Today was Therapy Thursday. It's funny how often these sessions bring me here to my blog page, even though it's been a while. For tonight's session I had sent an email to the Rug Doctor telling her what I wanted to talk about. I think most of my peeps know that I am a vivid dreamer and that my subconscious tries to work a lot of things out in my sleep, but there is one recurring person in my dreams that has been bugging me for a while. I told the Rug Doctor I wanted to talk through it and that I thought it had a lot to do with my late high school years. She was game and thought it was actually a good idea.
In preparation, last night I went through my old scrapbook and found my senior year pictures.
I looked at them long and hard. I remember that 18 year old girl. I remembered how she felt. I stared at these pictures, memories flooding back. This girl had a smile on her face. This girl made it Kindergarten through 12th grade. She survived it all - the teasing, fat shaming, depression, the battle with food, trying to fit in, always feeling not pretty enough, too fat, not smart enough, just a farmer girl that rode horses, band geek, the girl that no boy ever wanted to date, the secrets at home that none of the other kids knew. It was a hell of a ride. But this girl, as strong as she was to survive it all, still holds the power over the 46 year old that sits here at the keyboard now.
What you don't see in these pictures is the anguish she felt with her family's struggles. Her Dad's abusive behaviors and his alcoholism, the fact that we lived barely surviving financially so that we could have the horses and show them and live the farm life we did. You wouldn't know from looking at these pictures that this girl would take her lunch in the library every day. A lunch that consisted of a Slim Fast shake and an apple. She didn't want people to see her eat. You wouldn't know that she would sit in the middle of her bedroom on the floor at night and sob and cry and beg for God to help her and to make the pain stop. Beg God to make her Dad stop the violence. You wouldn't know that she cried herself to sleep sometimes because she just wanted a boy to like her for who she was. Not any boy, but one specific boy. This is the boy that brings us to tonight's therapy session.
This boy. He was the one that was my crush. He was a friend and he did not feel the same way about me, but he was never unkind to me about it. In retrospect, as an adult, I can see that while I would have enjoyed having a boyfriend in high school, he was not the one for me. We wouldn't have made sense. He was the all-American boy, handsome, smart, athletic, came from a solid family that went to church. I adored him. I had known him since kindergarten. He would have never dated a girl like me that came from a dysfunctional family and was not a church-goer. I believed in God, but no one in my family was going to church, so I didn't go. I would have given anything for him to like me in that way, but he didn't. At that time, I believed he didn't like me because I was not pretty enough, because I was too fat and not smart enough. Not only did he not like me, but no other boys were coming after me either.
When I graduated high school and we all went our separate ways, I never saw him again. However, the feeling of not being enough, feelings of being unlovable followed me for years after the fact. I'm not blaming any of this on him, it's just how I felt as a result of my experience growing up. As such, I didn't date much at all in my 20's. I was certain that no one would love a fat girl like me.
Fast forward to today. I wanted to talk about this boy, this Mr. HS Crush because he has been appearing in my dreams for quite a while now. On and off for years, but over the last year, it's almost constant. They are not romantic dreams at all. His presence is simply there. I see him in the dream, but I don't necessarily interact with him. I want him to go away. I don't want to wake up and remember he was in the dream, because it just brings me back to my horrible self-image. His presence reminds me that I am not worthy of attraction or love.
The Rug Doctor and I talked about it and she wholeheartedly agreed that his appearance in the dream is a representation of those feelings. It isn't about him at all. I was in my "formative years" and he was who I was holding on to for validation that I was wanted and lovable. My Dad should have provided some of that validation, but he didn't. I know that he loved me and that he was proud of me, but he was so engrossed with his personal demons, that he didn't give me what I needed.
So, why is Mr. HS Crush showing up? I have a loving, attentive and committed husband. Shouldn't that be enough? Shouldn't that make Mr. HS Crush's appearances a thing of the past? Apparently not. I tell myself that I have made peace with the past. That I have let that go and that I know my parents did the best they could and that I am okay with who I am. So, what's my problem? Why am I so freaking insecure on the inside still? I know those feelings weren't created overnight and sometimes it takes a while to overcome them, but I want them to go away. Why won't they?
I told the Rug Doctor that I've recently been having anxiety about Shark Bait and his health. I'm so scared I'm going to lose him due to his diabetes. I said, "What if something happens to him? I'm done. I found the one guy that wants me. No one else ever has, so what are the chances anyone else would? Like, I found him, latched on and tagged him liked a downed deer." Rug Doctor says that isn't true. I went on, as I often do, sobbing, and telling the story like a victim of a crime, "No. It's like I am the farmer that is headed out to the turkey pen to get one to kill for Thanksgiving and all of the turkeys scatter. I managed to net the one that had a broken wing and an eye pecked out by the other turkey's so he couldn't really see me coming. I netted that bastard and called it a day. He never saw the crazy coming." Sometimes it's hard for the Rug Doctor to keep a straight face when I'm sobbing, being dramatic and then commence cry-laughing like a crazy person. She's a freaking trained professional, I tell you that. I do like to challenge her though.
