The Road - Part 1 of ?
For some of us it starts in school.
We want to wear clothes like everyone else does.
Be in the class with the cool kids.
Surround ourselves with a wall of friends.
Fit in and NOT be singled out.
At least, that's how it started for me.
Insecurity ran through the heart of me.
I remember a time in 5th grade when a cool girl had a cool pen and was showing it to her friend seated next to me.
"Can I see it?" I asked.
The girl looked at me. We had been "friends" and had shared a few laughs as I knew how to get them; build everyone else up and put myself down.
It was funny.
It worked.
And I made myself the punchline before someone else did.
As she looked at me and to the other friend and then at her new cool pen, her gaze came back to me as she said, "No".
Although I had mentally prepared for this rejection - I always did - I hadn't physically prepared for the invisible fist that landed in my gut, knocking the air from my lungs.
We want to wear clothes like everyone else does.
Be in the class with the cool kids.
Surround ourselves with a wall of friends.
Fit in and NOT be singled out.
At least, that's how it started for me.
Insecurity ran through the heart of me.
I remember a time in 5th grade when a cool girl had a cool pen and was showing it to her friend seated next to me.
"Can I see it?" I asked.
The girl looked at me. We had been "friends" and had shared a few laughs as I knew how to get them; build everyone else up and put myself down.
It was funny.
It worked.
And I made myself the punchline before someone else did.
As she looked at me and to the other friend and then at her new cool pen, her gaze came back to me as she said, "No".
Although I had mentally prepared for this rejection - I always did - I hadn't physically prepared for the invisible fist that landed in my gut, knocking the air from my lungs.
She continued..."Your hands are dirty."
I turned my hands up and looked at my palms. They weren't dirty. But my callouses were stained.
Stained from helping with chores and playing outside.
I immediately was self-conscience of the callouses.
Cool girls had new pens, not callouses.
I watched as the girl, and her other friend, huddled together and oohing and awwing over the wonderful workings and cool design of the new pen.
When the bell finally rang I moved my feet and continued on my journey.
I am still on that journey....
I turned my hands up and looked at my palms. They weren't dirty. But my callouses were stained.
Stained from helping with chores and playing outside.
I immediately was self-conscience of the callouses.
Cool girls had new pens, not callouses.
I watched as the girl, and her other friend, huddled together and oohing and awwing over the wonderful workings and cool design of the new pen.
When the bell finally rang I moved my feet and continued on my journey.
I am still on that journey....
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