Boys don’t make passes at girls who wear glasses

To this day I have a tinge of self consciousness when I wear my glasses – after all these decades of “shame work” I’ve done on myself. And that’s even after proving over and over again that, indeed, boys do make passes at girls who wear glasses! (But, of course, in this day and age, “boys making passes” is likely an outdated concept.)

As a little girl, I had lousy distance eyesight. And my mother, never asking me what I wanted, picked out the cheapest, which in my opinion, were also the ugliest pair of glasses – cat eye frames with leopard print.

I remember one particular ugly episode in that 3rd grade class during one of these chalkboard pop quizzes, where upon returning from a bathroom break, and reaching into my desk for my glasses and … they were gone!  I panicked as that quiz needed to be taken. I flailed around for an insufferable couple of minutes looking for them – until Alana Tweet, smirking, leaned over from her desk with placed them in front of me. Like watching a little helpless insect she had just torn the wings off of, she delighted in watching me writhe. 

Then there was junior high, where the self-consciousness ratcheted up with my mother still forcing me to wear eye glasses she had picked out. I nearly failed a history class and an English grammar class because the teachers put their tests on the chalkboard and having an assigned seat further back, I could barely read a thing without putting on my glasses. 

Can you imagine? Smart little me (and great at grammar!) preferred to pretend being dumb and clueless, rather than risking the taunting or judgement of other students. There was so much rejection going on at home that I couldn’t bear it elsewhere.

Even as I write this I’m triggered and feel a deep sadness coursing through my body. I know from all the emotional release work I’ve done, that this is mourning for a happy childhood I never had.  But this is valuable processing – because bringing up this old memory and then, the feeling that accompanies it, has no relevance for my life today. So it’s time to let it go. 

 

But that’s how trauma works. Backlogged memories that trigger these painful emotions need to be processed and released. It’s what I do for myself and it’s what I teach others to do for themselves. So when I complete this blog piece, I will sit down and do an emotional release practice to move this icky feeling through and be able to wave it goodbye. That simple. Really. I usually cry a lot and feel soooo much better when I’m done in about 15-minutes. 

And if this sounds like something you need to do for some yucky backlogged memories you have, then I want to teach you how to do it. I invite you to register for this free Shift Network event where I’m interviewed about this work and also guide an experiential practice to release what ever is knocking loudest on your head. It’s worth your time. I promise.

Having uncovered this latest layer of shame about my looks, I’m giving myself the chance to finally let it go –releasing the weight of yet another old wound and making room for a lighter, freer version of me.

With Love,
Becca