Junior High Flashback

Let me begin by saying that I was not a popular kid in junior high. Maybe it had something to do with me transferring from a private school to public school as I entered junior high, but I never felt that I belonged. At first, I tried to fit in by using swear words that all the other kids were using, which looking back was pretty ridiculous since I had no idea what any of them meant. I usually wore hand-me-down clothes, and I was a little chubby. To add insult to injury, I was a good student, and that certainly was not appreciated by the other kids. The result was that I was called all sorts of derogatory names.

I know that lots of kids are tormented in junior high. It seems to be a common thread that many of us share. I was probably a little more sensitive to the jaunts and adjustment that my transition required. I spent the first week and a half crying in the commons before school, which of course, did not raise my standing any with of the other kids. Then I was just the weird girl who cried all the time. Well, last night I had a total junior high flashback.

Let me clarify before I relate my experience that my flashback had nothing to do with the people involved and everything to do with my own insecurities. I went to a scrapbooking evening with some ladies from our local congregation. I will say that the evening turned out to be a very pleasant surprise; however, it did not start out that way for me. Well, that is not accurate either. The trip was great; it was when we arrived at our destination to scrapbook that things went downhill for me.

I love letting people look at my scrapbooks (as long as the person looking is related to me - they have to love and approve even if my product isn't that spectacular). I am very private about my scrapbooking because I do not have and cannot afford all the nifty gadgets and paper kits, etc. that generally goes along with the hobby. My scrapbooking primarily consists of paper, pens and pictures. I'm really very basic - more by necessity than by desire. I try to be as creative as my budget will allow, but honestly, by the time I purchase paper, tape/glue, and pens, there are just very few funds left for other things.

That being said, let me tell you my story. To begin with, I was already feeling self-conscious because I was only able to attend the scrapping party as a result of a friend paying my way. I had never scrapped at a store before, but I packed my little pages and determined to step out of my comfort zone. I realized as I was packing up to leave that my paper trimmer was broken, but I figured I could borrow one from one of the other ladies (I didn't realize I could borrow one from the store - doh!).

We arrived and several of the ladies were already there and were busily working on their pages. I quickly realized that sharing a paper trimmer with someone was not really feasible (and again, I had no idea I could borrow one from the store). I decided that I would try just using scissors, and about 3 inches into my cut I realized that was a very bad plan.

At this point I could feel myself starting to blush, which happens rather easily as most who know me can attest. There were 7 of us, and I was feeling that I was definitely the odd man out. A very good friend of mine was sitting at the other end of the table, but she had brought a friend with her. They were discussing their work together. Two of the other ladies are next door neighbors, and they were busy working together as well. The remaining two (not counting myself) were eating dinner before they started their projects. That left me.

In order to avoid turning about 20 shades of red in front of them I extricated myself from the table and began to walk around the store (for lack of better occupation). I tried to call my husband to commiserate about the fact that I did not have an escape route and was stuck there til midnight, but he didn't answer his phone. I resorted to calling my mom - how sad, right? Here I am, nearly 33 years old, calling my mommy because I didn't think any of the other kids wanted to play with me. That is truly pathetic.

I probably spent 30 minutes or more just walking around the store. I looked at tons of cute scrapping stuff (none of which I could afford). I even found some really cute Cinderella stickers that Avari would have loved, but I could not justify $5 for stickers that would last all of 30 seconds. I finally found a fairly inexpensive little paper trimmer to replace my old one. I couldn't afford that either, but I figured if I was going to make it through the evening without crying, it was necessary (to mention it once more, I had no clue I could borrow one).

Even the purchase of the cutter was somewhat humiliating. The salesperson offered to just leave the ticket open since we were scrapping there in the store in case I wanted to buy anything else. I quickly thanked her but declined, knowing that I had nothing more to spend. I watched for the rest of the evening as everyone else would pop over to the cute papers, stamps, etc. to accessorize their various pages - all of which put my sad efforts to shame.

So, I bowed my head and went to work. Right after I opened my paper cutter I found out you could borrow one (thank you for the chorus of repetition). I started doing my poor girl scrapping - working on my titles and trimming my pictures. Man, it was like junior high all over again. I felt like I was sitting there in my hand-me-down clothes that never quite fit right with my really bad haircut - an attempt at the wings. Come on, you people that remember the late 80's know what I'm talking about. I felt ashamed even as I sat there - ashamed that I felt so strongly about all of this.

Then God reminded me of something - who I am does not rest in how much money I have. I am a child of the King. My identity is all wrapped up in who my Father is. I have nothing to prove. Let me just say again that none of my inadequate feelings resulted from anything any of these ladies did. It was my perception of what they would think of me that caused my misery.

Ultimately, the conversation opened up, and everyone interacted together. I picked up some new ideas that I can do even without fancy tools, and I was able to share some techniques that they had never considered. It seems that necessity really can be the mother of invention.

I suppose you can take from my experience whatever you wish. What I gained was a new respect for my friends as I opened up to share something very personal to me. I realized that it is hard to step out of my comfort zone but so rewarding. It reminded me that Papa is with me no matter how alone I feel even in the midst of a crowd. And, I learned that I should always remember in whom my identity lies!