I was in the eighth-grade spelling bee. One part of me hated competing in spelling bees. But a bigger part of me hated to let my parents down by misspelling words on purpose just to get out of them.
I was already nervous. Awkward, 13 and horrified about getting up in front of everyone, I swallowed hard as I walked up to the microphone and waited for my teacher to give me my first word.
“Elephant.”
Then I heard it. The girl who tortured me throughout the year snickering with her friends about the irony (though I’m sure she didn’t know what that word meant. Who, me? Bitter?) of me having to spell that word.
Everyone else laughed. Then my teacher tried to calm everyone down. Which, of course, just made it worse.
I was mortified. I spelled the word correctly, held back tears and sat back down. I never, ever forgot that day.
That was one of the stories I told when I spoke at Camp Strong4Life. That was one of the memories I hadn’t recalled in a very long time. But looking out at those faces, I saw myself. And I remembered.
I’ve told you guys a little bit about my childhood. I wasn’t necessarily fat. But I was a big girl. I grew faster than everyone else. So I was an easy target, even for myself. I wasted a lot of time hating myself—wishing I were thinner, wishing I were prettier, that my teeth were straight, that my hair was thicker.
All those wishes came with me into adulthood. Some of them changed into new desires. But the core was the same—I wished I weren’t me.
When I talked to the kids at camp, I realized how far I’d come. But I also realized how long it took me and how much of that girl is still within me. I wish I could have shown these kids their futures—shown them that everything would be OK if they believed in themselves. I wish I realized that at their age, even when others told me so.
I spent a few days after camp crying. And eating. I didn’t go completely off the deep end, but I definitely had some moments of full-on emotional eating. I didn’t know I still had that within me. But this whole journey has been about peeling away those layers. Reaching new ones and shedding old ones. Old memories. Old habits. Old me.
My very wise friend Lara, after I told her I was worried I had gotten off track, told me I hadn’t flipped a switch. I had just turned a dimmer. I am the one who controls how light or dark it gets. She’s so right.
I’m quite grateful to have had that experience. I needed to confront that 13-year-old girl I tried to forget. She was a layer I needed to shed.
I feel much lighter because of it.
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6 comments:
I love that I have beautiful, strong & exceptional friends and family members...
Because this world has too few analogies...
A few slips here and there do not equal a landslide... just makes the climb very interesting AND of course, the peak even more satisfying.
Many of us (me included!) have not worked up the bravery to put on those hiking boots and climb that mountain yet, but your blog is helping many of us to work up the nerve to do so. Just knowing you're not perfect in this adventure is a relief. Maybe the ups and downs you are experiencing = a wise sherpa teaching you the path towards that summit.
Oh, and one thing I know for sure? Your hiking boots are surely FABULOUS.
When I read a story like this, the first thing I think is "It's not fair!" It isn't fair that some people seem to skate through life without pain and emotional baggage. It isn't fair when something that isn't your fault ends up hurting you. It isn't fair that even people you care about sometimes hurt you for no reason that you can see. It seems that we have far less control in our lives than we would want and life isn't always fair. Once you learn to accept that, it is much easier to work on the things you can control. I feel for you, Erika. We shall overcome!
When I read a story like this, the first thing I think is "It's not fair!" It isn't fair that some people seem to skate through life without pain and emotional baggage. It isn't fair when something that isn't your fault ends up hurting you. It isn't fair that even people you care about sometimes hurt you for no reason that you can see. It seems that we have far less control in our lives than we would want and life isn't always fair. Once you learn to accept that, it is much easier to work on the things you can control. I feel for you, Erika. We shall overcome!
If this were on FB, I would hit the 'like' button.
Wow, how very brave you are to expose such deep wounds. I was that elephant as well, and not really fat, just matured faster than most of the other girls. I don't think any woman on the planet would say that she is totally satisfied when she looks in the mirror. We all want something we don't have, even if it's our height which we certainly can't do anything to change.
I have lost over 170 pounds, yet I can't really be satisfied, since there is the plastic surgery to remove years of excess skin (that I will never be able to afford.) In the interim, I've aged, which adds to the laundry list of items to "be fixed."
When are we good enough? Is it settling to feel that we've reached "good enough?"
These are the questions that every woman struggles with - fat, thin, or in between.
For me, I try to think of how much better off I am now when I start focusing on the physical. Instead of saying, "I wish I didn't have cankles," I try to replace the thought with, "I am so grateful that I can now cross my legs with ease."
It was never about food anyway.It's all a head game, right?
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