It’s been a while, right? When I first began writing Becoming, I felt no inhibition, no fear, no insecurity. But that’s because I hadn’t gotten to the hard part yet.
And in writing it all down, it brought back pain and hurt that had eased…I had forgotten what it felt like to be in the middle of my story. Again, it’s not a terrible tale.
But there has been major healing in these last 10 years of my life…and as I wrote, the hurt became very real again. Very here.
I don’t have the same hurt, but I hurt for the young girl I am writing of. I hurt for her heart. For her sweet spirit.
So I took a little break.
I’m sorry for those of you who were waiting. I want to write for you. But I’m sure there will be times along the way where I’ll disappear into reflection. But I’ll be back.
For those of you who are just coming around, I realize this may sound heavy, and you should know this–I am a writer at my core, and design and painting allowed me to begin writing and make the kinds of friends I could write this story for. Hence, Becoming.
If you haven’t read the first two chapters, you’d better start there…
CHAPTER THREE:
Love people first, and ask questions later.
In the fields of farming cotton and in the orphanage they ran, my grandaddy coined this phrase– lived this way. He taught his son to be that way. So, as we were growing up, my dad would remind my brother and I of this truth all the time. On that day back in ninth grade, my dad had sadly looked into my eyes and said, “I’m so sorry you’re hurting. I’m sorry this is hard.” Okay, good one, Dad. That sounds good…just the pity party I need. But then, gently, he said, “Do you mind if we talk about what you could have done to contribute to the situation?”
WHAT? Me??? What about me…what about them?
In truth, as hard as it was to hear him implicate me, his wisdom to remind me we are the authors of our own course was invaluable. He talked to me that day about empathy…to identify why they acted the way they did. “Why did she say that? Do you think she could have thought you felt too highly of yourself?” He in no way indicated it was all my fault, but he did not allow me wallow.
To shut down in bitterness.
And bless my dad, the very thing he and mom taught us to do…love people first and ask questions later…was exactly what I did.
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It was a Thursday afternoon in January…right after we had gotten back from Christmas break. We were sitting in Coach Ryan’s history class, probably reliving some part of the Civil War that thrilled him much more so than the rest of us. I remember I was sitting still, picking up my pencil and letting it fall over and over again. Listening, but not. I heard the squeaking of the opening door before I saw it.
And he walked in.
His name was Brent. Well, for this story anyway. He was around 6’0, thin with tanned skin. His hair was as black as smut and his eyes were all chocolatey velvet. I remembered him. Didn’t he go to our school before? What was his name? He’s kinda cute. Looks kinda like trouble. Hmmm…
He strode in on lanky legs and quickly handed a yellow slip of paper to Coach Ryan, stuffing his hands in his pockets, his gaze sweeping the room and back up to the ceiling. He was already bored. Coach Ryan told us that Brent would be joining our Junior class–Brent, that was his name.
He sat down beside me-the only empty desk in the room- and so gallantly said, “Sup?” Oh my….he’s certainly a winner. I remember despite his obvious bad boy persona he rocked so well being quite intrigued by him from that first word between us.
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That spring semester, Juniors were granted off-campus lunch on Friday’s. Most of my interaction with Brent up until this point had been quite superficial and no real conversations were had. We caught each other’s eyes here and there, moved on to talking to our friends. He wasn’t in any in-between. He played hard, and other than what he did on his dad’s farm, worked little. He got in trouble A LOT. Many of his Friday off campus lunches were spent in one of our homeroom classes in detention. Because I happened to be neck deep in the lie that I was still hugely overweight (at a size 8), I stayed in many Friday’s to slowly sip on a SlimFast.
It was then we began to talk.
Not really about anything important at first. He’d joke with me about my skills on the basketball court, poke fun at me for being a nerd. I told him he needed to get himself together and get out of detention for once. I felt mildly attracted to him, yet I knew I had zero business thinking about him that way. He was t-r-o-u-b-l-e with a capitol “T.”
I’m not sure how it eventually happened. He asked me out.
It was in April, towards the end of school, and prom was fast approaching. For some reason beyond me, I had agreed to go with my ex, and while I wanted to be his friend, I learned in two and a half seconds that you don’t step into romance induced coma holding your ex’s hand.
It was bad.
Brent and I had agreed to go out the night after prom, as we both had previous commitments to our ex folks. Prom came and went, and my amazing friends and I (along with my ex) headed back to my house to hang afterwards. It was so much fun and my sides hurt for days after all the middle of the night laughter. I was safe, the night was safe, the fun was safe.
