Damaged?

So I grew up a long time ago. Like pretty early compared to most of the people I know. In the last few years I’ve come to be at peace with who I am, but what happened tonight made me question everything I believe to be true about myself.

1990 marked the 100th anniversary of one Orangevale Open Elementary. All I really remember is a parade and dressing up like a flapper. Or something.

I had forgotten that at the end of second grade the entire school participated in the creation of a time capsule. Until a month or so ago.

The messages started on facebook- it has been 20 years- time to open it up and see what we put inside. Soon came emails, reminders and then I had it in my calendar. Why not? It would be great to take a step back in time.
I was really excited to see old friends, and actually had a great time. I was not prepared for the aftermath.

To fully understand, I’ve got to start at the beginning.

My first day of kindergarten found me at Orangevale Open, bright eyed and excited to learn. I had several preschool pals making the journey with me, and I looked forward to circle time, show and tell and to wearing art smocks. Really.
My teacher was Jim. Yes, I called him by his first name- we all did. That was just how the school was. Casual, comfortable, friendly and like a family. Parents were very involved, and we all hugged each other. It seems normal to me, but I’m only now realizing what a truly special place it really was.

I remember crying on my last day of kindergarten, feeling so sad about leaving my beloved teacher. The irony was his daughter ended up being one of my best friends and later recalling how much I loved him became a pretty funny memory. The significance is really about how attached I was to a man. Even at 5 years old. I felt no fear in that.

Growing up at that school brought me teachers like Sally for First grade, Susie for Second, and an all time favorite, Pat for Third. Pat was a soccer player and broke her leg that year. I remember her being rolled in on her wheelchair with a cast to her hip. She was absent for a large portion of time, and a classmate’s mom filled in. That was the year I was in my first musical “The Perfect Fit”, and had my first singing solo as Morty the head elf. I tried out for the part in front of the entire class with no fear. There wasn’t much I was afraid of. Third grade was also the start of love notes and boys asking girls “out”. I’m pretty certain I got more than my fair share.

Fourth grade I learned about California history from Jill. That year I got my first pair of glasses and took my first timed math tests. I was in the new portable classroom. We ended the year as every other- the annual end of school trip to the river- Negro Bar. I think that may have been the first year of the bikini. It certainly was the year of sex ed and puppy love.

Fifth grade brought me my first torn ligament and first crush. Matt McKerras. He helped me with my books while I was on crutches. We passed notes, and once got caught by our teacher Jeanne. We didn’t get in trouble, one of many reasons that made her one of my favorites- even still. That year I understood the beginnings of the United States, and began my love of all things history. I also realized what a cool dad I had. On a overnight field trip he surprised the class and met us for pizza- on him. The boy crushing on me even told my dad he loved me. That was when I learned my face turns red when I’m humiliated.

Sixth grade brought me back to Susie. A strange year. I was fully obsessed with soccer and my friends. A born leader of the pack and a dynamic kid in any situation- I got more than my fair share of friends. I realized I could pass classes without really doing homework that year. I got braces and quit wearing the glasses. I went to my first concert that year- Billy Joel. We learned that year of the highly active parents desire to make the school a K-8. I didn’t want to leave, but I wanted to move on. After all, my home junior high school was literally across the street from my home. We ended the year with a week long trip to Yosemite. I thought I was in love, but then the summer began and the soccer field and telephone monopolized my time.

We were the guinea pig class to pilot the Seventh grade addition. We had Judi and Pat for teachers. I loved music and spending time with friends. All through the years I’d mastered the art of turning down boys. No one peaked my interest enough. I won the role of Sandy in the play “Grease”. I was a good kid, surrounded by good friends, parents of friends who all helped each other out and I felt loved, secure and believed I would have a solid future attending Stanford University on a soccer scholarship.

The school and community I came from were one of a kind. My family lived close to the school and had kids in and out on a regular basis. Kids walked home with us and stayed until sports practice, or till parents could cone get them. We all knew each other well- parents and kids alike.

And it was that summer I became damaged.

Tonight I was in a cafeteria of people who knew my dad. Many of them mentioned him. Teachers told me they will never forget my family- the loss we suffered that summer. I heard from 4 people how much I look like my dad. I stood in one spot for most of the night while parents, teachers and old friends sought me out. I heard more times than I can count how beatiful I am. I stood with a group of guys as one revealed his childhood crush on me- to which another responded “which guy in our class wasn’t in love with Beth?”. I laughed and explained how glad I was to have made school so memorable.

I laughed.

I made lots of other people laugh.

I felt like I was ME again. Leaving my heart sank. We opened a moment in history and it exposed an incredible wound I had not even seen myself.

There were girls there who cried with me the night I watched my dad die. Girls who got me my first cigarettes and introduced me to the people who introduced me to pot. Girls who knew me *before*. And know the mess I became *after*.

I’ve changed a lot in the past several years. I always believed my changes were for the good. Tonight I realized they have not all been good.

I lost myself nearly 15 years ago. There are only a handful of people who know that, and until a few hours ago, I wasn’t one of them.

I spoke with my mom, who had decided not to go, about the experience I had. I saw myself through the eyes of many people long forgotten, avoided. I was struggling to articulate what it felt like. She and I both settled on the same phrase “before I became damaged” speaking in near unison.

The words hurt. I tell myself regularly I am ok with the loss of my dad. But I am not ok with the loss of me.

I’ve been listening to the song “Healing Begins”. No one lyric has ever felt more prophetic.

I’ve spent a lot of time and money to figure out what’s wrong with me physically. I think I have my answer: there’s a size six, fearless, life loving, kick-ass athlete inside of me. I buried her deep the day we buried my dad. I think I hoped to never feel that deep of pain again.

She is inside me kicking and screaming, begging me to let her out.

I’m not sure how.

But, this feels like a start. Acknowledging how hard things have been. How hard I fought to survive. Just how much pain I am really in, and understanding that it is years and years of abandonment, betrayal, abuse, blame, rejection and fear.

I’m not ok. Which is ok. I’m writing this here, because it’s going to take a long time to heal. It’s going to take a miracle to find myself again.

Lucky for me, I know someone in the miracle business. And here is where MY healing begins.

HEALING BEGINS
Tenth Avenue North



So you thought you had to keep this up
All the work that you do
So we think that you’re good enough
And you just can’t believe it’s not enough
All the walls you built up
Are just glass on the outside

So let ‘em fall down
There’s freedom waiting in the sound
When you let your walls fall to the ground
We’re here now

This is where the healing begins
This is where the healing starts
When you come to the broken within
The light meets the dark
The light meets the dark

Afraid to let your secrets out
Everything that you hide
Can come crashing through the door now
But too scared to face all your fear
So you hide but you find
That the shame won’t disappear

Sparks will fly as grace collides
With the dark inside of us
So please don’t fight
This coming light
Let this blood come over us
His blood can cover us