Making It Right
We’ve all done things we regret. I dare say that anyone who has announced “I have no regrets” is either lying to others or to themselves. I’m not justifying what I did. I’m simply trying to explain what happened, where I was coming from, and then beg for forgiveness. I’ve carried this guilt for 21 years and it’s time to come clean.
I was depressed in middle school. In fact, grades 5-8 were probably the most difficult years of my life. I was awkward. My parents were divorced and I lived with my dad. I never had that “mother instruction” for things like dressing, doing my hair, and wearing make-up. To top it off, I had Coke-bottle glasses and braces. I also lived with four younger brothers. My step-mom didn’t work (I’m not saying that was bad, because I’m all for stay-at-home moms), so my dad was supporting five kids by himself, plus a little child support that came in from my mom. So, money was stretched relatively thin and the majority of my clothes came from Target. This was before Target was considered cool. Believe me, it added to my complex. During middle school, it’s safe to say I hated myself. I was convinced no one would ever like me – not the cool girls and certainly not boys. Have you seen the movie “13 Going On 30
I have to stop my story for just a moment to give an illustration that sums up middle school. It was the day before the last day of 7th grade. At the time, Kendra P. was one of the cool girls. (When I look back, I don’t know why. It baffles me what sets some girls apart. She wasn’t THAT special. None of the “cool” girls were THAT special. Anyway…) So, Kendra calls me and asks what I’m doing on the last day of school. Of course, I had no plans. She asked if I could help her babysit her nephew. What? Me? You want to hang out with me? Sure! Well, when I arrived at her house, I immediately realized that “we” would not be babysitting. “I” would be babysitting, while Kendra went to an end-of-the-year pool party for the cool people. I was not invited to that party. I still get a lump in my throat thinking about the rejection and humiliation.
Back to fifth grade and my depression, desperation to be cool, awkwardness, etc.
There was a girl in my grade named Marjorie Voss, a name that will forever be etched into my brain. While the cool girls were indifferent to me, they hated Marjorie. I honestly have no idea why. When I look at class pictures, she was an adorable girl – much more beautiful than most of the “cool” girls, actually. But for whatever reason, the cool girls seized every opportunity to make fun of her. Secretly, I was heartbroken for her, but at the same time, terrified that the ridicule would soon turn my direction.
My class was in the gym for P.E. It was “free day,” which basically meant that as long as you weren’t sitting there picking your nose, you were allowed to do whatever activity you wanted in the gym. Little did I know, this would be the day I would regret for 21 years.
The cool girls stood in an impenetrable circle, twirling their hair and talking about how much better they were than the general public. I sat there wallowing in self-pity, when suddenly the devil possessed my body and I did the unthinkable. I called Marjorie’s name, just loud enough for the holier-than-thou bunch to hear me. I then asked her if she wanted to come hang out with me and be my friend. Her face lit up like a Christmas tree being lit for the first time. I suspect this was the first time she had ever been asked this question. “Sure!” she exclaimed, with a huge smile on her face. I started laughing… a wicked, fake laugh… and told her, “Yeah, right! As if!” The cool girls started laughing, but were not impressed enough to ask me to join their circle of bitchiness.
Romans 7:15 says, “I don’t understand myself at all, for I really want to do what is right, but I don’t do it. Instead, I do the very thing I hate.” Dear God, in all that is in me, I wish I could erase that day from my memory. No. I wish I could erase it from history. I can’t tell you how many times that scene has played in my head. What the hell was wrong with me? Why did I let my own insecurities override my compassion for others?
Marjorie, if you ever read this, I am so, so sorry. Truly. From the bottom of my heart. You did nothing to deserve that sort of treatment from me or from anyone else. For any part that I played in bringing you pain, I ask for your forgiveness. I would love to have an opportunity to speak with you. So, if you come across my blog, please contact me at lori@saczynski.com. Thank you.
I’m crying now.
Lori, It shows what a compassionate person you are that this still bothers you. I’m sure Marjorie is fine. Forgive yourself. ~
You should google her or classmates.com her. Good blog post though.
Wow. You just brought up a flood of memories to me, that are also forever etched in my brain. I want to cry, and almost am. The feelings of wanting to fit in never elude us. And I HOPE our children are “cool” because they know they are, not because they have to define themselves by other coolios’ standards. It makes me want to share a memory my mother gave me, versus one of my own: a kid she knew was poor, growing up in “the view,” so poor in fact that the floor of their home was dirt. He’d come to school sometimes w/out shoes. Well, most of the time. My mom was a sweetheart, but for some reason one day in class, as he was asleep while the teacher was teaching, my mother embarrassed him by calling him out in front of the whole class -for sleeping. The teacher came up to him and woke him up by batting him on the head, hard, in front of everyone’s laughter, waking him with a jolt, and causing him major discomfort. She’s always remembered what she did, and doesn’t know why. She was always nice to the kid, but for some reason that day, she turned him in for sleeping. He was sent to the principal’s office. He never graduated, in fact I think he quit coming to school, and his family moved away. The reason he was sleeping was b/c he worked hard on their “farm” each and every day, in order to help his family survive. Sad.
Now on that note, she’d be real po’d knowing I just told this story on your blog!! BUT, it’s a story she’s told Lydia, in hopes of teaching that we don’t make fun of people for their awkwardness or shortcomings, especially those less fortunate than we.
Aw Lori. I have a similar story, and our middle school traumas are alike as well. I have actually reconnected with the “Marjorie” of my situation, and we are BFFs. I am so sure she too would hug you and love you just as we all do for being the wonderful human you are.
Oh man! The fact that you have only ONE time that stands out is applaudable!! I think it was only natural for you to want to be part of the cool girls. That’s really all you were doing…I feel sorry for BOTH of you!
Favorite post #2. Because it is real. Because this is the reality of living in the earth suit. We do things we can’t take back. And we have to live with knowing what lurks in us, and what it can do to others. I’m glad you chose to talk about this.
What?! I wasn’t one of the cool girls? Just kidding. LOL I remember that name, Marjorie Voss, but not her face.
I didn’t know you felt that way about yourself.
You were my best friend and I thought you were pretty cool. I was even a little jealous of you! You always had new white Keds and such pretty thick hair. You lived in a big house and you had a cool and large bedroom. At least it seemed that way to me. And you were sooooooooooo smart and creative. Remember we used to cut pics of people out of magazines and write/make up stories about them?
I was even jealous of your glasses. I ALWAYS wanted glasses. I think I may have associated intelligence with glasses. Young people…*shakes head*
Anyway, as children we all do things that aren’t kosher…that’s just part of childhood and growing up. You didn’t mean it.