The next morning I awoke to a million cell phone calls…and at the time, I wasn’t even allowed to use it that often. I remember being so worried my phone, but quickly my hands went numb and tears stung my eyes.
Brent had kissed someone else. I forgot about the phone.
She was one of my friends, and not the ex he brought to prom. Good grief. What’s his problem? Does he not like me? Will we go out tonight? Was I not beautiful last night? Am I not enough?
Even now as I write, I hear how silly it all sounds. I hear how juvenile it seems…how unimportant.
But my heart tells me differently.
It, like everything else in a teenage girl’s life–and any other girl, for that matter, was important. In fact, it was the most important series of events in my life up until that point. I write because of its weight, its heaviness, and the realization that one day my daughter will have her own important, and I better be wise enough to see it.
It’s why I look at her while she sleeps, whisper to her while I brush her hair, “You’re beautiful just as you are…and not because of your face. Your Spirit–it’s captivating. You are adored, enjoyed, treasured.”
She is perfect just the way she is. And so are your girls.
So are you.
To be continued…
How incredibly cathartic. It’s amazing how much you want to become ‘better’ when you have a wee one.
I have been waiting…well worth the wait.When you said you were a writer first and it allowed you to express your self in the form of art…I can relate.I,too,am a writer but found it difficult to share my writing with any one else and when I would start writing about painful times in my life I was overwhelmed by emotion.I hope to be able to do as you are except in book form.Keep up your fine work.
Goodness, girl. You have me crying this morning. I love reading your story…it reminds me so much of my own. xoxo
Thank you, Myra. Nice to have a friend rooting for me.
😉
xoxo
shaunna
Shaunna, I love reading this story. It brings back so many memories. It brings me back to high school and what went on back then being it either sad and happy. Thank you for opening up your heart and mine.
Susan
Love this! Leaves me wanting to read more….this story is SO like mine, similar things happened to me when I was a freshmen….but it was over a stupid boy! And btw LOVE what you do!! Had to show my husband the paneling idea!!!! Will be looking forward to the next chapter!
Everything in your story rings true about my own life. Its such a good reminder of the Grace of God that we can come out of these situations and look back and know that we are better for having experienced them. Thank youf or sharing your story.
I have a ten month old baby girl, Emmalie Alyssa (Emma). I am overwhelmed with desire to be the type of woman I hope she will be. Strong yet gentle. Meek yet bold. Gracious and compassionate. Joyful and content. Secure. Confident and beautiful not shallow or selfish. Thoughtful without being trampled over… It is such a responsibility. Such an honor. So much of being a woman involves the desire to be loved and wanted and beautiful. We all have so much insecurity and pain in our pasts and sometimes in our present. There is something healing and empowering about a beautiful creative woman being open about it all. It is amazing the strength that can be gained simply by not feeling you are alone or the only one who battles those feelings. Your book is well written and you end each chapter in such a way that the reader wants to “turn the page”. But much more than that your story is a gift to each girl, of any age, who reads it. The gift of not being alone. <3
How brave of you to be so candid with complete strangers. I have struggled with insecurity my entire life, and have just realized the impact it can have on every part of it. I have a little girl as well, and though she is only 7 months, I pray every day that she finds security in the fact that she is a daughter of the KING! Thank you so much for writing this. Your talents are all inspiring!
I try to tell my daughter that all the time. She thinks she’s FAT. Her doctor wrote “overweight” on her pre-surgery evaluation sheet and sent it home with us. She’s not FAT. She has some medical issues that don’t allow her to lose the weight as fast or as easily as she would like to. She has very solid muscles, and she is a VERY strong girl (let’s just say it is not out of the realm that she can take her boy cousins down and beat the holy-living-crap out of them). And she is BEAUTIFUL…BEAUTIFUL. And I can’t get her to believe me. Boys are captivated by her. Not just her face, but by her vivacious, FEARLESS (until she sees herself in the mirror) attitude. She loves life and she loves people. I just wish she would believe that life isn’t entirely about what you look like on the outside and that the world needs people of all shapes and sizes. Thanks for writing this!
shaunna,
thank you for bearing your soul so that other’s can heal through your words. i can so relate to the middle school years, they were as difficult as your have written. i felt myself going back to those days while i read your story…but now i can as an adult see that God allowed those moments to mold me into the person of character that He wanted me to be. still, a work in progress! do i still fall back on some old habits or ways of handling things? oh yes, but He quietly turns me around, one way or another…i just have to be still enough to listen.
love your vulnerability as it shows deep character and a quiet spirit.
love you girl,
judi
Shaunna, how amazing that your story resonates with so many that read it….familiarity….a hurt that we have squished down….but remember so well..
