For Marrie

Marrie had a post on her blog about how she saw herself and I was intrigued; it was an excellent post. She asked the question, "how do you see yourself?" Well, Marrie, here is part of the answer.

The first memory I have of being aware of myself is one of my middle brother T and I. We were outside the house in Amarillo, I was about four and he around two. I picked up a can of WD-40 and sprayed it, the nozzle was pointing toward him and it sprayed in his eyes. I didn't know what a nozzle was or which way to point it. I just pushed the top down. When I took T inside to get my Mom, she kept asking me what happened, I told her he did it. I was too afraid to tell her I did it and it was an accident. So, I saw myself as a liar, as a guilty liar. And I worried for a long time about it.

In elementary school I had a "friend" (and I use the term loosely) named Monica. She at one point turned our whole fifth grade class against me. It was terrible. But because I thought Jesus would have been her friend I desperately pursued her friendship. I am the village idiot to the nth degree. Monica's mother would not let her come to my house or spend the night at my house. If we wanted to spend time together outside of school I had to go to her house. I didn't understand why then, but I do now. I distinctly remember one time when Monica stood at our front door (a RARITY) and her mother was looking inside through the screen door. I will never forget the look in her eyes. The look was one of disgust and contempt. Why should her daughter associate with "those" kind of people? "Those" being ones without sufficient income in her eyes.

I started playing basketball in the fourth grade. My Dad used to come to games when he had the chance which was great. I have always loved my Dad. He is one of the greatest men I know. However the car ride on the way home was always terrible because I never seemed to play defense hard enough or I could have made the shot if I'd practiced more at the beginning of the week... don't get me wrong. Dad was just trying to encourage. He didn't know. But a lot of the reason I stopped playing (later in life that is) is because I was never going to be good enough. Never. And that's how I've always felt. Always. It's like carrying around a ton of bricks. Now that I'm divorced, since I married a man who didn't want me on numerous levels (emotionally, physically, mentally, intellectually) that feeling is only amplified and reinforced.

In fifth grade I tried out for the Sound of Music, for the part of Lisel and I got it! Now, it would take an act of congress for me to try out for a part which is why is was such a big deal for me to try out for Sing Song hostess at ACU. I have always loved to sing. Always. If I could, I'd do it for a living. I sang with a group in high school and we were great... sang for large audiences and people loved us. I don't mind singing when there's other people singing with me but when it comes to a solo you can forget about it. So when some friends and I decided to try out for Sing Song host and hostess it was a big deal (and I have always dreamed of being a hostess as dumb as that is). The first time I sang my solo my friend Bekah heard the first note and said, "Wow! I didn't know you could sing like that!" And yet I still have confidence issues.

In middle school, I became obsessed with my appearance because I had a friend who was constantly looking in the mirror. I think every other question she asked was, "Do I look o.k.?" I thought I was fat. I thought I had the ugliest face known to man. I thought I wasn't good at anything... basketball, art, writing, singing (all the things I enjoyed most). Nothing. I'm not sure what happened between the summer of fifth grade and the beginning of sixth grade but it was something terrible. I lost all confidence and self-esteem. I'm sure something happened that I have chosen to block out... and I'm sure it had something to do with my friend Jenny's aunt.

In high school my mom used to tell me that I could have any guy I wanted. Whether or not that was ever the case I don't know. But I never saw it. Never. I have always seen myself as fat. I haven't ever thought I was beautiful or pretty or anything of the like. I have always seen myself as someone who looks awkward and says stupid things at all the wrong times. And I still don't know what Mom was talking about... and Mom wasn't the only one who said it. K said it one time about a year ago. I met with him and told him about the situation with J and he said that of all the guys to have picked it would be the one who didn't want me when there was a whole slew of them who did. And I asked him what he was talking about and he said, "L, I know these things. I was at the retreats and stayed with the guys. Every last one of them would have given their right arm to date you. One time the seniors asked all the guys in the room to name the one girl they would date if they could and everyone one of them named you." But none of them ever asked.

I see myself most recently as someone who for the first time in their life decided to stand up and say, "No More" and who will now forever be branded for it. Scarlet letter D on the shoulder. I see myself as someone who isn't extradordinarily beautiful or even remotely beautiful but doesn't need to be because my love is so deep that it makes up for it. It is pure. I see myself as someone who doesn't quit who doesn't give up. Who stands up for what's right, regardless of whether or not it's difficult. I see myself as someone who can be and who is influential.

I have always struggled with guilt. Struggled with self-image most of my life. I have not, however, struggled with my identity. I know who and whose I am. I have always known that. Always. But I have always been worried about what others thought of me, but not in the peer pressure kind of way.

As far as how others see myself, I feel like now they see me as a failure, as someone who couldn't keep their own husband. As someone who wasn't wanted. What man doesn't want to be intimate with their new wife? What kind of story is that? How grosteque do you have to be? I feel like people think I'm a liar. Men will pay a prostitute on the street... but he didn't want what he had right in front of him? And my own family thought I had to be lying. How's that for encouragment?

So that's only a little of how I see myself. I feel a little naked now. I think most times I feel naked on my blog though... blogs are for nakedness in some form or another.

This subject could be written on about all night... but I'll quit here.