Standing Out

I'm sitting in my first grade classroom, the year must have been 1984. I remember I took my brush to school because I needed a way to inconspicuously scratch my head while in class. I knew if I scratched my head as often as it itched I would be scratching it all day. I also knew exactly what the problem was because I've experienced this many times before. I didn't want to tell my mom because she would be pissed. So I waited. I waited and tried to hide it for what felt like a week or so until one day it happened. No different than all the other times. The teacher and the school nurse started checking everyone's heads and not to my surprise, I was sent to the office to wait for my mom to pick me up. This is what I feared in the first place, all I had done was prolong it. My mother came into the front office to sign me out and this time I realized why this was such a big deal for my mom. I seen it in her face, she seemed pissed about it because this was as embarrassing for her with the other adults as it was for me with my peers. It all made sense now why she hated it when I got Head Lice and why her anger and other emotions made me feel like it was my fault or like she was mad at me. I had Headlice often, usually when some of my cousins would visit. Every time, the school would send me to the office with headlice, all the other kids knew I had it and never wanted to sit by me or hang out with me at recess. I haven't had headlice sense first grade but do you know the one time my daughter caught it, I had anxiety about it and I even felt upset which to me wasn't warranted. It's funny how something so insignificant can affect us. It's difficult to fit in, when you always stand out.

He says, "ok wait, tell me if you've heard this one", as he slaps me gently in the chest with the back of his hand. I roll my eyes with a look of annoyance as I turn my head to look away. I've done this before you know, dated someone superficial but very good looking just to prove to people I was pretty. I cared so much about what others thought, that I would rather sit there and listen to his shit instead of just being alone or with someone I'm more compatible with. The first time he hit me I must have been around fifteen years old. We were at school walking down the hall and he thought this guy was looking at me funny. He slammed me into the locker, put his face really close to mine and said, "don't ever let me catch you talking to any other guys. This kept up and got worse. I had so much confusion, and fear, and wasn't really sure what to do. I knew it was wrong, I just didn't know how to live without him. I'm an emotional eater and couldn't really share what was going on with anyone, instead I hid it and ate my feelings right along with the rest of the fridge. He was my first boyfriend and later my kids dad. He was actually my first everything. With that being my first experience of what I thought was love, I let the abuse, verbal and physical go on for years, needless to say so did my eating problems. The more I tried to lose the weight the more I gained. My dad had jokes, "When Martha Lynn sits around the house, she sits around the house", putting emphasis on the word "around" and putting their hands really far out on each of their sides indicating large. Another one was Aunt Georgia, "Martha Lynn is like the World's Faire she gets bigger and better every year. Yeah, I did. Don't get me wrong, I joked with them in the same manner at times, that's just the type of family we are.

Two kids later I wasn't just not losing any weight, I was gaining, and gaining. I'd never feel like I'd fit in now, I was lard ass from the movie, "Stand By Me". All I kept thinking was how out of control my life was and how I could fix it? I was twenty three years old and having a Gastric Bypass. I lost about 120 lbs., yes a whole person and I've maintained it for about 16 years now. I'm sure you can guess, I didn't stop there. I had to get a tummy tuck and breast implants. When was enough, enough? When would I ever be enough? I was treated different by outsiders than the people close to me in my life. This was because nothing about me on the inside had changed. This was the most desperate, challenging, and hardest thing I had ever done. Let me takes this time to remind you, I squeezed a kid out of my vagina, had another one cut from my stomach emergency C-Section, and lived with an abusive dick for about 10 years now. This was still by far the hardest thing I had ever done. When I left the hospital they gave me a small pillow to hold against my stomach wound when I coughed. It was about 14 inches by about 9 inches. It was light blue and had the outline of the gastric bypass surgery I had and on the other side all of the Doctor's, Surgeon, and Physicians Assistants signed the other side with small messages of luck. I have long sense gotten rid of the pillow however, I'll never forget what one Physicians Assistants wrote. His message said, " Welcome to the other side". I didn't have a clue what that meant at that time. It was only after I lost the weight did I realize what he could have meant. I was treated differently by everyone I knew and even people I didn't know. It was a different side, meaning the looks you get, even getting more smiles from people than I use to. I was a different person on the inside than I was on the outside. I was still that fat girl on the inside, the one my brothers called, "lard ass". When I bought clothes, I bought over sized clothes that covered all my extra skin. When I looked in the mirror I still seen fat me instead of healthier me. I needed to find a way to embrace the healthy me and shake what my momma gave me. I needed to accept my new self... easier said than done.

I use to think, "Gosh, I wish I could be like so and so. He doesn't care what anyone thinks". The truth is I don't want to be like him actually, It's uncomfortable and sometimes I'm embarrassed for him. I think we put too much of our responsibility for our happiness and comfortableness on other people. If we look at ourselves and our actions or reactions instead of looking at what others are doing or how they act or feel about us. I think maybe we can be at peace and work on ourselves. We should be ourselves and if that means being embarrassed by my psoriasis and choosing to cover it up around certain people than that's just me. I'm working on looking within myself and digging out the confidence I need but on my time. I think my advice for anyone who is ashamed, feels left out, embarrassed or struggles with fitting in is, have patience with yourself. It's ok to be your authentic self, but mind your surroundings and it's ok to want to look the part. When someone says to me, "you don't need all that makeup", or "who are you getting dressed up for?" I look at them now and say, "Me". I think that social media has made all of these issues much harder to work out but hang in there. Start caring more about how you feel and heal. I know, I know, life is too short and all that jazz but we are all here until we are not. Even though tomorrow could be my last day on earth, I still live like I have many years to come. I could never heal by tomorrow. Take things one day and one step at a time. You feel how you feel, no one can feel for you. I am validating that the life you lived may have caused you pain and you are who you are because of it. If that includes insecurities then so be it. You're still amazing, beautiful, smart, and so am I. Also, on occasion if you feel like you're not fitting in, take a step back and re-evaluate if you even want to. You'll find most of the time in those situations, You don't really want to belong to that crowd after all. Be authentic and genuine, surround yourself with people who give you a positive vibe and build you up. Most of all, be your own biggest fan.