some things

I remember in 6th grade, band class. I played the clarinet which meant I sat in the second row in front of all the trumpet players. Two boys pulled my chair out from under me as I was sitting down and I fell on the ground. Loudly. Obviously it was loud, I wasn't expecting to fall, I couldn't gracefully land. Then the boys proceeded to call me fat because I fell loudly. I wasn't fat. I sat in class, biting my clarinet so I wouldn't cry, telling myself over and over and over that I wasn't fat.

Today, I honestly don't remember who pulled my chair out. But it still makes me sick to my stomach.

I remember entering high school without a single friend. I remember floating from group to group because my high school was cliquey. I remember making my first friend after my Grandma passed away. In April. I went almost an entire year without having friends to hang out with. Without having people to talk to between class, during class, after class, and before. You know what the sad thing is? It was a private school. I had gone to school with those kids, probably close to 90% of them, since before middle school. Probably 40-60% of them since kindergarden.

I remember my first boyfriend ever. It was 6th grade, so it doesn't really count. But we "went out." We were "going out." I broke up with him, and I guess that broke his heart? Hurt his pride? To this day he is still my greatest bully. I was a junior in high school, taking Algebra II/trig and hating my life. I hate math almost as much as I hate waking up early and peanut butter and jelly. And I hate those things a lot. There were three juniors in the class and the rest were sophomores (overachievers, and I hate math). The three of us sat together and my first boyfriend would simply make fun of me the entire class. He'd look at my test, essentially cheating, but he wasn't cheating. He was looking to compare answers because he knew mine would be wrong. I'm not dumb. I just don't take tests well. I stress out, I second guess, I just can't do it. He'd say, "How did you get 25? You are so dumb. It's 35." I never, ever took his answer, even though I knew it was right. He took that as meaning I thought I was right (I didn't) and made fun of me even more when my tests came back. I passed the class thanks to extra credit and being the favorite student (that's something I was good at). But that wasn't good enough for him. It was constant bullying. I can't remember it all now, but sometimes, someone will say something that triggers a flashback to him. And it hurts. Still.

On my 23rd birthday, in front of my entire facebook audience (it's huge, you know), he wrote the meanest comment about my Spanish accent and how bad it was. Because I'm Spanish. No. I'm white. From Montana. You can't get any worse than that. I know I'll never sound like I'm native. But. On my birthday? Five years out of high school? I can't remember the last time I saw him. I can't remember the last time I thought of him and wondered where he was. Some people just need to get over themselves.

Suzy and Jamie brought this up. This idea that you should love your self for who you are. For what you see. And not what others tell you they see.

I think it's such a beautiful idea.

One night, I was praying and I said something dumb. I can't even remember now. I said, "oh my gosh. sometimes I'm so dumb." In my prayer. Instantly, I felt so ashamed that as I was talking to the one who created me, who calls me lovely and beautiful and who clothes me and takes care of me.....that I would doubt his creation. That I would make less of myself. And that I would not be content and pleased with what I have been given.

That stems from needing to be something I'm not to please others. From constantly wanting approval. From wanting to be liked. From wanting friends. From wanting people to want to get to know me. Needing to be liked, wanted, needed.

Which stems from things in my past that show me that I wasn't good enough. Because I couldn't fall gracefully. Or get 100% on a math test. Or date my 6th grade boyfriend for the rest of my life. Or make new friends.

And I have a bad habit of letting these things, these things that are 9, 6, 10-years-old get to me. Still break my heart. Still affect the person I am today. Ten years later.


And this is what Suzy says that screamed out loud at me:


"look in the mirror and see what's actually there--not what you've been told is there for years and years. and realize that no matter what's there, it's ok because that's not the most important thing anyway. ......

i kind of think we're a society that loves pity parties. we love wallowing. we focus on how we've been wronged and we let past hurts of all sizes and strengths grow like weeds in our brains. how useless and ugly.

fact is: you're fine. you'll be ok. i don't mean it didn't hurt, i don't mean it, whatever "it" was, didn't suck. but it's over now and you have two options: stay here, or move on.

let it drown you or get out of the water."

I'm not pity partying. I'm making myself get over it. Be the bigger person. And love myself for me, no matter how bad past me was hurt.