Maybe I’m using this initial phrase wrong, but I don’t really care at this point.
This post is to reflect the fact that after 20 years of fighting and putting myself down and such, I’ve finally realized the kind of person that I am and it makes me really happy.
So, a little background. It’s been so long since I’ve written a blog—any blog really—that I can’t remember what I’ve revealed about myself and what I haven’t. But I don’t think I’ve talked really about my life, so this is kind of going to be a short autobiography post about myself. Sooo just bare with me.
I grew up…everywhere. I was born in Blue Ridge Summit, Pennsylvania, moved to Spokane, Washington, then to Stuttgart, Germany, then to Norfolk, Virginia, then to Cascade, Maryland, and then back to Blue Ridge Summit. And now I live part-time in Utah where I go to college. Phew! All over the country! But it was fun; most of the moving occurred the former half of my education, so it wasn’t so bad. I don’t think you really start to make friends and connections that last until later in life anyways. I don’t even know if the friends I have now are going to be the friends I’ll have 10, 5, or even 2 years from now. I hope some of them will be, but who really knows what’s going to happen in the future. How did I get from places I lived to friends? I’m so ADD with my posts, I apologize (but I refuse to delete and re-write things, because if this was a vlog instead, I wouldn’t be able to, so I just keep everything I type in the posts).
So. I have 2 loving parents, and 2 *insert some kind of adjective here* sisters. I also have 7 sets of aunts/uncles on my mom’s side and 2 sets of aunts on my dad’s side. I don’t see much of my dad’s side (but I don’t think I’m missing out on much), but I see my mom’s side of the family a TON. It’s fantastic. I love that part of the family. It’s big and loving and wonderful. 64 or so relatives on that side, including my immediate family, so reunions are always fun.
Military father, stay-at-home mother, and a good life. As a teenager, I didn’t really realize how good I had it. I didn’t realize how much my parents did for me or how much of a brat I was. Now that I’m older…I really feel bad for my parents. I was an awful child. I was smart and mouthy at the same time. I can’t believe my parents put up with it! They must really love me! I was great when I was out of the house though; everyone thought me and my sisters behaved like little angels.. (how wrong they were). But I think my parents liked the fact that we were good in public. I think they wished we would act that way at home, but I still think they were a tad bit grateful that we had *some* manners.
So. Fantastic parents. Interesting siblings. One of my sisters has Asperger's syndrome, which is a mild form of autism if you didn’t know. She’s super artistic, but she has her moments. The other one…ehh let’s just not talk about her. She’s a teenager; that’s all I can say.
So, growing up, I was seen as one of the elite ‘smart kids’. Even in elementary school I was the kid everyone went to for help. It got to the point in 3rd grade when I was so bored with math class that my teacher actually gave me more advanced homework to challenge me more. I was put into the gifted program in 5th grade…I think 5th grade… and all that. I’m not trying to brag, but my intelligence I used to always think was my best quality, and I’m proud of it. It’s not narcissism or anything; but if you’re good at something, why not be proud of it and brag it up a little. *ahem* 6th in my graduating class *ahem*. Just kidding…although not really. I totally was 6th in my class.
Okay so not only was I the smart kid, but I’ve always been the fat kid too. It’s funny because when I was younger—even in middle school—I didn’t really see myself that way. And I’m not talking about someone who is healthy-looking and thinks they’re fat (I hate that kind of person by the way…they need smacked), I’m talking about the fat kid who really does need to lose weight. I didn’t really think of myself as fat until I got teased in middle school. Around the same time every day I would go use the restroom and there would always be this girl who would call me names and say stuff like “wide load coming through”. In middle school! Come on people, grow up. But I don’t remember being picked on before—never to my face anyways. So when they did it, it really hurt me. I hated that girl. It was really the first time I ever saw myself as different from anyone else. I mean, even in gym class when we had to change I didn’t feel as though I was different or bigger or anything. I hated gym in middle school though…the bitch of a gym teacher NEVER gave me more than satisfactory, even though I did the best I could. Bitch. Anyways…
So our middle school is only 2 grades, 7th and 8th. The girl who teased me every day was in 8th when I was in 7th, so she went to high school when I went to 8th grade. It was nice not having someone putting me down every day. And you know, after that, even when I changed in gym class I felt integrated. In middle school I had a fairly good set of friends. In 8th grade I didn’t really have any of the same friends in my section (in our middle school, there’s 3 sections per grade, and you have classes with just that section throughout the year). In 8th grade though, I met Dezzi, and she became like my best friend in the whole world. We probably still would’ve been super close if she hadn’t moved. (I still love you Dezzi, and super miss talking to you!!) So anyways, life seemed fairly good for me.
