The Sarah Chronicles: Cake, Book Reports & Birthday Suits

Few teachers take up space in Sarah’s mind.

There was the teacher she had three times in elementary school. She remembers her because she liked her and because she had her 3 times: Kindergarten, Second and Fourth Grades.

She remembers the freshman social studies teacher who hired her to babysit his son so she could earn the money to pay for a sports physical and join the cross country running team.

She remembers Mrs. Hall from the continuation school because she noticed a change in Sarah and took the necessary steps to make sure she got the mental health care she needed.

But Mrs. Smith. Mrs. Smith takes up the most space in Sarah’s memory. She was her Sixth Grade teacher and she would change the trajectory of Sarah’s life.

Mrs. Smith was a young teacher and it was her first year teaching at Sarah’s school. She was tall and thin with long, straight blond hair. Sarah was 11-years-old and her experience with Mrs. Smith still haunts her. Just thinking about it makes Sarah shrivel down into nothingness and brings tears to the corners of her eyes.

 

But there was cake

Sarah remembers the map contest. Sarah was part of the group that made the best South American map. It was a large map, drawn on a long stretch of butcher paper with every detail colored in. Sarah remembers the research, the collaboration and the feeling of inclusion while adding the final touches before judging. The reward was a homemade Chocolate Cake Sarah’s group ate while the rest of the students did classwork and had homework assigned.


Abraham Lincoln’s Mother

Each week the students had to write a biographical book report and read it aloud to the class. Sarah doesn’t recall any of the book reports she wrote that year, except for the one on Abraham Lincoln’s mother. Mrs. Smith always asked a question after each presentation and then assigned a grade. After this particular presentation she asked Sarah why Abraham Lincoln’s mother was famous. Sarah thought to herself, because her son was the President. She also thought it was too obvious of an answer. It can’t be right. It’s a trick question. Mrs. Smith is looking for something else. Sarah’s mind raced as she second-guessed herself. She scanned her paper for the answer. She couldn’t think. Her heart was pounding. Before she could utter a word, Mrs. Smith chimed in, “Because her son was the President. D. Sit down.”

There was a distinct tone of sarcasm and disdain in her voice. She may as well have said, “How stupid are you? Her son was the President.”

Sarah slowly walked back to her seat and sank down in shame and disappointment as she tried to ignore the murmurs and whispers from across the room.


The Birthday Suit

The second such instance took place during a lecture. At some point Mrs. Smith used the term birthday suit. Sarah had never heard the term. She didn’t know what it meant. She leaned over to the student sitting next to her and whispered, “What’s a birthday suit? Are we supposed to have one? Do you have one?” Sarah was a welfare kid being raised by a single mother. She thought there was a special suit people were supposed to wear on their birthday that her mother just couldn’t afford.

Mrs. Smith overheard the exchange and stopped dead in her tracks in front of Sarah and said, “Youuu don’t know what a birthday suit is? It’s what you’re born in. It’s when you’re naked.”

All Sarah heard was that she was stupid. Feeling ridiculed in front of the entire class, she sank down into her seat filled with shame, embarrassment and complete nothingness as all eyes were on her.

 

[ding-ding-ding]

Sarah had always been a shy child. She was the nice, quiet girl who was rarely teased and was always the last to be chosen for team sports in P.E. She didn’t raise her hand to answer questions in class very often, but she didn’t have an overwhelming fear of being called upon.

Until the seventh grade.

Sarah remembers being absolutely terrified of being called on in class, or having to do anything that resembled a presentation in front of the class. For the next five years she was often sick on days she was supposed to make any kind of presentation. She thought she was just pretending to be sick, when in reality, it’s when the roots of anxiety started taking hold. It’s a miracle she finished high school at all.

As an adult taking college courses, if the syllabus included a presentation [or a group project] Sarah dropped the class. She never would earn a degree.

Out in the world, Sarah didn’t ask questions. She remembers shopping with her young daughter, talking aloud to herself, mumbling questions under her breath. Her daughter piped in, “Why don’t you just ask someone?” What a concept, huh? But Sarah can’t. She can’t ask questions.

Sarah always attributed this to being a sensitive, shy, quiet girl. People often pointed it out as a character flaw. She constantly berated herself for it; always thinking there was something wrong with her. She always remembered Abraham Lincoln’s mother but never considered it had anything to do with her issues. It wasn’t until she remembered the birthday suit and put the two pieces together that it all began to make sense to her as she felt it all over again.

That’s why she has an excruciating fear of being seen as stupid, dumb and incompetent. That’s why she has an exorbitant fear of being called on or asking questions.

