Here’s the real short version: When I was a senior in high school, I had a teacher named Mr. Chris. He was a good teacher and I liked his class. I sought him out to ask him about class and to talk about the stuff we were learning. I was thankful that he was interested in talking about those subjects with me. He saw me walking to school one morning and asked if I wanted a ride and I accepted. He then made it routine to pick me up on my way to school. Somehow, at some point, he professed affection for me and then told me he was in love with me. Such professions did not cease. I was very confused and ill equipped to handle the situation. By graduation, he had kissed me in his office. He continued to write me letters after I went to college. I told one person around the time and then kept it silent for years. The end.
Here’s the set up: By 17 I was already convinced I was fat, ugly, not a good fit for school, not a good fit for my family, life was pretty busy, and I was using my Enneagram 4 skills of ‘there’s something wrong with me’ and comparison as an evil tool to help me confirm there was something wrong with speed and agility. Looking back, I would call myself ‘at risk’ at that time.
And here’s the longer version:
When I was seventeen I was entering my senior year in high school and I was so over high school since sophomore year it wasn’t even funny.
When I was seventeen I thought I was way grown up. I thought I was mature and ready for the next thing. I thought that when my teacher gave me attention and encouragement and let me keep asking questions even after class about philosophers were were studying, that that was a sign of my intelligence, maturity and poised for the next thing.
Then, the next thing that happened was that he started telling me he was in love with me and, it turns out, my 17 year old self was not ready for that kind of next thing. I did not have the skills to manage the mental acrobatics it took to balance wanting to be noticed, being a good girl, believing I could handle it, and having a 50 year old man tell me he was in love with me all at the same time. There was no plan for that and, in my mind, I tried to figure out how such a shift could’ve taken place and, in my mind, I was trying to understand where I got lost and confused with no way out except explain away his words and actions to protect his good guy status, believe I was a smart mature young woman, and act like it was no big deal.
I hadn’t heard any of the rumors that he was someone to avoid. It was only when I was wading through confusion and shame and guilt and fear that I heard people telling jokes about him and high school girls. And the day you find out, in fact, you are one of those high school girls? That’s all the more reason to keep your mouth shut and try to figure out how to manage the mess. By the time he kissed me in his office months later, the emotional damage was done so the kiss was just more of the same confusion, guilt, shame and silence as before.
I have spent most of the past 26 years believing it was no big deal. I know I got off way easier than most (the gift of comparison). Only it turns out, that doesn’t help. The ‘no big deal’ explanation has not resolved, helped or healed any of it. In truth, ‘no big deal’ when not dealt with, can turn into a giant Mothra crisis big deal stomping on your downtown Tokyo heart skyline over and over again.
Dear reader, I am 82% (maybe 79%) fully functioning adult with like 18-21% heart/soul/spirit damage getting in the way and showing up in the deepest and most important places of life- like love, help, belonging and self-worth. Did I think my weird weight loss journey blog would bring this up? No. But it’s here now and it’s time to recover a little more wholeness and restoration and shed some of this old bullshit. Gotta defang the monster. Gotta expose the shame to light. Gotta exorcise some demons if I’m going to survive 44 more years. I’m telling you this not for attention or sympathy. I tell you this because I’m trying to save downtown Tokyo. I’m doing this because facing the dragon (Mothra) in the arena is the work and if it’s showing up now, it’s showing up now for a reason and if I’ve learned anything it’s that I could wrestle with this shit now, or I can save it for later and saving it for later is not working.
It was a big deal. It’s been a hidden big deal for most of my life now. All I wanted to do after graduation was leave and never come back. I was desperate to find a place where no one knew me and try to redeem myself. He helped ruin my concept of love and being worth anything so it was pretty easy to finish the job on my own when I got to college.
What I thought was no big deal has come storming through my life in terrible ways. It taught me rules of living that I’ve used as a weapon, a shield, and a dark dark room. So what would Brene Brown do? She’d say the scariest most vulnerable thing in a TedTalk and let the chips fall where they may. What would Anne Lamotte do? She’d remember that Jesus is the Light of the world, a light no darkness can overcome and she’d do the damn thing. What would a survivor do? She’d fight for the right to get to be here and learn to accept whatever scraps of love are left yet to claim while there’s still time. Mothra may never be defeated this side of heaven, but I’m sure as hell not going to allow it to set everything on fire on a quarterly basis. If we have to live with one another, then we figure out a way to live with one another and pray that, in the living, the living get stronger.
“Tubthumping” is a good song.