Looking forward to part 4…
Lou Cinda
I’m a high school teacher and even though I am surrounded by high schoolers all day, it’s still great to be reminded of all of the crazy emotions teenagers experience while we expect them to act like adults. Can’t wait to read more!
I promised myself a long time ago not too forget how real and important some of those childhood and adolescent traumas were. What seems so trivial now was truly earth shattering then and I will never forget that – I totally understand where you’re coming from! Those experiences have a huge impact on who we are today.
I just love this story. So many insightful moments and so relatable. I can hardly wait for the next bit……
Thanks for sharing your story with us!!
Shaunna, I had to go back and re-read chapters 1 & 2 to make sure I remembered what had happened correctly……..in part, this could be my story and judging by the comments of most of your readers, their stories as well. My husband and I have often discussed what it is that makes girls/woman feel so insecure and dissatisfied with themselves. Something in our culture doesn’t work the way it should for the female of our species. I do so wish I knew why we make ourselves and each other so miserable about being too fat/thin, short/tall, athletic/nerdy, have curly or straight hair etc. Maybe as a culture we will put it behind us one day….for those coming up I hope so. Thanks again for sharing your story. I love reading it and hope it doesn’t bring you too much pain to tell the rest of it. Take care and know you are helping a lot of women by telling your story so honestly. VBg
Shaunna, you are such a blessing! I love reading your blog and your story. You are an inspiration! Keep it up, all of your many followers love you!
Thank you for sharing another chapter, friend. 🙂
I love you like a sister, and can’t wait to squeeze you soon!
Lay
God gives us many talents and blessing.
We don’t always use them or even know what they are .
You do.
Keep writing all your heart felt memories
and we will keep loving them!
The good news is your daughter will know by the example you show them how to feel secure and good about themselves each day towards others and themselves.
Beautiful, Shaunna. I’ve been right where you are…thus far in the story, that is. Yes, you & your daughter are perfect, my baby girl is perfect, and I’m still a work in progress. I can’t wait for another chapter.
Ahhh, I just want to reach out and hug you. Love your authenticity. You’re the best!
I have two daughters and I cannot tell you how many times I have watched them sleep and prayed for them to be spared the heartaches that are traveling toward them.
Thank you for this – it is nice to remember that our stories are all so similar.
“Love people first, ask questions later”— beautiful!
Kerry at housetalkn.blogspot.com
Shaunna, I am so proud of you for writing your story. I know it must be really difficult, but there is a whole world of young girls that need to know that there is life after all the trauma of the tween and teen years. You write beautifully and leave us breathless waiting for “the rest of the story”.
Shauna,
I thought I missed the end of the story, but I see you just had to step back for a bit. I understand that. I applaud you for even sharing your story as I know bringing back all those memories to the forefront of your life now can be very hard.
Hugs to you my friend for being so bold to share.
Gosh, you are a terrific writer. I only wish that I would have known these truths when I was young. Knowing I wasn’t the only one having these experiences would have made my path lighter – made different choices. Although, I believe we are on a path we are intended to follow – bumps and heartache included. I’m looking forward to your next chapter!
Speakin’ to me…..right to my heart. So many of “us” have a version of your story….keep writing…..healing ALWAYS comes…..
You have me in tears! I think you are capturing in words why I was so terrified of having a girl when we found out what we were having. Now I’m expecting again and at first look they think it’s a boy. Now I’m terrified of having a boy because I want him to treat girls with so much respect. It’s the teenage years I fear the most because they are so difficult! Thanks for sharing…can’t wait for the next chapter!
Shaunna you write so very beautifully. I read your first two installments a few months ago before leaving to go overseas, and reading the continuation of your story was one of the first things I wanted to do when I got back. It almost feels like you waited for me to return before posting your third chapter!
Thank you for making us all remember the irrational, excruciatingly painful thought processes we went through as teenagers. It stops us from looking back and laughing scornfully at ourselves for being so silly and immature, and instead remembering the truth of the situation – that we were still little girls trying to find our place in the world and still learning how to be ourselves. Still are, in fact.