It will not define me.

I'm a singer, actress and artist with a passion for theater. I majored in Musical Theater for 3 semesters, all while minoring in Studio Art, being an Honors student, maintaining a 4.0 GPA, and earning a reputation as the most hardworking and respectful student in my class. I was sure I had found my calling in life. 

Imagine my shock when, after confidently performing at Evaluation, I was discreetly taken to my professor's office and told that I didn't pass, and I wouldn't be allowed to continue my major. 

Because of my anxiety issues. 

Because of the bites on my arms from panic attacks. 

Because they thought I was too damaged-goods to survive in the industry. 

Well guess what? 

I just performed in Hamlet, and an expert authority on Shakespeare in the audience said it was, "The best college production of [ANYTHING they] had ever seen," and called it "professional." 

Oh, and don't get get me started on the number of famous actors who suffer every day from anxiety and mental disorder and still kick ass. 

So, yes, as long as I live I will never forget the moment my professor I looked up to told me I couldn't do it. Yes, it will haunt me for years to come.

But with God as my witness, it will not define me.

Witch Nose

"Your nose makes you look like a witch, but I'd still date you."

This comment launched the start of what is still to this day my biggest insecurity.

"You will never be able to make good decisions on your own."

When I was younger, my dad used to always ask me, "Why do you always make bad choices?" As I got older, it turned into, "You will never be able to make good decisions on your own." 

In early adulthood, he stopped saying anything when I made mistakes. He would just give me a look and walk away. 

Now as an adult with two children of my own whose father walked away, my dad tells me quite often how proud he is of me. He frequently reminds me that I'm doing a wonderful job with the boys, and he has a fantastic relationship with them both. 

But as close as my dad and I are now, I can still hear him tell me how I'll never do anything good, or that I can't make decisions for myself. 

Every decision I make, big or small, feels like life or death to me. I'm constantly calling and asking my dad what I should do, and he'll talk with me until I decide. He's a phenomenal father and grandfather, but I wish had been more understanding and less judgmental when I was growing up. 
 

"Was he at least kind about it?"

When I told a friend that I had been raped, she asked me, "Was he at least kind about it?" 

I was dumbfounded, so I didn't say anything except no. 

This still bothers me, and I am shocked by the way our culture portrays and views this horrendous criminal act.
 

"Your shoes are very pink."

Growing up, my family didn't have much money. My parents always tried the best they could to provide for me.

In 8th grade, my mom treated me to a new pair of pink lace-up work-style boots from Kmart. I was so excited about them and confident that I could rock them, until I wore them to school.

After a day of awkward stares, I was walking to the bus stop when one of the popular kids told me, "Your shoes are very pink." 

I excitedly replied, "Thank you!" and I was feeling suddenly confident again. 

He chimed backed in as I was walking away, "I never said I liked them." And I was immediately shot down.

I went home and cried that night, and never wore the shoes again. The shoes my mother worked so hard to buy. 

It's funny how words can hurt a child so deeply.
 

"She sounds dumb anyway."

I moved to the USA from Costa Rica when I was 10 years old. English was not my first language, but I was doing pretty well. 

In 8th grade when I was 14, my school went on a trip to saint Augustine, FL. Everyone decided to get henna tattoos, but I didn't have enough money for one.

When one of the chaperones asked why I wasn't getting one, I said, "I just don't want a TA TU." (I mispronounced it because of my accent.) She laughed and told me to just call it a tat. I tried to say it that way, and then I told her that I thought that made me sound dumb. 

As I walked away she turned to her son and said, "She sounds dumb anyway." They started laughing. 

I turned around and told them that they weren't being nice, but they didn't care. They just kept laughing at the 14 year old girl who had an accent.
 

"You're the winning team."

I could never commit to school. I've always been very anxious and weird, and of course that's blood in the water for the horrific nightmare sharks that are children. 

The one thing I actually liked doing was writing, because I could express myself without feeling overwhelmingly self-conscious. 

A teacher that I genuinely liked and respected, who I think came to know me exclusively through the essays I turned in, once told me, "You're the winning team. People root for you." 

I don't necessarily think there's anyone screaming my name from the bleachers, but for one meaningful second, I felt like maybe things would be okay.
 

"What kind of a retarded freak are you?"

My birthday is in September, so I was just 11 years old when I started 7th grade. My Spanish teacher was going over the lesson, and I kept mispronouncing several words. She finally exploded at me in front of the class and said, "What kind of a retarded freak are you?" 

I turned bright red while more than 60 eyes zeroed in on my agony. 

Later that day, I went home and just cried. Cried and cried. My parents were the type that felt the teacher could do no wrong. It was the first time in my life someone other than family had made me feel so worthless and useless. 

Somehow, I made it through 7th grade and the Spanish language well enough to become fluent in it. 

Years later, I became a New York City teacher. I spent about 30% of my time as a teacher speaking Spanish with students, most of whom were from Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic. 

In my last year teaching before I retired, a student asked me why I became a teacher. It was at that very moment I actually realized why. 

I never wanted another child to be publicly humiliated by a teacher like I was by my 7th grade Spanish teacher.
 

"I didn't want to die alone."

When my ex got out of a long relationship and started dating me, he found himself in a hard place. At the time, he truly believed he was dying of an STD. He told me he wanted to marry me, have a family, the whole nine. 

When I actually wound up unintentionally pregnant, he broke up with me. 

Many months later I asked him why he would say he wanted to marry me, have a family and a home if he didn't actually mean it. 

He responded with, "I thought I was dying, and I didn't want to die alone." 

After all this time, I've healed. I have a beautiful child that I adore with everything in me, and I am thankful every day for my small babe. 

However, that one line has stuck with me. It is the only thing I haven't let go of because it is such a cruel and powerful sentence.
 

"You're so ugly."

When I was in high school, there was a girl who would whisper in my ear every time I walked by her. 

Every day, multiple times a day, she'd come up to me and whisper, "You're so ugly."