Saturday, May 6, 2023

Maude vs the bullies from sixth grade

 Dear 12-year-old self,

I know that you’ve been struggling with something for a long time. And you carry this thing well into your adulthood. In fact, this is 50-year-old you writing a long overdue love letter to yourself when you really needed it the most.

I know that for most of your formative years, you felt different than everyone else. That difference mostly manifested itself in your outward appearance. It started early in grade school with comments about your height and your weight – tall and thin. And then the universe saw fit to cover you with freckles.

And as you got a little older, the bullies got a little bolder. Then, in the sixth grade your classmates felt so incredibly awful about themselves that they chose to target you. They called you Rover. Said you were uglier than a dog. They barked at you. And you lived with that for most of that year and then carried it with you for the next 38.

And when you needed it the most, there was no one to help. No one to stand up for you. That year, one of the worst, you asked for help. “They are just teasing” was the adult response. There’s a massive difference between teasing and bullying, and you were bullied and didn’t have the words to understand or ask for support. And so you let it happen and lived with it. And you still do.

Even today you describe your appearance as tall, gangly, freckled and the human equivalent of a giraffe. You are so much more than that. But, to be fair, giraffes are pretty cool.

By the time you got to junior high, Rover disappeared and nicknames like Stretch and a Pirate’s Dream (sunken chest, how clever of you stupid boys) became the norm. You never felt cute or pretty and people made fun of you and your last name and reinforced this notion that you are ugly. All these things you’ve carried with you no matter how outwardly confident you might seem, inside you’ve always felt less than.

Thirty years later, your incredible daughter was faced with the same thing at the same age. So I’m going to tell you what you needed to hear when you were 12, and the words I said to her: “You are tall, thin, smart, funny as hell, kind and beautiful. And you are everything they are never going to be. That is why they picked you to hate. You are everything. They are nothing.”

You needed someone to say that, not dismiss those hateful and mean words as mere teasing or my always favorite “kids will be kids”. Words matter. Words. Matter.

And I wish with all that I am that you could see the woman you’ve become so that you don’t carry those words and experiences with you for 38 more years. I wish I could give you a big hug, tuck you in and hold you tight so you felt safe. I’d tell you you’re beautiful inside and out. I wish you could see yourself the way others see you now.

I wish you could, even now at age 50, believe that you are beautiful. But your beauty is more than just what’s on the outside. You are funny as hell, you are adventurous, brave, kind, smart, successful, athletic (yes, this does eventually happen to you!) and you are also beautiful in your own wavy hair freckle-faced brown eyed way.

It will take some time to undo those thoughts and those memories, but this is a start. Be kind to yourself. Be proud of yourself. Remember what you’ve overcome and that you are a total badass. And, someday, I hope when someone tells you that you're beautiful that you finally believe it. You are, inside and out.

Please remember to love yourself.

Love,

Yourself

 

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