I'm having a battle with myself over how much to share here on my blog. Obviously I'm sharing about my personal life, but really, it's not anything personal. You know, the kind of stuff you don't want people to know, but you kinda do, and maybe you don't wanna put it out there, but you'd probably feel better if you let it out? So far, I haven't actually shared this blog with anyone. Not on FB, not on Pinterest, not even with family or friends except my husband. I've followed some of my friends openly here on blogger as myself, but only one has figured it out (Hi Melissa!), and I'm down with her knowing my nitty gritty because she is brave enough to share hers. And that's what I love about blogs. I love blogs that actually show the real stuff, the personal. Not just the fun and bubbly stuff. Let's face it, I'm far from bubbly. Hyper at times, but never bubbly. I think it would be great to actually talk about and share some of the real things in my life, but I'm scared. Flat out honestly scared to death. Scared of two big ugly words, judged and insecure. I've spent a large majority of my life feeling insecure because I felt judged. I would say I've always been but that is not true. I was not insecure when I was 4 years old and stood on mannequin platforms at the mall, pretending to be one for shoppers. I was not insecure when I told everyone I met that I was going to go to Harvard and be a country music singer and was more than happy to sing any song I knew for them on the spot. I was not insecure when I would stand on my coffee table singing "Stop In The Name Of Love" at the top of my lungs (there is video evidence to support this claim). I was not insecure when I rocked that washed denim top and skirt combo with the stuffed mouse stuck in the pocket thinking I was hot snot. I was not insecure when I flat out told my Sunday school teacher that I was a princess and twirled for her to show that I was.
So what happened to this little girl? She disappeared at a shockingly young age. I mean, about 7 or 8 years old. I slowly stopped singing for people the older I get. Sure I sang in my car and in chorus, but if anyone asked me to sing on the spot I clammed up. I have a good voice, I have good range, and I always sing perfectly on key. Am I the best? No. But can I sing? Yes. That is something I can do and I do it very well. Other people don't mind bragging about their accomplishments, so I'm not going to be ashamed to be proud of my ability. It defines me in a positive way.
But really, what happened to the girl I was? I've noticed that this girl was who I was before I attended public school. I'm not saying the school system brought me down. I'm saying my peers did. There are people that would hatefully argue with me till they are blue in the face, saying that I should've just toughened up, all kids get teased, stop being a wimp. I think that many times the people who feel like that are former bullies. Unfortunately for them, I did not toughen up, but I do not think I am a wimp. I am sensitive and I'd like to stay that way (to quote Jewel). I do not believe that a 7 year old should have to toughen up and get over their classmates, their friends, their playmates making fun of them. The classmates/friends/playmates needed to get over their mean behavior. Children and adults do not have a right to be mean. The age of accountability for kindness and cruelty comes at an early age. No, I do not have childen, but I was a child, I have a teaching degree, and worked for five years daily with children between the ages of 4-8. Some people may not think that a five year old knows what they are saying, but often times, in my personal opinion, they do. If you teach your child or your students to be kind, they will be, and if they are not, they will understand what they did is wrong. I was bullied from the age of 7 till I graduated from high school. Not the kinda of bullying that caused me to be thrown against lockers or given a black eye. The kinda of bullying that starts with a few kids saying mean things to you face. Then you being to notice people talking, and laughing, and looking at you. Then, girls that were once your best friend, no longer are because you aren't cool enough. I'm not writing about this to garner your sympathy or to whine. I'm writing it to explain another part of me. Here are examples of memories that will never be erased from my mind.
* Standing in the pencil sharpener line, a girl cut me. I said, "Hey D you cut me", her response, "Shut up you little old fat girl". I remember barely being able to get the words out when I told my teacher. Maybe I was a tattle tale, but seriously, I was devastated and I needed the adult in the room to help me. The hilarious part of this is that even at that age (I think 8) I recognized D's error with words and pointed that out to my teacher as well. It's impossible to be a little fat girl.
*Standing in line in the classroom to go somewhere. We had made pinatas out of baloons, they were really cool. That day we had finished painting them and a few of us at the end of the line were looking at everyone's and talking/giggling about our awesome creations. Then B decided to just shout out, "Yeah, look at that one! It's almost about as big as Chelsea!". Seriously B? I think I was 9. At this point I don't think I told me teacher, I was used to the comments.