Mrs. Smith made asking questions reprehensible. She deemed not knowing as shameful. She opened the tap wide, drenching Sarah with the fear and anxiety that would shame her into hiding. Mrs. Smith had no idea what impact her tone would have on the 11-year-old girl who’d been abused and lost her support system the year before.

This realization is part of the reason Sarah’s tag-line is mistaeks are mandatory. A reminder to herself that it’s okay to screw up, to not know something, to purposely do something badly. It’s okay to fail. Practice makes better. Fail more better. Yes, Fail. More. Better.

 

Socks for the Win

It’s why going out shopping and asking the clerk, “Where can I find socks?” is a total win for Sarah and deserving of a high-five. Could she have found them herself? Of course. It might have taken an hour in the large clothing store where everything had been rearranged, but today, today she grabbed some brave and asked for help.

Baby steps count.

Quirky Me

Updated from an original post in 2014.

________________________________

A few things about me [well maybe more, but who's counting?] ::

  1. There's nothing like a little murder and mayhem before bed. 

  2. I never go barefoot

  3. I sleep with socks on

  4. I drool in my sleep [and apparently I snore too, but I don't believe it]

  5. The first books I ever purchased were by Leo Buscaglia

  6. I cannot walk passed handbags

  7. I can't walk passed pens, notepads or coffee mugs either.

  8. I don't do drive-thrus

  9. I always return my shopping cart to a cart return

  10. I never park near the entrance of a business....I'd rather walk than fight for a parking space

  11. Bananas have to be a little green—or I won’t eat them

  12. I am an office, art, craft supply hoarder

  13. I have hundreds of rolls of washi tape

  14. I once made a list of 270+ fears

  15. I live with depression & anxiety

  16. I enlisted in the Army right out of high school [was medically discharged 6 weeks in]

  17. Yes, I'm neurotic and weird, but that's not why

  18. I weigh more now than I did when I was 9 months pregnant

  19. I only gained 7 lbs during my pregnancy; my daughter weighed 6 lbs. 5 oz.

  20. When I would sing in the car, my daughter would ask if I was okay [yeah, that bad]

  21. Sydney, Syda, Syd is not my birth name [I legally changed it when I was 24]

  22. My first marriage lasted less than two years; we eloped

  23. My second marriage will celebrate 21 years in May; we had a ceremony

  24. Both of them have the same first name

  25. I can't get in my car without something to drink

  26. I'm a bit of a control freak

  27. Friends used to say you could eat off my kitchen floor, literally

  28. I'm not as anal as I used to be

  29. I'll watch Criminal Minds or NCIS marathons no matter how many times I've seen them

  30. I don't *do* Valentine's Day

  31. Or, resolutions

  32. Autumn is my favorite season, tied with Spring

  33. I live in spandex; anything else feels like I'm dressing up

  34. All my spandex has paint on it

  35. Crew neck shirts make me feel like I'm choking

  36. I don't do turtlenecks either

  37. As a young child I pulled the legs off of daddy-long-leg spiders

  38. As a teen I'd kill them with a lighter

  39. As an adult I was bitten by a poisonous spider [they got their revenge]

  40. I don't like Peanut Butter Cookies

  41. I do like to bake PB Cookies because they're the only kind I made with my grandmother

  42. I don't do mani-pedis

  43. I can't stand to wear lipstick

  44. I'm addicted to chapstick

  45. In my younger days, I wouldn't answer the phone without makeup

  46. I've mastered the art of a quick shower

  47. I don't understand football

  48. I watch tennis

  49. I refuse to use self-checkout

  50. I can't smell (and have no memory of ever being able to)

  51. Yes, I have burned things and it freaks me out when I'm driving and someone asks, "What's that smell?"

  52. I stopped counting birthdays at 29

  53. I had to use a calculator to figure out how old the calendar says I am

  54. The age the calendar says I will be celebrating this year

Sarah Steps Out

Sarah steps out into the cold January night air, takes a sip of her coffee and lights a cigarette.  As she searches for the moonlight hidden by the cloudy sky, she wonders why she is not happy.  She wonders if she even knows what happiness is and recalls someone telling her once that he thought she was afraid to be happy.  So she stands there, looking up at the night sky, wishing she could see the stars, wondering if she really is afraid to be happy, sipping her coffee and smoking her cigarette.

