Day 11 Ride of Your Life
As I stood in front of the other mentors and young ladies at the A Beautiful Me workshop last night I felt the call and shared my story from middle school. I know that in the past I have shared this story in The Perfect Mom Project, but for those that have not heard it, here goes:When I was in 8th grade I had to do an oral report in one of my classes. The idea was that I would do my report and the other students would critique it. There I stood in front of the class in my third middle school in two years, very uncomfortable, with my face full of acne and my body full of anxiety. Most of the kids made fun of me and it was very awkward to be standing in front of them in such a vulnerable way. I gave my report and then sat back down in my seat. The teacher collected the critiques and the idea was she would go over them and then give them to me so that I would be able to see what my peers thought of my report and what they had learned from what I had said. When the critiques were returned a few days later, in the area where they were to write my name as the speaker, over half of the students wrote things like "Zitzeeny" or "Zitzilla" and many other zit related names that were hurtful.
This is the thing; I am 50 years old and I still carry that wound, it has never gone away. It is not an open bleeding wound like it was at first, but it is a deep scar that has healed but still aches from time to time. Because of this wound, I can sometimes still look in the mirror and see that young painful face gazing back at me. Those words have never left my head. The other issue I have struggled with is; why did that teacher give those papers to me? Why didn't she at least soften the blow or speak to the class about the hurtful things they had written? These questions will never be answered, but they have carved into me a strong desire to protect others from the hurt I felt that day, and the hurt that lingers in my soul.
I believe that this painful event was actually a gift from God. Through that one moment in my life he gave me the gift of empathy and understanding. I am able to reach out to others that are hurting more easily. I am also able to teach my own children that today's hurt is tomorrow's lesson. To this day I believe that everything happens for a reason, there are no accidents. It has taken me most of my life to believe I am not ugly. There are days when I am feeling down that I look in the mirror and I see that ugly girl, and I do not think that will ever go away. There are also days when my heart sings and I know that God is working on me. While one event cannot define you as a person it most definitely becomes a part of you. What you do with it is what counts.
What happened to me when I was in middle school has become part of the clay that I am today. It has molded me and framed me. I cannot go back and change any of it, but I can share it so that others do learn the lesson that words do hurt. As I talked with my own girls yesterday, I explained to them that I do not remember any of the nice things anyone said about me at that time I only remember that one moment, when I became ugly. I hope that this lesson sits on their hearts and steps forward when it is needed. That is when God's gift will open and hopefully heal someone.
The photo above is me at the age of 5
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