Something's Wrong...

69/100

When I was in high school, there was only one thing I truly ever wanted. Well, besides a boyfriend and to like myself. More than anything I wanted to be in our show choir. I had zero self confidence and I could be difficult to get along with. I had a few good friends, but mostly the other kids were okay to me, or they were horribly cruel. Either way, the one thing I always thought I had going for me, was my singing voice. I could sing two and a half octaves. I had clear pitch. I had (and I would like to say, still have) talent. And more than anything, I wanted to be in show choir. Somehow I felt that if I was in show choir I would be 'okay'. It would somehow make me feel like I belonged somewhere. It would make me part of a group of people I admired. I think it made me think I would be special. Anyhow, I auditioned with the idea that it was a forgone conclusion. I auditioned knowing there really wasn't anyone with a better voice or better attitude for show choir. I was a Gleek before anyone even knew what Gleek meant!

My audition was awesome. I hit every note, smiled, showed my enthusiasm. I pretty much worshipped the woman I was auditioning for... and at that time, I still believed that life was fair. I had talent, therefore I would make it. When she posted the list of people who made the show choir and my name wasn't on it? I was... well... crushed is kind of an understatement. I went to her office, determined to be 'okay' with it. I asked her why. And? She said all kinds of platitudes. She fed me lines like, "You don't blend very well. Your voice is too loud." I didn't understand. I was first alto. I HAD TALENT. Damn it. But I started sobbing. I couldn't stop - and I had this vague feeling that something was wrong. That something wasn't true. That I was being lied to.

As I am a teacher now, it must have been so hard for her to watch me cry like that. I want to think that anyhow. I want to still think that about her. I don't want to think that her image was more important than the devastated child in front of her.

I went home. My dad knew how excited I had been about show choir. He asked me how it went. I started crying again. I told him I didn't make it. I told him what she had said. And in a moment that changed my life forever, he gently, but clearly said, "Honey, it has nothing to do with your voice. You didn't get in because you are fat."

"NO!" I screamed. "She isn't like that!! She TOLD me it was because of my voice!" I screamed at him that he just didn't understand. I think I accused him of lying. My dad realized it was a losing argument and just said in that wonderful but slightly condescending voice, "Okay, honey."

But I knew he was right. It was like a lightbulb exploded in my head. I went back to school the next day and watched the rehearsals for show choir and pretended everything was fine. But I knew something was wrong. I knew I had been lied to. I was never able to shake that feeling. I'm not sure I ever really got past it. It has given me a pretty high bullshit meter. Ask my students, they'll tell you. They often *think* I buy their stories about dogs and homework, but they know and *I* know... BS is BS.

Today, when I start to feel that "something is wrong" feeling, I've learned to trust that on some level I  know something isn't right. I'm probably being lied to or more accurately, either I am being inauthentic or someone around me is. Something doesn't 'feel' right. The problem isn't recognizing something is wrong, the problem is figuring out exactly what that 'wrong' piece is. Part of the problem is that often the lying isn't intentional. The other person perhaps believes what he or she is saying. But the net result is that feeling that 'something is off base. Something is wrong..."

Without going into too much private detail, toward the end of my previous relationship, I had that feeling. I couldn't put my finger on what was 'wrong' but I knew something was.  I was crying a lot, I was frustrated. I was in therapy. I had all these pieces but none of them gelled. I had the frame of the puzzle but no box to guide me in putting together the image. Then, one day my best friend, in one succinct sentence said more or less to me, "MK, what you are describing isn't friendship, it's dating!" and all the issues going on in my situation became clear. It was the reality I didn't want to see. That the person I was with was dating... but it wasn't *me*. The same thing happened the next time I got into a relationship. I was sooo invested and then I had another one of those... 'something is wrong' feelings. This time? I had, without the feedback from friend or father, a shining moment of clarity that I could not doubt or look back on. It was only a month later when I was proved correct and the relationship ended.

It seems like once I establish that something is wrong then have that 'ah-ha' moment, I can't pretend I don't see. It is clear and it is a light bulb moment from which I can't turn back. The stark truth. Unsweetned. Bitter. Unavoidable.

I'm having one of those moments in my life again. A feeling that something is 'wrong'. I both dread the moment of knowing and ache for it to show up. That moment when I can't look back and pretend I don't know what's wrong. But I don't know what is worse - knowing that I am about to have one of those moments, or when the moment actually arrives and I say to myself... "oohhhh... crap. That hurts, but now I know the truth of it. THAT's what I am feeling!"

As painful as that moment in high school was, it forged who I am. It taught me to trust that 'something is wrong' feeling. To figure out how to slice through the bullshit to find the authentic self and the (often painful) truth of things. I still lie to myself at times. I think we all do. But as hard as the truth is to hear, I have learned to honor it and respect it - even when it isn't what I want to do.

Honoring my truth is healthy, even when it hurts. Trusting that voice (even when I'd rather ignore it and hide under the covers of my new, comfy bed) takes courage. I'm glad I have people in my life that hold me up and remind me that healthy? Isn't always easy.

Peace,

MaryKate