"...until I fit in."

I've always admired my mom. She married my dad, moved to the US from Mexico, and got her citizenship via naturalization. She worked hard to learn English, and worked even harder to provide for four us after a bitter divorce.

At one point she was working three jobs, and she still always showed us the positive even though we were really poor at the time. She often faced a lot of racism in our small town because of her (and our) heritage. 

One day, I asked her how she does it. A Hispanic woman in a small, Midwestern community making ends meet with a smile on her face, not letting the haters bring her down. She looked at me, smiled and said, "If I'm in a new place, I squish and squeeze until I fit in." 

That's always stuck with me. She made a place for herself and worked hard for it. I'm lucky if I'll ever grow to be half the woman she is.

"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.

"I'd go back in time..."

The last time I saw my mom was two years ago on Christmas Eve, when she told me, "If I knew how fucked up you were going to turn out, I'd go back in time and not have you." 

"He wouldn't have watched us undress..."

"He wouldn't have watched us undress if you'd just changed under your clothes like I did!" 

- My friend, 10 years old, speaking to me, also 10.
 

"Are you sure you're not anorexic?"

For as long as I can remember, I've always eaten like a horse, yet I never gain weight. 

One day in high school, someone asked me, "Are you sure you're not anorexic?"

This comment took me by surprise, and ever since then I've always thought of myself as "anorexically skinny," even though I know that I am not anorexic and never have been. 

"If your knees were just a little bit smaller, you'd be perfect."

I was a sprinter on the track and field team all throughout high school. I was in the best shape of my life, but sometimes I felt self conscious about my legs because they were thicker than the other girls' legs (this was a Catholic school, so having sexy little legs with your rolled up skirt was all the rage). 

Usually when I had these thoughts about my legs, I would quickly brush them aside, assuring myself that I was being ridiculous and that my legs looked good.

But one day in sophomore religion class, I sat down next to the "cool/hot" guy, and he said to me, "You're beautiful, but if your knees were just a little bit smaller, you'd be perfect." 

I immediately told him off after he said that, but six years have gone by and his voice is still in the back of my head every time I go to try on skirts or dresses.

"At least one of them will turn out normal."

After years of abuse, a group home, and an abusive foster mother, my life finally settled down. I went to therapy, got diagnosed with depression and PTSD, and received the help I needed. I became happier, more confident, more in control of my life than I have ever been. I felt like for the first time, my life was going in the right direction.

One day I was talking to my adoptive mother about how my little brother might be too young for therapy because he wasn't talking much in his sessions. The she told me what his therapist said to her:

"At least one of them will turn out normal." 

I had always felt judged for what my birth parents did, but hearing that a professional believed that I would forever be tainted because of my past sticks with me. 

I may have issues, but I am not broken. I am not destined to follow in my parents' footsteps and I'm not destined to lose my battle with my illnesses. 

I understand all of this on a logical level, but there's still that intrusive voice telling me that I will fail, I'm sick, I'm not normal, and I never will be.

"Did you always have all those little dots on your face?"

I started attending a spiritual group for a few weeks, and I quickly grew to love it. After the meeting, a bunch of us would go eat at this little restaurant and just have a good time.

An older gentleman, an amazing mad scientist, soon joined. I was totally fascinated by him and I was eager to talk to him one-on-one. 

One day at the restaurant, we ended up sitting next to each other and chatting. All of a sudden he said, "What is that on your face?" 

Confused, I asked him to clarify. 
He replied, "I didn't have my glasses before. Did you always have all those little dots on your face?" 

I was stunned, and I managed a quiet, "Yes." 

I never returned to the group after that. I was plagued with mortifying thoughts of how he could ask that in such a way, as if it wouldn't offend me. 

My skin is clear now, but this still sticks with me. 

"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. 

"Is that you?"

I work as a beauty advisor, and one day a former classmate who I didn't know very well happened to stop in. I look different than I did when I was younger. My naturally blond hair is dyed purple, and I have quite a few noticeable piercings and gauged ears. I also no longer wear color-correcting contacts for my rare eye condition called "Heterochromia," which makes my eyes two different colors. 

At first she just kind of stared at me and didn't say much. But once I offered her assistance, she scowled at me and asked, "Is that you? What are you doing as a beauty advisor? Shouldn't you know a thing or two about beauty?" 

This made me feel incompetent at my job, and I even wanted to leave and quit. To this day, I am self conscious about how I appear in public.