I am natural introvert. I am highly sensitive and empathic. I am also a girl. These things together developed into what I call 'a shy person'. Yet, in this revelation I just had, I realized I had been taught to have shame and that shame became shy.
I was thinking how I was taken to the doctor and put on diets because I was chubby. How I was to fast all day and then just eat dinner. A young teen, fasting... teaching her metabolism to go even slower. A young teen, fasting... not having the nutrients a growing brain needed.
How I was sabotaged. A visit to the doctor, another diet to follow. "No gravy for me," I'd tell the Mom who'd taken me to the Doctor yet again to 'fix' my problem. "Just this once," she'd say to me. "I'd better not have any lemon meringue pie Mom," I'd say. "Just this once," she'd reply.
Thirteen years old, going to a new high school, already feeling ashamed of my body for its size and its treachery in growing breasts, the bullying that started in elementary school continued, but more intensely. I lived in terror everyday but never said a word to anyone. I must be this hateful thing. I was taking up too much space. Getting in everyone's way.
I craved to be invisible. And so I ate more, loathing myself for doing so but finding solace in the pleasure of burying my head in a romance novel while stuffing my face with cheezies.
Everything around me sent the message that I was lazy and, most of all, very stupid.
At thirteen years of age my reading comprehension was tested and it was determined that I had the comprehension level of a first year university student. Despite this, I almost failed Grade 8 with D's across the board.
At fourteen years of age I was invited to sing my original songs on tour with my high school choir.
At fifteen years of age the producer who was recording my high school choir heard me sing and invited me to make a demo.
At sixteen years of age I entered a poetry competition and won first prize.
By the age of sixteen I had taught myself to play the guitar and piano, I had played flute, piccolo and trumpet in high school band.
I drew and painted all the time. I wrote realms of poetry. Some of it was about how much I hated myself and one day, looking at it, I threw that away but there was still plenty left. I have a box of it. Poems and lyrics and songs.
I was taught I was wasted space. I had no value. I would never be good enough.
This is the tsunami that bowls me over each time I try to take a step in a positive direction. It washes over me, takes me down, pushes me into the darkness. I fight, but I can't breathe. I fight, but it feels futile.
Yet I have seen the sun. I have survived and floated to the surface and been amazed at the beauty around me. The beauty within me. I know I am a caring, compassionate, thoughtful person. Being highly sensitive is a gift that allows me to help others. And this gives meaning to my life.
I have value. And not because I've earned it or had it bestowed upon me. Because it is intrinsic to being a human being and artistic soul. It simply is.
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