Just me.

"What matters in literature in the end is surely the idiosyncratic, the individual, the flavour or the colour of a particular human suffering."

- Harold Bloom

I just spent 15 minutes on Google looking up how to write a self-introduction on a blog. Then I decided that—as with all things—if I want to get it done right by me, I should just do it... by myself.

So here goes.

Who am I?

I'm Charlotte. Nice to meet you, whoever you are on the other end of this post. As I'm writing this, I'm on my last month as a 24 year old (what a year it's been). Beyond the name and the picture, which tells you the obvious (I'm a girl, I have a resting bitch face, blah blah blah, etc.), I am, in short, a complex person—made and constantly evolving through experiences, and further defined by interests.

In the study of Psychology, as far as personality goes, I relate more to nurture theories rather than nature; every significant experience in my 24 years of living and breathing on Earth—from relationships and interactions, to school life and work life—has shaped me in ways big and small to be the person I am today. My current and future experiences would serve the same purpose.

It would be impossible to sum it all up in one introduction post, so every bit of my life that I have to share here is like a piece of a puzzle (or horcrux lel).

To start off, I don't think that I can tell you who I am and why I am the way I am without first talking about the biggest piece of the puzzle:

My family and my bad blood with my mother.

At this point, when people ask me about my family, I would say: I belong to an upper middle-class family of four; the younger sister to a brother who is currently working hard in the UK, and the daughter to a pair of wonderful, loving and quirky parents.

But all families have their skeletons, and the above is a far cry from what I would have told people 2-3 years back.

In my youth, I'd always felt like I was the black sheep of the family, and the lesser liked one. My family members' (my mother's, mostly) behaviour toward me on many occasions often served as affirmations of that point. Mum and Dad were strict, and I remember envying friends who would tell heartwarming stories of their great experiences with their families, because I felt like I had none.

My mother's disapproval and disdain for me became a constant source of pressure. Much like those pesky hair bands would if you stretched them too much for too long, I acted out and snapped more and more as I got older. I didn't like my mother's rules and my father's life mantra: keep your mum happy and the whole family will be happy. I fought back hard. Like 'hey, since you think I'm a disappointment, let me show you how much of a disappointment I can be.'

...YAYAYA I WAS A REBELLIOUS, EMO KID LOL :'D

Joke aside, there were some deep-seated issues that I had with my mother and her methods. She had her good moods and days when she would really be awesome, but she was very explosive and violent when she didn't.

Exhibit A: Good Mood - Would talk to me about things like my pets, EDM, Game of Thrones, and just generally stuff that I'm really really interested and invested in so that she can get to know me more, and that means a great deal to me, because it's so rare.

Exhibit B: Foul Mood - Would LITERALLY throw chairs at me because her wireless keyboard ran out of battery and stopped working, but she thought I had screwed around with it.

... I know right.

She also really, honestly made me feel like whatever I did wouldn't be enough for her. Several times, upon receiving fantastic results (top of class, honour roll, high distinctions, etc), she'd almost never offer any words of praise (not that I expected any, just at least don't piss on my party), and instead she'd make some really insulting comments, like "your class how big only", or "don't be too happy, it doesn't mean anything until you graduate".

I'd like to say that I was above reacting to stuff like that, but I really was not. My childhood in such a negative environment led me to become overly sensitive and jumpy. I got very irritated/disconcerted/emotional when people made unnecessarily loud noises, spoke to me in harsh tones, or didn't acknowledge my achievements. Conversely, I also subconsciously picked up on my mum's insensitivity and harshness and reflected it on others. I cried easily and often, and I was needy for attention and affirmation. I developed unhealthy attachments to people, and I occasionally found myself having explosive temper tantrums.

In May of 2014, at the pinnacle of my souring relationship with my mum, and after the biggest and meanest verbal showdown that I've ever had in my life, I left home to live on my own. I didn't speak to her for 3 months after that.

It was only towards the end of that year that I began to rebuild my bond with my family again.

My departure from home definitely served as a wake up call.

I realised that there were a lot of things at home that I took for granted for (I'd like to believe that my mother also learned a few things—I mean, she did change her approach with me as well la, especially with regards to her temper), and slowly, I realised also that my mother was not a loveless parent, but rather a parent who did not know how to love her child the way her child wanted her to. That understanding helped me to be more accepting of the other ways in which she chose to show her love for me, and to show that I appreciated her for those things. From there, we slowly bridged the metaphorical emotional gap that had been growing wider and wider each passing year.

It is ironic that distance can really help to break down communication barriers and help the people on both ends give in more. I can now attest to that. Leaving home may not have been the best way to deal with things, however, I don't regret my move, precisely because of where it got me and my family. Between my mum and I, I guess being apart works out for both of us. If she's really in some horrible mood, at least I'm not going to be around to 'irritate' or 'agitate' her even more, and possibly end up hurting her feelings when I BTH and lash back out at her. It's way easier to keep control of myself and just remove myself from a bad situation before it gets worse when I don't actually live there any more.

I'm currently still living away from them, but we're closer than we have ever been when we were living under the same roof. I visit every week; I have enough time apart to miss my family and fully appreciate them, and vice versa. It isn't 100%, but it's a comfortable situation that my family and I have settled into.

I feel like they're more at ease and she doesn't think that I'm some useless person that can't fend for myself anymore. I've definitely grown to become more independent, and self-aware. Also, the biggest thing living apart from my family has taught me is that I can only have more control over my behaviour, rather than to expect people to change theirs. After all, I can't choose family, and I can't choose my mum's moods for her, but I can choose to deal with it better.

It's a principle that helps me a lot in life now, actually.

Of course, that being said, I'm not a saint, nor am I a complete opposite of the girl I used to be. As with all things, the positive parts of the personality formed by my experiences are also accompanied by some negatives, albeit with less intensity in their manifestations... I have matured, but I still have my childish, naive moments. I still cry, I'm still sensitive, I still crave lots of attention and affirmation. I tend to look to my friends and partners to be my emotional anchors, and perhaps to a certain extent—replacement family members. I still have that rebellious streak... and it isn't easy for me to back down from a fight, especially if it is over something I have strong feelings about.

BUT.

I now constantly strive to become the better version of myself as each day, month and year passes. My experiences and interactions with people are whetstones that shape me, so come what may, regretting is useless and time can be better spent on learning and improving myself.

All in all, everyone has good and bad qualities. I believe that growing up is just the process of evening them both out in the best way, such that you are good-hearted, but not boring and lack opinion; you are wilful but not a fucking brat.

That right amount of Regina George and Cady Heron.

That's me.

よろしく。

Love, C.