Anyway, Rug Doctor said there is no way that he is the blind and broken turkey and that I can't think like that. I then told her what happened just last weekend as I was dressed up as a fat Julia Roberts in the sequel to Pretty Woman called Pretty Fat Woman. I jokingly (and frankly, rather seductively) said to Shark Bait, "So, do you think I can make some extra money tonight?" Referencing my tall black boots, heavy make-up with fake eye lashes and a stuffed bra (a rolled up t-shirt in each cup as well as random accessories for the night, lip gloss, lip stick, hair clips, tissue...my phone). He says, "What are we talking, the full deal or just a blow job?" I said, "I'm not at total whore, I'm just trying to pay the bills, not make enough money for a tropical vacation...just a BJ. What do you think? Should I charge...what...$25, $50....hell, maybe even $75!" Shark Bait says, I shit you not, "I wouldn't go as high as $75, maybe $50." I sat there and stared at the side of his head as he drove us to the party, boring holes in the side of it with my eyes. Anyway, things started to digress in my discussion with the Rug Doctor.
I asked the Rug Doctor what I was going to do about all this insecurity and that I don't consciously feel that insecure. She talked about how it all came to be and how I need to be compassionate to myself, blah, blah, blah. Told me about a gal at her high school that used to say how she knew all the guys wanted to bone her and how popularity isn't always a positive thing, blah, blah, blah. I told her, "We had a graduating class of around 120-150, if I remember correctly...NO ONE wanted to bone me. Look at the girl in those pictures, no one wanted to bone her." She said there is no way I could possibly know that and that I don't know what other people were feeling. While I wasn't psychic, I wasn't blind or deaf either. However, to all of you reading, if anyone knows of someone I went to school with that wanted to bone me, could you let me know? It might make me feel better. Unless it's some fat kid. Ew. (Do you see what I did there?) As a matter of fact, it doesn't have to be anyone I went to school with...if you've seen it in the bathroom on the wall...in a subway...really, anything. Don't worry, I'm not really measuring my worth on my fuckibility (it's hard to know how to spell that since I don't really think it's a word), I think more of myself than that. Honestly. (but again, if you know someone...)
So, apparently, my homework from the Rug Doctor is this: I'm supposed to write a love letter from 46 yr old Cassondra to the 16-18 year old Cassondra in my pictures, specifically, she pointed to this one:
Dear 18 year old Cassondra,
First, you needed a better bra under this dress, what the hell where you thinking? Are you even wearing a bra? This isn't the raging 60's! Secondly, I'm sorry you didn't get bigger boobs, that isn't going to change, but someday you'll meet a woman named Victoria, ask her for her secret.
I want you to know, you are the skinniest in this picture that you are ever going to be, so take pride in that. You work hard on the farm with all of your chores, you work hard with the horses and that is your real love. High school isn't your love, it is a necessity. It is a rite of passage. It's temporary and a small portion of your life. And you are doing the best you can. No matter what is going on in your life, you get up and you take on the next day. You never give up while so many people do. You don't drink, do drugs or tramp around. Sure, mostly that's because no one wants to bone you, but even if they did, you'd say no because you respect yourself too much to just give it up for some Barney. Being in love means something to you and you don't give your love easily. Cherish that and eventually, the one that earns your love will also cherish it.
Don't worry if you are pretty enough. You are. For every person that tells you that you'd be pretty if you lost weight, remember, they'd be prettier if they saw people for who they are instead of outward appearances. And also, you are pretty, as is. And lovable? If people only knew what you had to offer, they would regret never giving you the chance. You are fiercely loyal, which is a hard thing to find in a friend and a good listener. You are there when people need you. You get what you see and your honesty may be blunt, but it comes from the heart. You don't hurt people just to hurt them. That's not who you are. Sadly, you've lashed out in retaliation too many times. It wears on you, because that isn't who you are. You know that your unkind words do not heal the pain you feel when hurt, but you're only human. Forgive yourself.
You are smart. You may not understand advanced math and chemistry, but your gift is your creative mind, your wit and your ability to make people laugh. You are book smart and you will become someone that others depend on for friendship, leadership, opinions, writing help and your creativity. Your mind works in ways that others minds cannot. You have gifts, don't ever sell yourself short.
Someday, you are going to bone someone and you're also going to be good at that. Until then, be patient. Enjoy the time you have with your friends, your horses and your family. Once "the one" comes into your life, all of those dynamics change. Enjoy who you are right now. Enjoy every moment. Don't ever hide, you're worth being seen. You're pretty awesome, believe it and believe in you, you're the one that counts.
