"Perfect."

When I was thirteen, I was raped, and both of my breasts were severely mutilated. I had to have a partial mastectomy because of it. 

Eleven years later, my husband saw me in the nude for the first time on our wedding night. I had never told him of the trauma I endured for fear that he might not want me anymore. 

His reaction was the opposite of what I expected. 

He kissed every scar with tenderness I didn't even know existed, and he said to me, "These scars only give your stretch marks something to gossip about. Your breasts are perfect." 

That was the moment I truly fell in love with him. 

"Colorful, like you!"

I love baking, and I usually try to bring whatever I bake to work or so I don't end up eating all of it. People are always very appreciative, and I always try to be as creative as possible and outdo my last confection.

It was Easter, and I didn't have time to bake like I usually do, but someone else had brought in some really cute chocolate pretzel bites with pastel M&Ms. I asked my coworker if she knew who brought them, and she said, "Oh, I thought you did because they are bright and colorful, like you!"

I think that low-key changed my life. It certainly finally gave me the confidence to color my hair purple, which I have always wanted to do, but until then had made due with a bright auburn.

This was last year, and I still think about it with pride when I get dressed or look in the mirror or pick out something colorful to wear or buy.

"Good, bad, or indifferent, however you feel about them is alright."

Neither of my parents were in my life. I was raised by my maternal grandmother.

One day, when I was about 7 or 8, I remember coming to her asking why my dad and mom didn't want me. As I started to cry, my grandmother held me and said, "Honey! Honey. Listen to me. Your father and mother are the ones missing out. And they will regret it because you are an intelligent, beautiful, sweet girl who will grow into an amazing young woman. And when they do start wanting to come around and try to make amends? Good, bad, or indifferent, however you feel about them is alright. Don't let me, your aunt, your uncle, cousins, your godparents, your mother, your father, or whoever tell you how to feel."

Years later, what she said did come true. My father has apologized numerous times for not being there and so has my mother. But I'm in my prime, I'm in my 20s. And sometimes they get upset when I don't call them or talk to them as much like I do my grandmother, aunt, cousins, etc. 

But I just ignore both of them because I remember what my grandmother said all those years ago. 

"Good, bad, or indifferent, however you feel about them is alright."

"Despite your circumstances..."

I went into foster care when I was 16. I made the choice to do it, not wanting to go back to my abusive father after being taken from my drug addict mother. 

I had switched schools twice that year and got diagnosed with depression and bipolar. I felt depressed most days because of my parents, being at a new school, etc. 

But I had one amazing teacher who was always commending me on my schoolwork. I remember one thing in particular he said to me: "Despite the classes you're taking, and despite your circumstances, you're still managing to kick ASS in my class." 

That comment still makes me smile to this day. 

He ended up writing me a letter of recommendation for college and calling me over the summer to see how I was doing. This was back in 2010 and a thank you letter to him is long overdue. 

There were lots of horrible things that my parents said during my time in foster care which stuck with me too, but I wanted to share something that actually made me feel good about myself.

"I just want you to remember"

For as long as I can remember, my dad and I have been emotionally distant from one another. 

When my first serious boyfriend and I broke up, I couldn't eat or sleep. I was pretty much in the deepest depression I have been in in a while. 

My mom called my dad and told him that she was worried about me because I wasn't eating. 
One day, I picked up the phone and heard this:

"I know you're upset and probably don't want to talk, but I just want you to remember that Daddy loves you." 

I never told my dad that just those few words meant more to me than he will ever know.

"Thank you for all you do!"

A few years ago, I landed my dream job, but it wasn't what I thought it would be. My supervisor always demoralized me. Nothing I ever did was efficient enough or even warranted a passing "thank you." I was constantly criticized and told that I needed to be better. I felt so dejected by the end of the year. I was stressed, anxious, and couldn't sleep at night because my dream job was turning into a nightmare. 

At the end of the year, I quit and got hired for a different position under a new supervisor. A very kindly, warm person that actually made me feel like a human being. 

This new supervisor randomly sent me a note that said: "Thank you for all you do!" I realized that I HAD found my dream job, and that I had always been pretty good at it. For me, it wasn't the wrong job; it was just the wrong supervisor. 

 

"I'll see you in August."

I had a lot of issues with depression and suicidal thoughts in high school. Junior year, I took a college history class with a teacher who was known to be laid back. 

