The Road to Hell and Back
So, tonight I intended to study for comps, but instead took a trip down memory lane.
Some things happened to me in my childhood that make it one of those Less Than Ideal kinds, but I think I still managed to turn out all right despite all the hardships and curveballs that were thrown my way.
Going through my pictures, and my A.G. portfolio, really brought back for me what was like to be a kid. In reading a lot of the things I wrote, I could either see myself, or a child that I wouldn't identify as myself but would recognize in my students. It was strange to see my handwriting, and see my words, and recognize them as my own ... yet see a total stranger in the utterances.
Maybe this is a normal part of growing up and looking back, or maybe it's a normal part of compartmentalizing a painful part of your history and filing it away as Something That Happened to Someone Else. I'll probably never know, myself. I'm sure it's different for everyone, abused and un-abused, alike.
I don't remember taking the Otis Lennon or the California Achievement tests, but apparently I did at some point in high school, according to my application for Governer's School. I didn't make it in, but I scored in the 97th and 96th percentiles respectively for those tests. I recall both tests being mentioned in my Assessment class a few summers back, and ranking in those percentiles is not something most people can do (hence, 97th and 96th percentiles, duh, I just realized what I wrote ... I'm totally and completely brain-tired right now). I was a little amazed at my scores, but not entirely shocked. I was in the A.G. program, after all, and you have to score above a 120 on an I.Q. test to be admitted for that program. I don't have a copy of my score for that, but other I.Q. tests I've taken place me in the high 140s.
I was one of those children eager to please the adults in my life, and you can tell it in the work I did and the comments those adults in my life left behind in my A.G. portfolio. Mrs. K., the 5th grade A.G. teacher, even went so far as to write "Erica works hard on her tasks. She always has a smile on her face and is quite pleasant. Keep up the great work, Erica!" Mrs. K. When I read this, I very nearly choked on tears that began to well up. All I could think of when reading this was "That was one of the worst years of my life, I've totally blocked it out, and I cannot remember who this woman was. But I remember that being in A.G. in the 5th grade was fun. I remember the things we did in there, and apparently it made me very happy, despite the living hell I was surviving." God, there I go again. Writing about it this time actually did bring a tear or two.
It's hard to describe the feelings a survivor has. Most of the time I can converse or remember what happened to me with a sort of clinical detachment. It does not affect me. I have no feelings or emotional reactions to it one way or another. But sometimes, like tonight, I have this uncontrollable sob fighting to let loose from my chest, and I literally choke on it. I almost never let it out. The few times I have, have been incredibly embarassing and unbearable for me. Crisis Counseling last summer immediately comes to mind.
Seeing this work and these comments, it really drives home and reminds me why I chose to be a counselor in the elementary school system. I enjoyed school. I had fun there. I had nurturing, positive experiences with the adults around me, and despite the tormenting and the teasing I had from my peers, I was happy to be in school learning something new every day.
I want to be that positive, nurturing, SAFE adult in some child's life that really needs it more than anything or anyone could ever possibly imagine who hasn't been there themselves.
I feel a renewed sense of purpose at a time when I've been struggling to convince myself to carry on in my chosen profession. I'm almost done. I can see the finish line. All I need to do now is make it through the home stretch.
I can make a difference.
"I Am Someone Who Makes A Difference," just like the pen that my principal gave me for my birthday this year.
I will make that difference. I will make all the difference.
And that will make it ALL worth while.