You're going to be okay, but it's going to be a hell of a ride. Buckle up.
I love you.
C.
In preparation, last night I went through my old scrapbook and found my senior year pictures.
I looked at them long and hard. I remember that 18 year old girl. I remembered how she felt. I stared at these pictures, memories flooding back. This girl had a smile on her face. This girl made it Kindergarten through 12th grade. She survived it all - the teasing, fat shaming, depression, the battle with food, trying to fit in, always feeling not pretty enough, too fat, not smart enough, just a farmer girl that rode horses, band geek, the girl that no boy ever wanted to date, the secrets at home that none of the other kids knew. It was a hell of a ride. But this girl, as strong as she was to survive it all, still holds the power over the 46 year old that sits here at the keyboard now.
What you don't see in these pictures is the anguish she felt with her family's struggles. Her Dad's abusive behaviors and his alcoholism, the fact that we lived barely surviving financially so that we could have the horses and show them and live the farm life we did. You wouldn't know from looking at these pictures that this girl would take her lunch in the library every day. A lunch that consisted of a Slim Fast shake and an apple. She didn't want people to see her eat. You wouldn't know that she would sit in the middle of her bedroom on the floor at night and sob and cry and beg for God to help her and to make the pain stop. Beg God to make her Dad stop the violence. You wouldn't know that she cried herself to sleep sometimes because she just wanted a boy to like her for who she was. Not any boy, but one specific boy. This is the boy that brings us to tonight's therapy session.
This boy. He was the one that was my crush. He was a friend and he did not feel the same way about me, but he was never unkind to me about it. In retrospect, as an adult, I can see that while I would have enjoyed having a boyfriend in high school, he was not the one for me. We wouldn't have made sense. He was the all-American boy, handsome, smart, athletic, came from a solid family that went to church. I adored him. I had known him since kindergarten. He would have never dated a girl like me that came from a dysfunctional family and was not a church-goer. I believed in God, but no one in my family was going to church, so I didn't go. I would have given anything for him to like me in that way, but he didn't. At that time, I believed he didn't like me because I was not pretty enough, because I was too fat and not smart enough. Not only did he not like me, but no other boys were coming after me either.
When I graduated high school and we all went our separate ways, I never saw him again. However, the feeling of not being enough, feelings of being unlovable followed me for years after the fact. I'm not blaming any of this on him, it's just how I felt as a result of my experience growing up. As such, I didn't date much at all in my 20's. I was certain that no one would love a fat girl like me.
Fast forward to today. I wanted to talk about this boy, this Mr. HS Crush because he has been appearing in my dreams for quite a while now. On and off for years, but over the last year, it's almost constant. They are not romantic dreams at all. His presence is simply there. I see him in the dream, but I don't necessarily interact with him. I want him to go away. I don't want to wake up and remember he was in the dream, because it just brings me back to my horrible self-image. His presence reminds me that I am not worthy of attraction or love.
The Rug Doctor and I talked about it and she wholeheartedly agreed that his appearance in the dream is a representation of those feelings. It isn't about him at all. I was in my "formative years" and he was who I was holding on to for validation that I was wanted and lovable. My Dad should have provided some of that validation, but he didn't. I know that he loved me and that he was proud of me, but he was so engrossed with his personal demons, that he didn't give me what I needed.
So, why is Mr. HS Crush showing up? I have a loving, attentive and committed husband. Shouldn't that be enough? Shouldn't that make Mr. HS Crush's appearances a thing of the past? Apparently not. I tell myself that I have made peace with the past. That I have let that go and that I know my parents did the best they could and that I am okay with who I am. So, what's my problem? Why am I so freaking insecure on the inside still? I know those feelings weren't created overnight and sometimes it takes a while to overcome them, but I want them to go away. Why won't they?
I told the Rug Doctor that I've recently been having anxiety about Shark Bait and his health. I'm so scared I'm going to lose him due to his diabetes. I said, "What if something happens to him? I'm done. I found the one guy that wants me. No one else ever has, so what are the chances anyone else would? Like, I found him, latched on and tagged him liked a downed deer." Rug Doctor says that isn't true. I went on, as I often do, sobbing, and telling the story like a victim of a crime, "No. It's like I am the farmer that is headed out to the turkey pen to get one to kill for Thanksgiving and all of the turkeys scatter. I managed to net the one that had a broken wing and an eye pecked out by the other turkey's so he couldn't really see me coming. I netted that bastard and called it a day. He never saw the crazy coming." Sometimes it's hard for the Rug Doctor to keep a straight face when I'm sobbing, being dramatic and then commence cry-laughing like a crazy person. She's a freaking trained professional, I tell you that. I do like to challenge her though.