Collin is a good man; the best Sarah has ever known.  He works hard to pay the bills so she doesn’t have to.  Aside from managing the household, her time is her own.  She can write, take on creative projects, go shopping or meet a friend for lunch without having to ask permission.  Sarah tries to be a good wife but she struggles with the realization that she resents doing so.  She wants for nothing material.  She can go out and buy anything she may desire.  Collin doesn’t as much as wince when she speaks of her latest purchases or sudden desire for some new gadget or toy.  However, she’s miserable in her current existence.  None of her shopping endeavors brings her happiness.  None of the pricey gifts that Collin bestows on her at Christmas, their wedding anniversary or on her birthday make her happy, nor do they hold much meaning for her.  No amount of spending can fill the emptiness and despair that she awakens with every day and falls to sleep with every night; no matter how hard she tries to make it so.  

Maybe she’s living in the past.

Sarah spends a lot of time playing “remember when?” in her head.  She remembers when Collin would leave her with little gifts, cards or hand drawn cartoons by her coffee cup on the kitchen counter.  She remembers when he would call her in the middle of the day just to tell her that he loved her.  She remembers when there was an extra Christmas card tucked underneath her bed pillow.  She remembers a time when she felt important to Collin; they’d hold hands as they watched television and sit outside under the night sky and talk about their love, their life and the future they wanted together.  They kept no secrets.  Sarah remembers and longs for that time when she felt so loved, so appreciated, so special and significant that she questioned nothing.

Sarah and Collin are living an emotional divorce.

Collin arises every day before dawn and goes to work, while Sarah awakens alone.  She spends her days wrapped up in her misery, wondering why she is there.  What purpose does she serve; other than as the cook, housekeeper and childcare worker?  All that material stuff does not make her happy.  It does not bring her love, warmth or appreciation.  It does not make her feel significant.  What she needs is time.  She needs time from Collin.  She needs time expressed in moments shared—alone—having dinner, sipping a mocha, or going to a movie.  She needs the time it takes to pick out a card, or to seek out a token gift.  

Maybe she expects too much.

A part of Sarah thinks that she should be grateful for what she has; a spouse, who works hard to provide for his family, helps with the dishes occasionally, accepts her bag fetish, puts his own laundry away, reads to their daughter, cooks breakfast on Sundays, makes the coffee pot, brings home the milk and allows her space when she needs it.  However, at the same time, Collin puts their future at risk with his unethical business practices, neglects her expressed need for his time, believes that all he has to do in their marriage is go to work and return home and that some gift dictated by the calendar will make up for it all.

Maybe she should give up.

Sarah has brought her concerns, fears and needs to Collin’s attention on more than one occasion.  They’ve discussed them on more than one occasion.  They’ve had agreements on more than one occasion.  Sarah has threatened divorce on more than one occasion.  Collin does not seem to realize that they’re living an emotional divorce, nor does he seem interested in doing anything about it.  Sarah is tired of feeling empty, neglected and alone.  She’s tired of the vicious cycle that has taken over their relationship.  She doesn’t know what else to do or how long she can live like this.

Maybe she has other options.

In realizing that her happiness is her own responsibility, Sarah has tried creating it, finding her own fulfillment through creative hobbies, writing, and volunteer work at her daughter’s school.  But, it’s all in vain.  She needs to know that she’s important to her husband, that she is loved, valued and appreciated.  But she doesn’t.

Maybe she should go shopping.

I Begin Again

Originally posted: June 2012

I begin
again…
today…


I cannot recall
where I began before
those moments when
I sought the truth
no matter how ugly
no matter how hard
I begin today
from where I start

I begin today
not from where I think I should be
but easing into the comfort
of new beliefs
embracing each breath
I deeply exhale
creative
challenged
perhaps, a little square

©srh.6.2012

Wander in Dreams

“….good or bad, the process of trying to write it out in some sort of pattern with a rhyme or two really helps me to move through the mud and the muck and get to more positive, self-loving thoughts. (originally shared: July, 2014)

what happened to the dreams you dreamt as a child

what happened to your joy and childlike smile

when did it all get buried and lost in the unknown

when did you stop believing in yourself and lose hope?

so you can't remember what it is like

to dream or imagine an incredible life

they told you that dreams do not come true

and your life had no value bestowed upon you

but dreams do come true

you just have to believe

and work and wander and gather like leaves

it isn't too late

you're never too old

to define the dreams hidden in your soul

take off that steel cloak rusted with doubt

you are worthy and valued and more than enough

wander about the possibility of dreams

spread your wings wide with curiosity

flap them freely in the air

though you may falter and they may sneer

let people stare

let them snicker and point

they'll be the ones trapped

in conformity's choke