One night as I was putting my ten year old daughter to bed, she asked me, “Mommy, can you tell me a story about something fun that happened to you in school when you were my age.” I sat there in silence trying to rack my brain for something that brought laughter to my heart and hers. I could not think of one happy moment from my elementary school experience. I could write volumes of fun times with friends in my neighborhood and with my family, but not school. It sits as one big black hole in my history. I can only guess that it is because school was a continuous painful place for me. This was where I became a target for the cruel teasing of boys who seemed to have a need to build up their self-esteem by tearing down mine. Their barrage of demeaning names left me defenseless to fight off the wounds that tore at my soul. Names like “circus freak, ugly, and pug face” began to define me. Sadly, these lies became what I thought was true about me.
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