Maybe I do just need to write

An old classmate from my grade school just got in touch with me on myspace. It is always nice to hear from people, and he's doing well... living in the midwest married with 4 kids. Oddly enough, when he said I looked the same as always, it evoked in me a feeling of panic. How we've all grown up and changed since then, and how I do NOT want to be that little girl that I was.

But there's a part of me that will always be back in grade school.

You see, it's definitely got me thinking. I really really hated my school. I loved learning and got good grades, in fact the areas I excelled in literally kept me alive when I had no desire to go on. There were a group of us that were actually sent up to the next class for all the major classes; such as math, reading, science, etc. My school was small. And I mean SMALL. 100 kids from kindergarten through eighth grade. Our grade had 14 boys and 6 girls, a few of whom were good friends, a few of whom decided when to be my friend and when to backstab. I got used to being picked on. I hated grade school, and even more hated myself.

The worse things got at school, the harder I worked at my academics, music, and art. Every day when I got on the bus a group of guys would mock me and smash their noses, telling me how flat my face was. And if I was in a fight with a particular friend, she knew right where to get me. One time when she was trying to impress the guys, she smashed her face against the seat and said, "look, I'm Becci!" I was constantly being told it looked like my face had been run into by a semi truck. A girl that was quite a bit older than me would make fun of my clothes (we had no money for nice clothes). One time in particular I had gotten a pair of purple pants for Christmas. I loved them, and hardly ever having new things, I was so happy to have these pretty new purple pants. This girl mocked me loudly, saying it just looked like someone had picked their nose and wiped it on my pants. On many occasions, I didn't want to go to school, sometimes didn't even want to get up in the morning.

I was tired of sitting in class just waiting for that moment, the moment when someone would secretly do something mean; like make a pig out of modeling clay and pass it around the room whispering that it was me. When I would cry or say something out loud, I would be the one getting in trouble instead of the people who made life miserable for me.

It got so bad that a couple of the guys making fun of me all those years crossed the line from poking fun to sexual harassment. I told, they got suspended, and I went to school with them until the end of the school year. People would avoid me on the stairs saying that if they touched me I would report them. I became invisible. Sometimes I still feel the sting of those days. It got even worse, so after that year I was pulled out of that school district and put in the other one nearest us.

But I carried these things with me. And they caused a lot of problems. When I went to my new school, it felt so nice to be liked (at least by some people) that I did a lot of things that ended up messing up my life. I would drink or smoke to impress. I would cut myself to numb the pain I couldn't escape from. Not that I would change my life. A lot of who I am now stems from the things I have been through. But the constant feelings of ugliness caused me to tend toward an eating disorder for several years, something I overcame with God's help shortly before meeting my husband. Years of struggling with depression and thoughts of suicide have also melted away with the Lord's gentle healing.

But there is still that part of me that wants to try to please everyone, even though I know I can't. That part of me that caves with the slightest bit of opposition... I call it the spineless me. The part of me that says I'm too dumb to go to nursing school even though I know I'm smart. The part of me that wonders if everyone sees me the way those people used to see me... as ugly and useless. The part of me that makes it hard to believe my husband when he says I'm gorgeous.

And the part of me that hates me.

Words can be strong, so use them well. If only kids could understand the power they have in how they treat their peers. And now that I have a daughter, how can I protect her from those things? How can I make her life better? Or can I? Maybe, just maybe, mothering is more about being there through the crap than it is about preventing it. Because Lord knows I can't be everywhere all the time. Sometimes I just have to give up and say there's nothing more to do. Just trust that the lessons we learn are valuable, even if we have to learn them through isolation, persecution, loss, bad choices, or whatever else life throws our way.

And slowly I have begun to see possibility rather than dread. I'm seeing that I AM somebody, that I have worthwhile things to say. That I matter to a lot of people, and that I could be a damn good nurse if I really want to. That I can love God and still have flaws, and He won't kick me to the curb if I screw up. The thing that has kept me from going to college is fear mainly. Fear that I'll mess it all up once I put it into practice.

But I'm tired of being held by fear. I'm not going to let it hold me any more, even if I have to fight it.

Here's to possibility.