It started in Junior High
March 25, 2007We moved just as I entered junior high school. Making the transition from elementary school to junior high is a tough experience for any twelve-year-old, but mine was a disaster.
There were eleven of us “new” kids, and for the first two days we were tested to see if we could fill-in the right little bubbles with marks from number 2 pencils.
On the morning of the third day we were told to report to the Vice Principals office for our class schedule. It was a pink slip with room numbers and teacher’s names, but no map. The clock was ticking and I had no idea where Room 17 was. I was late, and new, and lost.
By the time I found Room 17, I was terrified. I waited outside the door for a few seconds, trying to collect the courage to walk in. Believe me, I wanted to run away to Australia.
Then, at the moment I opened the door, the class erupted in laughter. I knew they were laughing at me. My skinny frame sported thick horn-rimed glasses and embarrassing new “tin-grin” braces. Not daring to look up, I walked over to the teacher with my eyes fixed on his shoes.
When I handed Mr. Bell my pink slip, he responded, “Oh, no!”
I was stunned, frozen in rejection. I longed for Australia. He pointed to a chair by the door and said, “Sit there for now. We’ll see about getting you a desk tomorrow.” (Later I realized he probably said “oh, no!” because there were no more desks in the room, but I never was quite sure.)
I sat there, never lifting my eyes, replaying Mr. Bells words over and over in my mind. Then as soon as the bell rang I bolted out the door and headed for my next “rejection room,” hoping this terror would soon be over.
Then, I noticed I had Mr. Bell for Science and Math. (Math was in the same now infamous “rejection” room.) This was the original “terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.”
For me, my new school certainly lived up to its name. It was Downer Junior High (Edmond Downer Junior High, San Pablo, CA). God was there that day, but I missed him. I really missed him.
Ron, I am so sorry your grew up with an alcoholic parent and I am sorry my children grew up with one too…me. Perhaps your father drank to fill a deep emptiness in his being. I know that is why I drank.
Maybe the church made him feel as empty as your description in your blog of yourself. The truth was, I never felt I fit in anywhere until I joined AA. There I fit. I didn’t fit in with the church crowd…too much criticism and legalism, not to mention, hypocrisy. The church was another critical parent for me and I could never live up to the rules and judgments. I felt I had to live up to the rules even though I saw others in the church live about the same way people on the outside lived. I was always puzzled about that.
Today I feel I fit in both places, but it is only in recovery that I have begun to feel the way I do now. I do not think I could have ever reached the content feeling I have today had I not joined AA. There I really met God and he was not a menacing figure just waiting to fork me over into hell. I was finally accepted just the way I was and that I was okay even though it seemed everyone else thought I should be a different person. I feel I was terrorized by the church my entire life until I started going to AA and learned about the God of love. I felt terrorized by my family also, because I couldn’t live up to their expectations, never mind the fact that they seldom lived up to mine.
Today I see church in a different light. It is my family and we need each other. I don’t always see things the way some see them, but I am happy in my church. My God is wonderful and he loves me even when others don’t seem too. I am told in AA “God doesn’t make junk”. Today, I know I am not junk! It is really okay to be me.
I am truly happy that your father finally found some peace and that you forgave him. I hope my children will one day forgive me for not being emotionally available to them for the greater part of their growing up years. I would have done better if I could have.
Joyce Lewis