The not so pretty truth

When I was growing up I was not the most talented of children… In fact I was awkward. I had dyslexia, big feet and a shy disposition. I would trip a lot, and don’t get me near any sport balls because I had a huge target on my forehead.

I would study for hours but I would still flunk the test. The teacher would call on me and I wouldn’t understand the question. I would say the wrong thing and my classmates would giggle.

I hated being called on. I made sure to never make eye contact with the teacher. I hated sports and would barely attend any games because I, a spectator, would get hurt or have the wind knocked out of me (true story it happened twice).

To top it off, people would notice these things. My teacher would say, “Don’t be stupid.” My classmate started calling me names. Then there was the year my neighbor would throw rocks at me every day going to and coming from the bus.

To add insult to injury I was also sexually abused. When I tried to talk about it… my words won’t come out right. No one seemed to understand, and no one seemed to care.

I was suicidal at a very young age. I didn’t realize it back then… But I was a kid often thinking about walking down the train tracks and being hit.

I promise this isn’t a pity party post… I am just painting a picture.

The last few weeks have been very hard, and if you read my stuff you know I’ve been in a dark place.

My serious words and pleas to communicate came out silly again. I said something wrong and instead of inviting a conversation… I hurt people and the door was shut. They said ‘good luck’ and I have had nothing but silence since. This is a post I will reserve for later. This morning’s post is actually a positive.

At 4 am this morning I remembered a book I read a long time ago by Max Lucado called, “You are Special.”

As I was reading this book this morning, I was struck by the idea of grey dots.

In the story grey dots are given to the wooden towns people that do silly things… While stars are given to those that are pretty and can do things well.

Punchinello was one of these.

He tried to jump high like the others, but he always fell. And when he fell, the others would gather round and give him dots.

Sometimes when he fell, his wood got scratched so people would give him more dots.

Then when he would try to explain why he fell, he would say something silly and the Wemmicks would give him more dots.

You Are Special by Max Lucado

Do you ever feel like this guy?

When I was a kid I felt like that all the time.

In the last two weeks I’ve been feeling it again. Sometimes I feel like anything I do or say is wrong.

When I try to do something at work and mess up… When I try to be kind but my words come out wrong… When I’m in the grocery store and drop a can of something while I’m grabbing another product… When I learn surprising news and get mad…

Grey dot… Grey dot… Grey dot…

The new problem is other wooden people are not giving me the dots. I’m giving them to myself.

How do you stop the cycle? What do you do when you recognize you are falling?

This morning I read a book. This morning I wrote a blog. This morning I’m admitting that I have a problem, so hopefully this recognition will help.

If you have a 9 minutes check this video out: You Are Special! It is about how God sees us… Plus the guy reading it is British… Those of us in the states think that’s pretty cool.