Anyway, Rug Doctor said there is no way that he is the blind and broken turkey and that I can't think like that. I then told her what happened just last weekend as I was dressed up as a fat Julia Roberts in the sequel to Pretty Woman called Pretty Fat Woman. I jokingly (and frankly, rather seductively) said to Shark Bait, "So, do you think I can make some extra money tonight?" Referencing my tall black boots, heavy make-up with fake eye lashes and a stuffed bra (a rolled up t-shirt in each cup as well as random accessories for the night, lip gloss, lip stick, hair clips, tissue...my phone). He says, "What are we talking, the full deal or just a blow job?" I said, "I'm not at total whore, I'm just trying to pay the bills, not make enough money for a tropical vacation...just a BJ. What do you think? Should I charge...what...$25, $50....hell, maybe even $75!" Shark Bait says, I shit you not, "I wouldn't go as high as $75, maybe $50." I sat there and stared at the side of his head as he drove us to the party, boring holes in the side of it with my eyes. Anyway, things started to digress in my discussion with the Rug Doctor.
I asked the Rug Doctor what I was going to do about all this insecurity and that I don't consciously feel that insecure. She talked about how it all came to be and how I need to be compassionate to myself, blah, blah, blah. Told me about a gal at her high school that used to say how she knew all the guys wanted to bone her and how popularity isn't always a positive thing, blah, blah, blah. I told her, "We had a graduating class of around 120-150, if I remember correctly...NO ONE wanted to bone me. Look at the girl in those pictures, no one wanted to bone her." She said there is no way I could possibly know that and that I don't know what other people were feeling. While I wasn't psychic, I wasn't blind or deaf either. However, to all of you reading, if anyone knows of someone I went to school with that wanted to bone me, could you let me know? It might make me feel better. Unless it's some fat kid. Ew. (Do you see what I did there?) As a matter of fact, it doesn't have to be anyone I went to school with...if you've seen it in the bathroom on the wall...in a subway...really, anything. Don't worry, I'm not really measuring my worth on my fuckibility (it's hard to know how to spell that since I don't really think it's a word), I think more of myself than that. Honestly. (but again, if you know someone...)
So, apparently, my homework from the Rug Doctor is this: I'm supposed to write a love letter from 46 yr old Cassondra to the 16-18 year old Cassondra in my pictures, specifically, she pointed to this one:
Dear 18 year old Cassondra,
First, you needed a better bra under this dress, what the hell where you thinking? Are you even wearing a bra? This isn't the raging 60's! Secondly, I'm sorry you didn't get bigger boobs, that isn't going to change, but someday you'll meet a woman named Victoria, ask her for her secret.
I want you to know, you are the skinniest in this picture that you are ever going to be, so take pride in that. You work hard on the farm with all of your chores, you work hard with the horses and that is your real love. High school isn't your love, it is a necessity. It is a rite of passage. It's temporary and a small portion of your life. And you are doing the best you can. No matter what is going on in your life, you get up and you take on the next day. You never give up while so many people do. You don't drink, do drugs or tramp around. Sure, mostly that's because no one wants to bone you, but even if they did, you'd say no because you respect yourself too much to just give it up for some Barney. Being in love means something to you and you don't give your love easily. Cherish that and eventually, the one that earns your love will also cherish it.
Don't worry if you are pretty enough. You are. For every person that tells you that you'd be pretty if you lost weight, remember, they'd be prettier if they saw people for who they are instead of outward appearances. And also, you are pretty, as is. And lovable? If people only knew what you had to offer, they would regret never giving you the chance. You are fiercely loyal, which is a hard thing to find in a friend and a good listener. You are there when people need you. You get what you see and your honesty may be blunt, but it comes from the heart. You don't hurt people just to hurt them. That's not who you are. Sadly, you've lashed out in retaliation too many times. It wears on you, because that isn't who you are. You know that your unkind words do not heal the pain you feel when hurt, but you're only human. Forgive yourself.
You are smart. You may not understand advanced math and chemistry, but your gift is your creative mind, your wit and your ability to make people laugh. You are book smart and you will become someone that others depend on for friendship, leadership, opinions, writing help and your creativity. Your mind works in ways that others minds cannot. You have gifts, don't ever sell yourself short.
Someday, you are going to bone someone and you're also going to be good at that. Until then, be patient. Enjoy the time you have with your friends, your horses and your family. Once "the one" comes into your life, all of those dynamics change. Enjoy who you are right now. Enjoy every moment. Don't ever hide, you're worth being seen. You're pretty awesome, believe it and believe in you, you're the one that counts.
You're going to be okay, but it's going to be a hell of a ride. Buckle up.
I love you.
C.
