I was the shiny new penny after a year away from my hometown. I’d spent the year in Chicago while my dad was on sabbatical and then spent the summer in France with friends of the family. I’d left just shy of 13—pulled out early from 7th grade—and returned at 14 and a high schooler. I must have changed a lot because I’d never garnered any attention from boys prior to leaving. And, to be honest, I hadn’t been particularly interested. But suddenly, I was being treated like the “new girl” by boys I’d known since the days of learning that painting on the walls was utterly unacceptable.
No sooner had school started then Homecoming loomed. I’d been focused on school, re-establishing friendships, forging new ones, and discovering all that I’d missed over the last 14 months. Much of our conversations were not focused on school work, homework, or plans beyond the following week. To be honest, alot of it was about boys. Hey, 14, remember?
Boys. Boys treating girls—me—like anything other than a non-entity or, at best, an “also ran” was new, nerve-wracking, and exciting, but also kind of scary.
So when Rob asked me to the Homecoming Dance, I was a bit stunned. I’d never been asked for date before and I really hadn’t expected to be asked. I’d anticipated going with my girl friends, just like we’d done through junior high.
Rob was shy, kind, and thoughtful, with a warm smile and clear, blue eyes that seemed to see more than the physical. So, I’d said yes, when he asked me to Homecoming. Two, shy, 14yo introverts on a date is not without social awkwardness, and I struggled with small talk. Yet, I still had a wonderful time. But he never asked me out again. I never knew why and after a while, I moved on.
Still the shiny, new penny, I had more unwanted attention than welcome ones. Navigating attention from boys I didn’t want to date and, worse, harassment, had me on a freak and nervous about each school day. I stuck close to friends I trusted, yet longed for sincere interest. The small town dating pool wasn’t exactly deep with prospects.
A year later, I was dealing with the onset of depression. I wasn’t ideating suicide, but I wished I’d never been born. And I wasn’t getting help. Unwanted attention—harassment—had me in a tailspin. I’d always been the wallflower and didn’t think much of my looks. The sudden, unwanted attention from boys my age and older had triggered the fight, flight, or freeze response. I was clueless about how to navigate boys, the harassment, dating, behavior, and hormones. I spiraled into darkness. I cried during class. I made myself sick, taking off my boots in the winter and walking a mile home just to be sick enough to miss school for a week. And, when not in school, I slept, escaping into a world of dreams and nothingness where I didn’t have to feel the disappointment of being me or listen to the negative self talk telling me that I was nothing and reviewing every cringeworthy moment. The litany of what I should have said or should have done played on a loop as I slid even further into self loathing.
That fall, I had confirmation classes. Small town, small church, small number of candidates to teach. We numbered four all together, and Rob was one. There are very few memories that burned through the darkness to imprint themselves in my mind and in my heart, but one moment in confirmation class still burns bright.
We were discussing our homework from the workbook about what qualities we admired in each other and in ourselves. It was easy for me to find positive traits of others, but, being so deep in the darkness and self hatred, I had nothing positive to say about myself. It must have taken some courage when Rob said quietly, “You have a beautiful smile.”
I was stunned, surprised, and, despite all the negative, suspicious and abusive chatter constantly running through my head, I believed him. And I believed his sincerity. That one, courageous compliment began to dispel the darkness. Rob found something positive about me when I was blind to and unaccepting of my own strengths. In the darkness of my own mind, his words were like a switch, turning on a nightlight—not enough to illuminate every corner, but enough to begin finding my way out.
I’ve dealt with depression occasionally since and every time I’ve turned to those words and that feeling that someone out there in the world has something positive to say about me. And if there’s one person, mightn’t there be others?
We never know how our words imprint themselves on others or how one’s truth—quiet and simple—can help.
I saw Rob again recently. I hadn’t seen him since high school. He’s still a bit shy, and still thoughtful and kind. His smile is just as warm and his eyes are just as blue, clear, and seeing. And, I am ever grateful for his five words that led me out of the dark: You have a beautiful smile.
©2024 Caitlyn Frost. All rights reserved.
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