When the end of the year neared, I became wary of the summer because I would no longer see this wonderful teacher. He had become the only thing I looked forward to, and I think he knew that. 

When I went to say goodbye, I asked him, "What was your favorite part of this year?"

He smiled and said, "You were my favorite." 

With a few tears cascading down my face, I said, "I'll miss you, you know?" 

And he nodded, smiling, and said, "And I'll see you in August." 

It was because of him telling me I had to be back there in August that I stopped feeling suicidal. I stopped feeling as sad. Following a pretty awful breakup that summer, and a summer of pains, coming back to school and seeing my teacher's bright face and calming demeanor made me feel whole again.

I realized that he wasn't just my teacher. He surpassed that and became my friend. And seeing his face light up with such simple joys, well, it made me feel at home. And there is no place I'd rather be.

"It's okay; I'm fat too!"

When I was 9, I was a little more developed than everyone else. One day in class, I walked past a table of kids and I heard one boy say, "Oh, she's so fat!" 

I confronted them, and soon the teacher came by to see what was going on. At first the kids denied having said anything, but eventually the boy confessed, saying, "It's okay; I'm fat too!" 

As if that made it okay. 

A year later, I changed schools and met my two best friends. I'm fifteen now, and we're still best friends. They don't care how I look, and because of their love and support, neither do I. 

"Sometimes I think he did too good a job."

At some point early in our marriage, I happened to mention to my ex-husband that my dad had made a point to raise independent daughters, and something in regards to the benefits of this. My husband replied, "Yeah, I know. But sometimes I think he did too good a job." 

At the time I brushed this comment off, but looking back now (and after a great deal of therapy), I can see this as a portent of things to come. 

Throughout our marriage, my independence increasingly became an issue for him. It meant that he and his wants couldn't always come first in our relationship, or that sometimes he might have to take someone else into consideration when making decisions about something.  When we got into arguments, my ability to stand up for myself became a tool he used against me. When I would bring up something he'd said in the past, he would either deny having said it, or accuse me of twisting his words. Throughout all of this, he cast himself as the innocent bystander, or even the victim, making me feel guiltier and guiltier. 

I eventually started to doubt myself, all the time, about everything. Rather than reaching a mutually satisfying compromise over an issue, I found myself just giving in to his demands, or letting him talk me around to his point of view. I began to view my independence as a negative trait and a selfish behavior. I remember telling my therapist I felt like I was going crazy because I was never sure about anything anymore and didn't feel like myself. 

Thank goodness my independence never fully left me, because I never stopped fighting, and finally asked for a divorce after about 3 years. I have a wonderful new partner in life who loves me as I am, and sincerely appreciates my independence and self sufficiency. He never questions my desire or need to do something on my own, but gently lets me know he's there if I need him. I revel in the life I have built for myself. 

But there are times, in my most anxiety ridden moments, when I hear my ex-husband's voice in the back of my head and start to doubt myself again, and just for a second I wonder if my independence won't also be my downfall. Then I remember how f*cking amazing I am, and that he is just a selfish narcissist who doesn't believe that white, male privilege exists.
 

Smart

When I was in school, teachers didn't know about dyslexia, ADHD, or PTSD. They didn't understand my stutter, so I stopped talking, and just did the best I could to keep up and not get noticed by my teachers anymore. 

They did notice. All through my youth I was told I was "stupid," "deliberately acting dumb," and "failing tests on purpose." I was told I would never graduate. I got lumped in with the bad crowd, and wore my "dumbness" with pride. Until I met my 8th grade math teacher. 

Math was always my worst subject. Dyslexia turns timed multiplication tests into an instant panic attack. My former math teachers told me that they let me pass their classes just so they wouldn't have to deal with me again.
 
But this one teacher. He kept me after class and helped me with homework. He walked me through tests so I would slow down enough to finish them. And then one day, out of the blue, he told me I was smart, and that my brain just worked too fast for anyone else to keep up.

In all of my 15 years, nobody had ever called me smart. 

With that one little comment, I started passing classes. I ended up graduating not only high school, but college, too. My stutter slowed, and now, years later, I still truly believe that I'm smart.  

That one math teacher that took time out of his overworked days to tell the dumb kid she was smart. That's what stuck with me.