Leaving Middle School Behind

I haven't been in Middle School since 1998, and I never want to return. Middle School was the time of cliques, petty arguments, rumors, awkwardness and overall hormonal insanity. I don't know anyone who can honestly say she loved those early teen years.

But recently, I was brought right back to those days...

I "broke-up" with one of my best friends yesterday. She was talking about me behind my back (the exact words are not essential, but they center around me dragging her down and needing to "find the right happy pill"). I confronted her and she couldn't understand why what she did was wrong. Her apology was, "Well, I'm sorry that you found out." Now, the problem is not that I found out, but that she did it to begin with. My explanations fell on deaf ears. She didn't want to hear what I was saying so she didn't. Through no doing of my own, I have been de-friended on Facebook, had all her pictures of the two of us deleted, and all of my photos of the two of us untagged. I have even been blocked from viewing her profile.

It must have taken her a lot of time to do all that. I'm sorry she wasted her time.

You see, I refuse to be disappointed. The friendship ended on my terms. I lost a "friend," but she couldn't really have been much of a friend if she was willing to do what she did. I must find and focus on the silver lining.

I learned my lesson in Middle School. I was the kid that got walked on (and over) on a daily basis. I was the girl who was teased for being the "teacher's pet." I was the girl who had other girls counting the number of times she was called on in class (and keeping the tally in the back of their notebooks). And I was the girl who got shot down every time she opened her mouth in class meetings. But I was also the kid that helped those same bullies with their math/science/English/history/you-name-it homework every night on the phone. I didn't know how to say no. I didn't know that I had the right to say no. I just took whatever crap they threw at me and tried to duck fast enough.

But I'm not that kid anymore. I am not helpless. I do not think that I deserve to be treated like that. I know that I have worth--as a friend, as a daughter, as a mentor, as a student, as an activist, as an author. And I will stand up for myself now. I did stand up for myself. This time.

As I think about what I've lost, I also think about what I've gained. For once, I have taken care of that inner, helpless Middle School child. I couldn't do it then, but I can do it now. I can refuse to stepped on or walked over.

Sometimes I still have dreams about those girls from Middle School. I think it haunts me that I did nothing to stand up for myself for all those years. In my dreams, I can give voice to all the things for which I never had the words. I was meek and timid in Middle School. Back then, I thought that what I would lose would be greater than what I would gain.

The truth is: you can't put a price on self-respect.