Memory Monday...The Tough Stuff

Memory Mondays are fun. It gives me a chance to laugh at things I never thought would be funny.

Not all of my memories are funny or happy though. Some are devastating. As much I hate to admit it, some have left scars; deep, painful hurt, that for a long time, negatively impacted the way I behaved. Looking back on those are important too...not to dwell on them, but to recognize them for what they are. They are moments that, for better or for worse, shape who we are and what we will become. Better, if we choose to never put another human being, a divine child of a loving God, through the same brutal scenario. Worse, if we don't allow those scars to fully heal, but instead, only allow it to scab over, vulnerable to abrasive blows.

I have a friend who is suffering right now. She's hurting and desperately trying to successfully navigate herself through a very dark place; the graveyard of all those painful moments where either her actions or the actions of other people left gaping wounds. This post is for her. It's an effort to illustrate that others have been there too, that as perfectly candy coated as some of us seem, it's an effort to rise above the ugly stuff. Whether successful or not, when you're fighting for that happiness, you're making progress. Sometimes it's easy. Sometimes it's not.

I hope some of these examples can be at least chuckled at for their disastrous delivery or level of idiocy. For me, it's a bit cleansing to admit they happened and while they were expressed out loud, it's doesn't necessarily make them truth.

*I was once told by a guy that, whom up to that moment I considered to be a close friend, I was rather unattractive and my only assets were my large chest and a great personality.

*Another guy friend once explained the two types of girls: Hotties and Baby Makers. He firmly placed me in the 'Baby Makers' category.

The unfortunate thing about these two situations was not that I had no romantic interest in either one of them, it was that they were men I considered friends and was convinced they were only being honest.

*Hands down, the most devastating thing that happened to me in junior high school was at lunch one afternoon. A girl who I thought was my friend, sat at a cafeteria table in front of me and proceeded to talk about how much 'she couldn't stand me'. That wasn't the most hurtful part. That came from several of my friends who were sitting with her and agreeing. They shortly realized I was right behind them which only added to the embarrassment.

A few weeks later one of those girls decided that art class was the right time to tell me, to my face, that I was the biggest 'fake' she'd ever met and she didn't care who knew how much she disliked me.

I still have a hard time with that one when I meet new people.

*A few years after high school I moved home from college for the summer. Mine was a small town where everyone knew each other and it wasn't uncommon for any of us to be at church with our school teachers or see them in grocery stores. As was the case with one of the teachers I admired the most.

My mother reluctantly told me one night, as I was preparing to go out with one of my best friends who ended up working at our high school after graduation, something that had been bothering her for weeks. One day during class, my friend and this teacher were making fun of me and gossiping about something I had recently gone through. What they had forgotten was that my younger brother was in the class and heard the entire conversation.

I haven't been comfortable around that teacher since.


It's interesting how my hands are shaking right now. I feel strange revisiting these moments. Yet, as ashamed as I was back then, I'm not anymore. It's as though the wound is gone, but the emotional reaction isn't. Odd.

Before any of you feel badly for me, please don't consider me a victim. I dished out my own ugly, hideous baggage on other people too. Perhaps I was young then and didn't know who I was but that certainly doesn't make the pain I inflicted upon those at the other end any less than what I endured at the hands of others.

*I once used the most vile and disgusting language at a guy who was making fun of my religion in Home-EC. class. What a hypocrite I was to convey my feelings in such a manner. Any effort I was attempting to make in representing members of my church was completely tainted by my behavior. Worse still was the shock and disappointment I saw on my older brother's face when he heard what I had done.

*I allowed a perfectly wonderful young man, I had no intention of marrying, to ask my parents for permission to propose, only to have them shoot him down because I didn't have the guts to do it myself. Can you imagine the humiliation? I lost a great friend that day.

*Perhaps the worst of those moments is when I stood idly by, not saying something that needed to be said, not standing up for someone who needed me to, not acting when someone needed me to do something.

In 6th, there was a girl named Trisha who was maliciously teased on a constant basis. It seems she could do nothing without someone taking an opportunity to pounce on it. She often sat alone, humiliated. I always felt bad for her. I'd go home sick to my stomach for laughing at her. I even remember calling her one night to apologize for being a jerk.

The next day nothing had changed. The kids still teased her. At one point, she looked and me and said, "You really didn't mean what you said on the phone, did you?!"

How could I have been such a jerk?!

If only I could go back.

I'd scream at myself to do the right thing, to be kind, to not worry about what other people thought. To just be honest.

If only I could.

But I can't. Nor can I comfort the little 8th grade girl who couldn't find a private place to cry after a humiliating lunchroom experience.

I can't reassure the young woman who was staring in the mirror for hours scrutinizing, then magnifying every flaw her 'baby making' body had.

BUT, what I can do is take something positive from every one of those experiences. I can choose to speak up and speak out on behalf of those people who need another voice to speak for them.

I can comfort other devastated 8th grade girls and insecure, awkward young women who happened to gain the 'Freshman 15'. I can encourage my girls to be honest with their boyfriends and potential suitors.

I can trust my Heavenly Father's love for me. And for others. His opinion is all that matters.


By the way, I'm finally grateful to be a Babymaker.