Shhh… Its a Secret

A couple of weeks ago, one of my favorite blogs I follow, Little Miss Momma wrote this amazing, inspiring post about her secret. Her secret! She openly, honestly and vulnerably shared her secret with the world. I found it brave.

Then a few days later she asked other people to share their secrets with her. Secrets they would let her share with her blogging world. And women did. They came forward and they shared their secret with Little Miss Momma and what’s more, they let her share it too. Brave.

After debating back and forth, I’m taking a step forward. I’m going to share my secret with you. A secret that goes back a long way. Back to my dreaded middle school years and has followed into adulthood.

I was bullied in middle school. Bullied by a group of popular mean girls I had chosen not to be friends with because they wanted to smoke and drink and try drugs and I wasn’t interested. I went to school every day petrified I would run into one of them, peering around corners of hallways to make sure I didn’t see one of those popular mean girls and risk any kind of tormenting. The other girls in my grade wouldn’t befriend {in public} me because they didn’t want to be tormented either. Did I mention I transferred into that school 1/2 way through 7th grade and didn’t even have time to make friends before the bullying began? Just writing about this makes my heart race, my fingers sweat and all those feelings of insecurity rush back in. It got so bad and the school could not would not control it that my parents pulled me out of school the last week of the year because those girls told me to watch my back. Up until that point there had been no threat of physical harm. I missed out on my whole last week of 8th grade!

That year the scratching began. I would nervously scratch my scalp. So bad that it would bleed, scar, and then bleed again because I would scratch at the scars. The bullying ended at the end of my 9th grade year, but the nerves never left. The insecurities never left. For years I had to wear acrylic nails because I couldn’t scratch my scalp. So the scabs scars could heal. They didn’t at first, they turned into a need to always be perfect at everything. Get good grades, have my homework done in advance, have the perfect wedding, the smartest kids…. you name it! Now I have a massive Super Mom complex. I’m sure some of you are nodding your heads because you know exactly what I’m talking about.

And even now there are days I still scratch my scalp, but it’s not as often. I’m working on my insecurities, and my Super Mom complex. I serve a great God, one who has worked in my heart, chiseling away over the years making me new; making me whole again. He reminds me daily how much he loves me and cherishes me.

Do you have secrets too? Need a safe place to share? Well you’re found one here.

Love,
Alissa