Another time that actually like..truly affected me was in 8th grade. I had worn flip flops to school (I always wore flip flops…I love those things so much) but flip flops don’t really do very well in wet situations. Usually I was able to wipe my feet off good enough that I wouldn’t slip around. So anyways there was this one day when school let out that it had rained. The middle schoolers had to walk down a path to get to the high school where the buses were always parked. The path to go to the high school was super muddy, but I didn’t think anything of it. When I got to the part of the path that was muddy, I slipped and fell flat on my butt in the mud. Guys that were in the grade (even one or two that I had a crush on) turned around and was laughing at me. What didn’t help was when I tried to get up and slipped again. It caused them to laugh even more at me. No one offered to try and help me up or anything. I even heard someone mumble ‘earthquake’ under their breath. Being fat and falling sucked (even now I am terrified of falling down). My pants were muddy and wet and I was chilled to the bone. I got on the bus and no one asked what had happened or anything. It really affected me though. After that day, if I walked outside after school and saw that it was raining, I would go to a teacher who really liked me and would ask if I could stay after and help her with anything, just to avoid getting embarrassed all over again. I was terrified of falling again…and that happened for the rest of 8th grade. Staying after school meant riding the bus that came a half hour later, and that one came to the middle school to get us, so it wasn’t as bad, and there wasn’t a very high chance that I would slip or fall or anything.
On a side note, ice terrifies me just as badly, or maybe even worse, because I’m afraid of falling and hurting myself.
Aaaand then 9th grade came along and that meant high school. Freshman year I had…I don’t know what I had first, but I remember my second class was Latin. All the language rooms were down in trailers at the back of the school. And usually I would get there before everyone else—even the teacher—and I’d stand outside the door and wait for the teacher. Guess who was taking a language class at the same time I was. Yup; that girl from middle school who had called me names. The same exact person would call me fat or whatever when she walked by to go to class. She would only do it when I was alone though, so I was always thankful when someone else would be standing with me waiting for the teacher to come and let us in. Sometimes the girl had a friend walk with her and they would giggle and stare and draw out the word ‘faaaaaaat’ until they disappeared from my view. I don’t think I ever cried, but it was an awful experience. In high school over the years I have a few other experiences where people would call me names, usually underclassmen boys, but nothing to major.
There was another time when I was embarrassed because of stupid people. It sounds kind of funny now, but I remember in 10th grade, there was a sticky note that a guy stuck on his friend’s back going down the hall. He saw it and took it off and threw it on the ground. A girl picked it up, pretend tripped into me, and told me sorry. I just knew she had put something on my back, but I couldn’t reach it. So I had to walk into the cafeteria—across the whole cafeteria—to go to the table where my friends sat, and asked them if there was something on my back. When they pulled it off, it said “I like me a hairy man” or something lame like that. Now I find it funny, but then I just saw it as a mean girl who took advantage of a fat shy girl. I went home that day and cried. Although there was a nice guy I had talked to online who said he would’ve kicked the person’s ass if he had been there (I always met the nicest people online…I may make a blog post about that whole life later).
So I got picked on on and off, but I had some really good friends all throughout high school. They made me feel so accepted and loved, and I really don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t had people to lean on. It also helped that they were all in advanced classes too, so we got to spend a good bit of time together.
Suffice to say, I had a lot of low self-esteem issues and rarely felt good about myself, even though I tended to post a lot of pictures of myself and stuff online. I even had a vlog there for awhile, and maybe I’ll start that up again (I know Jackie enjoyed watching them). So anyways, I didn’t feel too good about myself. Even during graduation. I have no idea why, but when you fill out the form for your cap and gown, they want you to write down your height and weight. You know, instead of asking dress size or pants size or anything like that, they want to know your weight. So even if you’re a buff but skinny dude, if you weigh a certain amount, you’re going to get a bigger gown. Sooo I was swimming in my gown, because I carried my weight well and actually did not look as big as the scale claimed I did.
