Member-only story
The Day I Learned to Respect Myself (And How You Can, Too)
Something happened to me when I was really young that followed me, like a shadow, into my young adulthood. Traces of it even lingered into my middle age. And honestly, until I finally changed my mind about it, I just couldn’t shake it.
Picture this: I’m a brand new student at a private school, and I didn’t know a soul. I was buzzing with energy, trying to figure out this new place, just trying to remember where I was supposed to be and when.
Third period. I’d been at school for maybe two hours. It’s Bible class, and my teacher was this thirty-something, all-authority-figure kind of guy, with a starched shirt and everything. “Turn in your Bibles to 1st Chronicles,” he barked. Now, I wasn’t exactly a Bible scholar at 11 years old. I pulled out my crumpled Gideon New Testament and muttered to myself, or at least, I thought I was muttering to myself, “I wonder if this Bible even has Chronicles in it.”
Immediately, Mr. Ford bellowed out, “YOU BE QUIET!”
What the…? I froze. I’d never dealt with that kind of intimidation before. I was completely clueless about what to do. So, I just retreated into myself, clammed up, and stayed that way in almost every public situation for the next eleven years.
