Unshaming Shame
When I was in 6th grade, I liked a boy in my class: his name was Sean. I thought he was amazing, handsome, and I had proverbial stars in my eyes as I gazed at him in class. He was one of the popular kids. I was not.
One day, he came up and talked to me. He was kind, and my affection was cemented. He asked if he could call me after school. I said yes. I felt complete, like everything was okay, just imagining Sean liked me the way I liked him. I felt seen for one of the first times in my life. I had never quite fit in with groups in school; I had friends, but was always on the fringe. I had trouble standing up for myself. I was the bookworm, with crazy red curls and freckles, the kind of nerdy girl who was quiet and kept to herself, more comfortable outside in the woods by my house than with groups. I just wanted to fit in.
I went home that afternoon and waited by the phone. My mom was busy in a different part of the house, so she wasn’t around. When the phone rang, and I answered to Sean on the other end of the line, my heart was in my throat. We talked and laughed, and he asked me to “go with him.” I, of course, said yes.
I was walking in the clouds. This would change everything.
The next day at school he ignored me. I didn’t understand why or what had happened. After class, he left with his best friend, raucous laughter in their wake when…
