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People change.... or do they?
- May 31, 2010 at 11:29 AM
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- Comments (2) Total Views (43) Everyone can see this journal post.
I was born and raised in a tiny little town in the northeast corner of Kansas called Hiawatha. A place where if you spit, you just might his another state. Here, kids grew up sheltered from crime. Sure, the occasional tape collections got stolen out of unlocked cars overnight, but the big stuff happened in "the city". We didn't have gas station hold ups, murders, car thefts etc. It was, what seemed to be, the enchanted life. A world away from the harsh realities of what really happened. A place where kids rode their bikes across town, or walked home from the movie theater at 9:30 at night and parents didn't bat an eye at even the thought.
Small towns do, however, have their disadvantages. Everybody knows everybody, and if you don't know what you're doing; don't worry. Everybody else does. You can't pass gas in a little town like Hiawatha. Somebody will hear you, and that person will tell everybody. That story will continue to get passed all over town, and each time it's told, it will get louder, stinkier and longer. By the time the story gets back to you, you find out that you actually "sharted", it was running down your leg and you had to go home. Small town people have to make up their own excitement, because nothing exciting ever happens. Unfortunately it's usually at somebody else's expense.
The only thing that is a constant between the city and small towns, is the cruelty of kids. If you don't look a certain way or dress in certain clothes... you were a certain nothing. You just either were or you weren't. There was no in between. It was no secret and the ones who "weren't", were reminded daily that maybe you just shouldn't have been born. I was one of those kids. I ate lunch in my car my junior and senior years. Tormented and teased to the point of being physically ill at the thought of getting on the bus, or roaming the halls between classes. Literally fearful of going to the restroom. Needless to say, I suffered from countless bladder infections. That got to be old, and too painful to bear, so I just quit drinking anything during the day. That didn't work out so well either. I ended up in the hospital for several days due to dehydration. I was such a big loser, that when I returned to school after that, nobody, not even my teachers, knew I had been hospitalized. Office staff decided to not mention it, I wasn't important enough to let them know that my absence over that time was excused. Honestly, I would have rather stayed hospitalized. While I was there, I didn't hear my classmates' words that stung. No warm, salty tears leaving a wet trail down my cheek eventually falling to my desk hidden behind a text book. I didn't dare move that book either. Crying just added fuel to the fire with these people. It was funny to them.
Yes. I was "that" girl. Boys didn't give me the time of day, and I was just subhuman to the girls. Yet, every day, they always found time in their busy schedules, to come down from their pedestals to make sure I knew "my place". I wasn't invited to the class parties, but I heard all about them in the days following. We graduated, and I ran. I'm outta there. Off to a place where nobody knows me. Tying to start a new life. I got away.
Graduation was 15 years ago. I've been back home to visit my folks countless times over the years. I'm always excited to see them, but I'm just as excited to leave and come back to my adult life. I just don't like being there. I get taken right back to the painful memories and it's literally nauseating.
Over Memorial Day Weekend 2010, I attended my 15 year class reunion. I wasn't invited to this party either. About a month before the event, I contacted a classmate via Face book to ask if anything was being planned. Everybody else had known about it for months. At first I was excited to go. (Though I don't know why.) A select few have grown up over the years and I got invited to a small BBQ get together just before the official reunion festivities began. I felt good there. I could be myself and be loved and accepted for the woman I've become. The people who were there didn't see the ugly duckling anymore. I was happy.
As always, though, all good things must come to an end. It was time to go to the official reunion, and look my high school pain in the face. My stomach is in knots due to the painful memories flooding back. Things I hadn't thought about in years. Probably repressed in the depths of the wondrous human brain to spare myself the hurt. In my adult life, I'm a confident, upbeat, outgoing woman. How do these people just take that away so easily?
I arrive and my confidence is gone and replaced by pain. I'm the ugly duckling again. Every face I look at just brings pain. I put my game face on and muddle through the group. Doing my best to stay near those who were at the bbq. They don't know it, but they are my anchors, reminding me that I'm not "that girl" anymore. But it's not enough. Before we even get to the class photo, I want to leave. Run away again. I'm ready to pick up my kids and go home.
I get some photos, stick around for the "group shot" and take off with a couple of the ones who grew up. We listened to the music we loved "back in the day", took a cruise the way all the cool kids did back then and went to our school to take a few goofy pictures. Then it's off to a local bar where everybody had congregated. It didn't take long and I felt like a turd in a punchbowl again. I just wanted to go home. Not mom and dad's, but my home. My life. My safety net.
I arrive back at my folks' house only to find that my three gorgeous kids were fast asleep, completely oblivious of my arrival. I didn't have the heart to wake them. I curl up in the recliner and tearfully drift to sleep. The way I did each and every night of my high school days. Anxious for the new day to arrive so I can leave.
I've never belonged here. I used to compare it to the movie "Sweet Home Alabama". But tonight through the tears, it hits me. It's nothing like that. I haven't simply "outgrown" that town. It's just flat out toxic. It's not just when the class gets together that the sickening feeling overwhelms me. It's every time I'm there. I just don't belong. I never have and I never will.
All in all, it was a very thought provoking weekend to say the least. But I learned a lot. I knew I didn't belong, but going made me realize that I really do belong in Lincoln. It's not a huge city (pop. 250,000), but it's a far cry from Hiawatha (pop. 3,000). My kids don't have the freedoms I had as a kid, but they do have more opportunities both in and out of school. More extracurricular activities like clubs and sports. More things to do with their friends. And they do have them, unlike the way their mommy was in school. They are not and will not be the ugly ducklings. I have a great career as a hair stylist. I make sure that if they get teased, it won't be for their looks. Their hair and clothing will not be a target for torment. I will not let my kids go through the pain and anguish I did as a kid. The cycle of abuse stops with them.
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This was very well written and should be shared! I think you should send it to all the programs that have started to try and stop bullying. It is a cycle that has existed since the start of time though. I hate that you were caught in it but you turned better than great!
- XandJsMommy
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