*In the lunch room, 8th grade, a bunch of us were cracking jokes and being silly together. Mutual hilarity. Then D yelled out, "Yeah well Chelsea, you win the L. A. award because you have a LAME ASS! It's so flat because all the fat went to your stomach!". Wow. Yeah. I actually think you were an ass, D. (I'm actually down with my flat butt now, I'd rather have my flat butt than a bubble butt personally. However, if you have a bubble butt, be proud of that and shake it fast.)
*In the dreaded hall in 9th grade, seriously the first week of school. Same guy, D and another guy, J were shouting at me down that hall while I tried really, really hard to ignore them. Finally, J yells out, "Hey Chelsea! D wants your BODY!!", to which D replied, "Hell NO!". Imagine being 14 and first hearing that someone wants your body (um, gross and embarassing), and then immediately hearing just kidding! It was like I had one of those rage comic trolls jump in to make my insults even more insulting.
*One more. This one wasn't about my weight directly, but I saw that the reason they did it to me was because of my weight. In my mind, there was no other explanation for people treating me bad. I was hated for my weight, I was overweight because of my own fault, therefore it was my own fault people hated me for my weight. Right. So another time, later in the lovely 9th grade year, sitting at a table I was really excited to be at, full of what I thought were cool kids. Kids I desperately wanted to fit in with. This girl passed out candy to everyone, and OMGOSH SHE GAVE ME ONE TOO SHE LIKES ME!!!!! So everyone was sucking on their candy and I slowly started to notice everyone staring at me and whispering and beginning to laugh. It got so bad that I stood up and ran to the library, sobbing, (I spent ALOT of 9th grade lunch in the library, it was a sanctuary). Finally, one girl came in, M. Maybe M remembers coming to my rescue, maybe not. We were never close, just casual friends, but she came in to that library with a mirror and instructed me to smile. I did with my mouth closed. She insisted, no, with your teeth. Yeah. So my candy turned my teeth all black and green. I think that is actually one of the most outright hateful things someone did to me.
Peeps, I was a straight A chubby student who followed every rule to a tee. I did not dress like a geek, I dressed nice and like others. I actually was sometimes complimented for my clothes. I did not do anything that would have been considered weird, nothing to get the dreaded lable of being a "freak". I did not treat others hatefully, I did not drink, smoke, or use drugs, and I did not sleep with any guy, EVER. I was a straight up goody goody and I'm damn proud of it. That doesn't mean I think I'm better than you, it just means I like the fact that I encountered the adult areas of my life as an adult, not as a child. No I was not perfect and I failed at being my best self often. I spent my entire childhood and adolescence believing most everyone around me to be talking about my weight behind my back. Any time someone was mean to me, I thought it was because of my belly. Any time a boy NEVER liked me back, I thought it was because of my gut (and dangit boys, I had good boobs!). Anytime I wasn't invited to a party, my fat. Anytime someone gave me a weird look, my fat. Anytime a girl would literally not talk to me, my fat. Everything always boiled down to one thing, my fat.
Now I actually have no idea why I was treated the way I was. Were these people actually that shallow and hated me because I was big? Or did they hate me for something else that I never could perceive? I don't think I will ever have any answer, and its ok. However, a small evil part of me squeals with glee when I sing this song at the top of my lungs in my car. I swear Taylor Swift wrote it just for me, right down to the line about how the person is "drunk and grumbling on about how I can't sing". It just feels like a small personal retribution. To me, I am so many other wonderful things than the fat girl. To me, those people will always just be mean because in my mind, I have no other memory of their character.
Seriously, if you don't even like Taylor Swift, you have to admit that the girl nailed the subject of bullying right on the head. My childhood experiences have caused me to be a personal advocate for kindness with kids. Working in elementary for five years, I had more than enough opportunities to help in situation with girls being teased. I can only hope and pray I made a difference for those girls.
So why this post? Well, I want to share more. You might think this is pretty personal, and it is, but this is a personal thing that I'm past. I have no problem sharing it with anyone. So it does not cause me any fear to put it out there. This post is any explanation as to why I'm afraid to share more. I may be older and wiser and over my bullying experience, but I will carry the scars for the rest of my life in my mind. I will never forget, because I literally cannot. I will always be insecure. I will always be afraid of what people think of me. I just want to try to force myself into being accountable for certain areas of my life, and maybe if I put them on here, where I can't actually hide them, it will force me to acknowledge them and hold me accountable to whoever reads this. Whew. I don't expect a response to this, but it feels so dang good to write it all out.
