The writing prompt for today is “Has anything traumatic ever happened to you?” I am supposed to go on and describe the events. You know what? I don’t want to .
I have touched on my past in other posts. I had a rough childhood. Mostly due to the jerkfaced blokes I went to school with. Like a band of rabid bats, they followed me from grade school to junior high and right on into high school. I was too tall, too white, too “slutty”, too dumb, too blonde. No matter what I did to try to fit in, it made it worse. Putting on a smile and a little lip gloss helped nothing.
I HAD to become funny, self deprecating, a parody, an intentional flop. I had to do it to survive. It was that or become a headline of Columbine proportions. I guess I could have run off to Hollywood and made my soul selling complete. Thank You God, for not letting me do any of those things. Thank You even more for not letting me get myself killed in all of that mess.
Even though the trials were terrible, I appreciate them. Would I want to do them all over again? NO! There were many days that I felt my heart and soul could not take one more harsh word or condescending glance. But now, NOW, I am the woman I want to be. I am strong. I am full of life. I love majestically. Would I trade that for anything? NO!
To any young person going through the fire I would say this: IT ENDS. It doesn’t last forever. Oh, and who gives a RIP about what some snot nosed, clueless, kids think? They don’t think about you at all. While you go home and burn for hours over things they said, they eat their dinner, do their homework, and sleep ever so peacefully. I wish I had known all this then. I never see them. I never HAVE to see them. I don’t go to reunions. I don’t harbor hate for them. If I were to see someone from high school and they were repentant, that would be awesome! The harsh truth is, they don’t even remember me. So, I keep calm and carry on.
My hope for my children is that they will never EVER be a bully. My hope is that if they are ever a target of a bully they know they can stand up for themselves. No child is worthless. No one has the right to tell them they are worthless.
You, reader, are not worthless. You are important. You have a purpose. You have a story.
Live to tell it.