This guy I knew through a group of friends said, “You are pretty…enough." 

Any time I’ve ever repeated that to someone they’ve rolled their eyes and said what a jerk he is. We usually just laugh it off. 

But every once in a while when I don’t feel that confident or attractive…I will think of that and it just echoes through my head. It bothers me that without prompt, he evaluated my looks and felt the need to tell me. It bothers me that every once in a while I believe it.

One day when I was about five my little sister had to be rushed to the hospital in New York. I was so scared and had no idea what was going on. I loved her so much and felt so protective but as a five year old there was nothing I could do.

A month or so ago, my son, who is now about the same age as my sister when she had to go to the hospital, was having trouble breathing. My wife and I packed him in the car and drove as fast as we could to the ER. It was the first time I felt protective and helpless in the same way since I was five. He spent 24 hours at the hospital with bronchiolitis, and made a full recovery just like my sister!

At my elementary school, we had a gifted program. Around 2nd or 3rd grade, a few of my teachers nominated me to be in the program, but in order to officially get in I needed to take an oral exam.

I remember trembling and wanting to throw up, I was so nervous for that exam. One of the questions was, “How many are in a baker’s dozen?” I remember my brain freezing mid-thought because I was so nervous. I was embarrassed, because I knew the answers, but they just didn’t come to me when I felt uncomfortable/nervous.

A few days later, I was asked to be tested again. This time was no different from the other. Still wanting to throw up, still so ashamed. I didn’t get in again.

I remember talking to someone about this later in middle school. How I was tested twice.

He commented, “Wow you were so stupid the first time, they needed to make sure you weren’t really that dumb.”

Needless to say, I have always felt that I wasn’t smart enough. He just reiterated the very thing that was reverberating in my brain.

And whenever I speak out loud for class or a speech,  I feel the nerves boiling over, affecting my ability to trace my train of thought. And I still struggle with these feelings of shame and embarrassment.

There’s a self realization that if I calmed down I could remember more easily and then there’s a mental self abuse when I can’t calm down.

I wish I could get rid of the negative reinforcement in my head.

“You would be cooler if you talked more.”

I heard this is a shy pre-teen with social anxiety. I still replay it in my head every time I am in a social situation with more than two people. Sometimes I remember this moment and I tell myself I am boring, awkward, and lack personality, even though I know none of those things are true. It has been eleven years since I heard those words.

This was not a comment that anyone made about me, but rather one I made about someone that still sticks with me today.

When I was in 5th grade, I was on a swim team with a number of my classmates. One of them was a girl I disliked, mainly because she was mean to me and teased me a lot. I recall watching a swimmer I thought was her, and saying something to the effect of “I can’t believe Leslie [not her name] can even fit in her bathing suit.” I don’t recall exactly what I said, but it was definitely fat-shaming and nasty. She was standing right behind me, clearly heard me, and I tried, very poorly, to act like I was talking about someone else, and then she walked away.

It didn’t seem to affect her in the long run, we were on the same singing groups, and while we were never friends, we were at least cordial. But I always felt guilty and awful for having said that about her, no matter how mean she was to me. I really hope she forgot all about it, but I wouldn’t blame her if she resented me for that comment. Sigh.

One day in high school I was standing around with a bunch of other freshman girls. A boy came over and tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Hey my friend wants to talk to you,” and pointed at a group of boys sitting farther off, pretending not to be paying attention. Before I could respond, another girl in our group said, “If he wants to talk to me, he can come over here.” The boy looked at me once more and then walked off, confused. 

Garnering up what little confidence I had in myself at that age, I said, “I’m pretty sure he was talking to me, actually.” All my friend did was laugh. And once she started laughing, all the other girls started laughing too, like I’d said the funniest thing in the world. 

So it wasn’t a particular comment that’s stuck with me all these years, just the sound of their laughter. 

I realized a long time ago that the whole situation spoke to their own lack of self-esteem instead of mine. 

I was always really into acting and singing as a kid. Performing was my favorite thing in the whole entire world, and I constantly dreamed of one day being on Broadway.

A new girl moved to my town in elementary school. I thought she was really cool because she wore Limited Too and spoke with authority.

One day she made an offhanded comment about how theater is lame, and it’s not ok to do theater. As an impressionable ten year old desperate to be this girl’s best friend, I agreed with her.

By the end of high school I finally realized that I had allowed this notion to be completely ingrained into my entire existence. Theater was clearly really bad, and it was not something that was okay for me to like. I actually believed this. It wasn’t until I was able to acknowledge how much her fleeting comment affected me that I could start to gradually pursue performing again. 

When I was in 5th grade, our teacher (who to this day is one of my favorite I’ve had) filled out end of the year individual memory pages for each of us. I remember on mine, he wrote “you have the rare ability to balance seriousness with sillyness, which is unique and amazing quality. Never lose this." 

15 years later, I still think back to that compliment and advice, and I still strive to maintain that balance :)

One morning in high school, I was running late and I didn’t have time to straighten my hair like I did every other morning. When I got to homeroom, a girl I didn’t really know asked if I let my hair dry naturally that day, and I said yes. She said, simply, “It looks really nice like that." 

For some reason, that comment meant everything to me, and after that day I started wearing my hair curly and crushing on that random girl in homeroom.

In middle school, I received a dreaded 3 way phone call from my friends, and they lectured me about all of the things I needed to change about myself to be less annoying. I hung up, determined to change the way I talked, dressed, and interacted with others. 

I realized a couple of years later that I didn’t need to change myself, I needed new friends. While I have since grown up and embraced my flaws, I still think to this day about the things that made me “annoying” and sometimes wonder if I had changed them, if I would have had a different life…