I used to know this little girl. She was cute, blond curls and round cheeks. Always sunburned, always singing. She liked dolls and sand and popsicles and cable knit tights. She liked herself, too and liked to know she'd done well, but it made her a bit nervous when other people said too many nice things about her. She wasn't so afraid of making mistakes, she just didn't want to start high and then fall.

But it began getting harder. Grown-ups noticed she was good and kids noticed she was quiet. Teachers told her she was smart and her classmates told her they already had enough people for the game. It was very confusing for her because when she spoke loudly to be heard, they talked over her. When she whispered, they ignored her. When she shouted, their voices told her to shut up but when she was silent, they called her a snob. And slowly, she began to realize that the best she could ever hope for was not to be noticed at all.

She read a lot and ate lots of snacks and sang to herself under her breath. She smiled and lowered her eyes and got out of the way. She was so afraid that someone would pay attention because good or bad, she didn't think she was strong enough to withstand it. She couldn't make herself what they wanted but she tried so hard. And when she saw how badly she was failing, she changed directions. If she couldn't dress the way they did, she would dress so they wouldn't notice. Not like she really wanted to, just clothes the color of the walls and ground and things they could see through. If she couldn't say the things they wanted, she would say nothing, unless she had to. And then she would whisper and say simple words they would forget before they'd turned away. If she couldn't look the way they desired, she would make herself ugly and hide inside it. If no one noticed her, if no one wanted her, there was no way they could find out later that she was only pretending to have worth.

And it hurt sometimes. A lot in fact. It hurt but she found ways to fix it. She found things that hurt more- thoughts, actions. She stood in front of the mirror sometimes and told herself how ugly she was. Fat, stupid, clumsy, lazy. It was for her own good though because, what if someone else said these things to her? Would she really want to be caught out there in the world, with eyes looking at her, trying to decide how to react? People hurt each other and maybe, thought this little girl, we learn to hurt ourselves first. As preparation.

And sitting in her high school psychology class one day, she realized she didn't quite understand the term "self-image." How could her image have anything to do with herself? Wasn't it what other people saw? Wasn't her image simply what someone else thought of her? She had no real opinion of herself beyond what everyone else saw (which wasn't much) or at best, beyond her own reflection in the mirror. But that wasn't based on opinion, either. She was ugly and that was fact. Right? She wanted to ask the teacher but no one else seemed confused and she didn't want to look stupid.

And I think about her sometimes. Often, in fact. How she went from sun-kissed and smiling to confused and hunched. I think about her hiding behind her books and ice cream, her fingernails buried in her skin and all the things other people must have seen. I worry about her and all the things she did to make herself hurt, to make herself quietly ugly.

Today I had lunch with my father and one of his former students. I hadn't seen this boy (man) since I was nine and he was 14. He was a bit like an older brother to me at one time. It was fun, interesting to sit and talk to him again. We laughed and joked about things we remembered, long ago. He said, at one point, "So, the last time I saw you, your teacher was Mrs. Callahan, right? She was a good teacher. Fourth grade?" I agreed and something took me to that little girl I used to know. I saw her sitting at her desk, picking at sunburned skin, listening to sweet Mrs. Callahan recite vocabulary words. In my memory, she raised her hand to answer a question, only almost sure she was right but willing to take the chance.

I think that was the last year I didn't really mind being noticed.

-Shannon

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