Yesterday, I had the horrible feeling of being in eighth grade again. Let me explain why this is a bad thing… When I was in eighth grade, I went to a private Christian school. I was one of five students in the class. The other four students were the popular crowd. I was the nerd. I studied hard and got all the highest scores in the class. I was also the first one to jump in and help anyone with anything without being asked. And I was the bullied girl left sitting alone at the opposite end of the lunch table every day and snickered at during class. The other four hated me. It was so bad, the principal’s wife asked me to help the kindergarten teacher during my lunch time with taking the littles ones out to recess. Soon five year olds were the most positive interaction I received. I would cry myself to sleep at night because of comments whispered about me. Every teacher could see what was happening but none did a thing about it.
Now that you have an idea about my eighth grade year, let me explain why I felt like I was back in that circumstance again. As I’ve shared on here (I think), I had a car wreck last Wednesday that has left me pretty shaken up. When I finally returned to work on Monday (yesterday), I figured I would at least get a how are you doing from my coworkers. Radio silence minus maybe one person. I was still in pain and reeling from having to drive the same path to work as the accident. Perhaps my expectations were too high to expect someone to ask me how I was or to notice I wasn’t do all that well, but I, honestly don’t think that is too much to ask.
The day dragged and I couldn’t help but feel like the ignored little girl of my youth. Finally, I got to go home. At home, I threw myself into my new goal of homemaking distracting myself from the hurt I felt. When my fiancé got home from work, I begged him to drive me to town to the store because I was afraid of driving. He did. We spent two hours walking outside with the baby in the middle of the night while I had a mental and emotional breakdown because of my fear and hurt feelings. When we got home, I promptly fell asleep into a dreamless sleep for three hours before getting up today to return to work.
Thinking about the order of events, I can say that yes, I over-reacted from raw feelings. But also, to expect someone to be ok from something traumatic like that is outrageous. I can see where maybe it’s time we learned a little sensitivity towards others and reminded ourselves to just ask someone how they are because even just that could make someone’s day. It sure would have made mine.
But here’s the thing….I also didn’t speak up for what I needed.
Just when I thought I was starting to figure out everything and become this strong, independent woman, I failed to do something as simple as say “Hey, I need to talk to someone. Will you listen to me?” I tell clients all the time to advocate for themselves and that people can’t read minds yet I failed to follow my own advice. So Here’s to making that change and asking for what I need.
When did you fail to ask for what you need? Do you need something right now? How can I help you today?