Anyways, graduation came and left and then there’s college. And honestly, college has really changed me. It really had me grow as a person. Getting my license also made me grow as a person. It made me interact with people more when I went shopping because I was the one paying for stuff, so to say the least, I had to interact more with cashiers. When I went to college though, it was a whole different thing. I was on my own. I had to shop for myself, call places, pick up my own prescriptions, go to the doctor to get stuff myself…call places…I hate calling places. When I’m home I try to get my mom to do it…I hate talking on the phone. I think I like face-to-face more…and I’m a shy person so that’s saying something. But I had to grow up. I had to interact with people more, and it has made me become a lot more extroverted. Not a whole lot, but now I don’t mind talking to strangers nearly as much as I used to.
I’m growing more into the person that I’m going to be for the rest of my life. And I really, really like the person I’m turning out to be. I mean, yesterday I was in the store in the dorms getting some snacks for the night and the wonderful lady who works there told a coworker than I’m the sweetest girl you’ll ever deal with. Today I had a lady who works in the housing and residents part of the school ask me how my summer went. She said she has seen me around but never got a chance to touch base with me. People tell me all the time how nice I am, and I never really noticed it before. It may just be two or three casual conversations and someone decides I’m nice and sweet and I never understood why. I questioned it a lot last night. I assume I just have that kind of aura about me; a trusting and kind-natured kind of aura that people are drawn to. And I’m happy about it.
I’m also finding out that I’m a charismatic person who is really easy to talk to. I went to an event last week on campus and any guy—or girl—who sat down at the table I was at I was able to talk to easily. Mostly strangers who I had never seen before. It was amazing that I was able to hold up conversations like that. If high school me would’ve seen me, she would have been very confused. I was the kind of girl who sat alone at a lunch table if I didn’t see anybody I knew because I preferred to be alone than with strangers.
Not only am I realizing how awesome my personality is, but I've also realized that I’m a quite attractive person. Yes, I’m still overweight, but even though I am I have a beautiful face, and if I were to lose weight, I’d be even more beautiful. I never thought of myself as beautiful. I knew I wasn’t ugly—but I never thought of myself as anything worth looking at.
The other day was when I realized that I was beautiful. * This is going to sound bad, but I was looking at my little sister’s senior pictures, and as I was looking at them, I just kept thinking, “Everyone thinks she’s the pretty one, but I’m prettier than she is”. She’s thin and has an athletic build, but despite that, I’m still prettier.* So it made me truly happy that I finally realized that I’m worth looking at. I feel more confident when I’m walking around now and I don’t care that I’m bigger, because between my personality and my natural beauty, I’m awesome. It has taken me 20 years to realize this, but I’m a truly amazing person. And now that I realize that I am…I just feel different. A good different. I like the person that I am, and I feel like I don’t have to scrounge around trying to find friends. If I happen to get friends, I do. But if I don’t, I know I’ll be okay. It’s okay being alone sometimes.
*Update: To the haters out there about this realization, you really haven’t walked in my shoes and been through what I’ve been through. My younger sister has always been included and recognized in groups in school. She has always had a lot of friends and been integrated, and EVERYONE has although thought that she was pretty. It might be rude to have thought what I thought, but I don’t regret it, because it’s the best realization I’ve ever made. Not ONLY that, but I didn’t say she wasn’t pretty; she’s a beautiful young lady. All I’m saying is that I’m NOT unattractive like I thought I was before. I SHOULD be able to look at myself and think that I’m beautiful, because I really am. So you can say what you want, but I’m still a beautiful person on the inside as well as on the outside. Just thought I’d make myself clear.
I wish I could’ve seen myself in this light when I was a teenager, because those are the years you really need to see yourself for the way you are. You shouldn’t wish that you were someone else. You shouldn’t want to look like anyone else or want to be like anyone else. You should just be you. Being fake isn’t going to get you anywhere. I want to go up to that teenage girl who sulked around her room all the time, look in her eyes, and say “hey, you’re beautiful and amazing. don’t let anyone make you think otherwise.”
I think part of the reason I’m realizing it too is because I had such great parents growing up. They made me the way I am. They helped make me kind and generous and loving and accepting of others. If I didn’t have that, I don’t know who I would be today. I don’t know if I want to know. All I know is that I’m happy now. And I hope I can stay happy like this years to come. Because this…this feels amazing.
