would consider her word something other then a fact. A law. BS. I clearly remember. My dad remembers. And she still denies it. She does this with EVERYTHING. And she thinks I'll just BELIEVE that most of my former pets SOMEHOW escaped their respective cages/ homes and SOMEHOW got out of the LOCKED house mysteriously. I once spent FIVE HOUSE looking for my first ever pet (a tiny bird) that has "left it's cage and escaped the house". The LOCKED house. FIVE. HOURS. The house with NO EXITS other then the closed off doors. She expects me to just believe that. The worst part was that I did. I just kept looking for him. I felt like it was my fault it got away. Who else was to blame? My pet=my responsibility. As I've matured, I've found that there was NO way that this could happen. Ever. There was no chimney. There were no windows that we would ever open. The sad thing is, she STILL does this. Up until a few months ago, our family had a pet rabbit. Yes, a rabbit. SHUT UP I LIKE THEM. Anyway, I would always take care of "Fuzzy" (YES, GENERIC NAME GET OVER IT. BLAH), and I would always make sure everything way OK with him and that he'd get to run around in the back yard, have a good amount of food/water, pet him from time to time, etc. etc. So one day I get home and I go to the backyard to give Fuzzy some food/ pet him for a little while. He's not there. The cage door is open and he's not there. So I'm just looking around all over the place and trying to find him. I KNOW he wouldn't leave. My brother has accidentally left the backyard gate open NUMEROUS times and he has NEVER left the backyard. I knew for a FACT that he wouldn't run away. Despite this, I spend almost an hour combing a two block perimeter around my house. I can't find him. I had him for over 3 years, and he's just gone. Just like that. So of course I was sort of upset. I wasn't crying or anything, but losing a pet you've had for a while is a really crappy feeling. After a while, I just got mad. I go up to my mom and just straight up ask her "Did you give him away?". Of course she said no. So a week or two goes by, and I can't help but feel like I was wronged. The more time passed, the more I knew she was lying. There was NO WAY Fuzzy would just leave the house like that. ESPECIALLY SINCE THE FREAKING BACKYARD GATE WAS CLOSED THAT DAY. AND LOCKED. So as she was driving my home from the doctor one day, I couldn't take it anymore. I ask her. "Did he really run away? Did you REALLY not give him back?". So then she told me the truth. She said "she knows how I am with these things". Which is what, bad? How does she know? She never tells me the truth. I hate being lied to. It's always been a talent of mine to know when someone is lying to me. It feels SO MUCH WORSE being lied to then being told a painful truth. So she told me about how she gave him to the pet shelter. About how some nice white family adopted him. "Some nice white family". And she really believed that. Right. RIGHT. OF COURSE THEY'RE NICE. WHAT ELSE WOULD THE PET SHELTER TELL YOU?!? They're mean?? They treat animals badly?? Of course not! How naive can be?!
I don't understand
how you can live for multiple years longer then me
and be so
...
I'm not going to say it, but you know what I mean.
It's just.
So. Very. Frustrating. Especially since she has authority over me. And of course she doesn't want me to move out the second I turn 18. But you know what? I don't care. In a few months I'll be 18 and I'll be out of here.
TL;DR: I get hurt and also why I never listen to my mother.
I just felt like sharing this. Idk why. But freaking mom.
