I dreamed about him again last week: John. My friend’s brother, the popular teen that I crushed on through junior high and much of high school, the boy who lived in the normal home near my crazy abnormal family on the dirt road. If only he loved me, I would fit in; I’d be normal too.
In school he completely ignored me, but after school he’d sometimes take me on dirtbike rides or start up a touch football game in the yard. And once when his sister invited me to spend the night, he asked me to be his girlfriend. I was so thrilled and happy that it didn’t matter to me that he seemed mostly interested in exploring my body. It didn’t matter, in fact, until Monday morning when he broke up with me at the bus stop and then pretended he didn’t know me once we got to school.
I would love to say that I learned a painful lesson, but I needed love and approval so badly that I would do just about anything for that hope. It took several years of being his weekend girlfriend for me to give up the dream. I began to think that I was unloveable, except by losers and freaks whose problems were much worse than mine, and I was certainly never going to fit into normal society. In a small farming town, there aren’t many other options.
In last week’s dream, John and I were adults. Immediately I evaluated my life through his eyes, as I had done in high school. Was I normal? Valid? Loveable? A loser? I woke up and reminded myself of who I really am: a successful writer and business owner, married to the most wonderful man in the world, with a nice home and two beautiful daughters.
And I realized that John’s voice is one of many voices I carry around with me, voices that throughout my life have told me I’m not good, smart, thin, beautiful, normal, loveable, fun, kind, or successful enough. There are people like a man in college who sneered at me for not reading books he considered “intellectual”. There are people like my dad who could never find anything about me to love, and who disowned me sixteen years ago. These are voices of one comment or years of judgement upon me, and I carry this cacophony around with me every day.
I am dismissing this panel of judges. These people are not qualified to assign me a value. Ancient opinions of my worth had little value then, when these people hardly knew the real me; these valuations have no bearing on who I am today. I do not need to listen to their voices any longer. I’m pulling them from my heart.
John, I release you.
Theresa, I release you.
Rick, I release you.
Lisa, I release you.
Blake, I release you.
Conrad, I release you.
Go in peace. And don’t ever come back.
* the first line of the song “Diamonds and Rust”, by Joan Baez.
Powerful post – makes me stop and think of all the people that should be released too. Aren’t dreams something?
My dreams are powerful. It sure made me think about the old things I still hold onto. Hope you find release, too.
I think it’s so sad that one careless word or action can affect us for our entire life.
Thankfully you let have go of those horrid ghosts that haunted you.
It is amazing the scars we get from our school days, and how long we carry them. Thanks for the reminder to let go and not allow those people to continue to have power over us.
Although I don’t know any of the people you are talking about, I thinks we all KNOW them. We all have them. Thank you for reminding me that we don’t need them and should let them go!
Annette, Julia, you’re welcome! I’m sure we will all be glad to get rid of some of those old tapes.
WOW. Just wow. I love your voice and the message in this post.
Thank you, Lori! Thanks for stopping by.
Angela many times your writing is incredibly powerful. I had my own version of a John and boy it’s hurtful. That he shows up in your dreams is very telling and I said a prayer after reading that that he never does show up again.
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This post really spoke, of all 167 waiting for me in my reader. I don’t know that I have similar ghosts (maybe I just haven’t been brave enough to look), but the serene honesty with which you identify yours is the stuff of heroes.
Hmm, that’s the second time this month I’ve referred to you as my hero.
Take that and eat it, John.
I find it interesting that you still think of his family as the normal one that lived near your family. Outwardly, of course they were normal – as was yours – outwardly. But his father was the one that was overbearing to his wife and his children. John’s sister was the one who joined a gang of girls and beat a defensless girl they found almost to death. His other sister refused to speak to your sister because she was allowed to ride another nieghbor’s horse and she was not. Normal – not hardly.
This is such a powerful post! GOOD FOR YOU. This is inspiring!
Stacey, Kalynne, I’m so glad that this post spoke to you. Wow, somedays I’m a hero to someone? What an honor.
Kathleen/Mom, you’re so right, in the school’s eyes John was this normal popular kid but that family truly was crazy. That time when John’s sister nearly killed that girl is still one of the most horrifying stories I’ve ever heard. Isn’t it funny how our perceptions are formed? I’m blessed that I can see things more clearly now.
Swishy, thanks so much!
i really believed they should go , this is not their world anymore ..
I totally agree, troubled teens! Thanks for commenting.
[...] presents I’ll be damned, here comes your ghost again*, saying, “For years, I carried around the voices of all those who told me I was not good [...]
I’ve been meaning to comment on this for eons, and I keep not knowing what to say about it. It just rings so true. Powerfully written stuff.
Thanks for posting it.
Thanks, Sue, it felt so freeing to let go of the past.
Dear Angelawd,
How did you ever get over your father’s disownment of you? My mother has done the same to my sister and I and 10 years later we still live with the pain.
Forever hurting, I’m so sorry your mother has done that to you. I truly do know the depth of that pain.
I have to honestly say that I haven’t gotten over it. It still hurts, and sometimes I almost cry when I say it. When it hurts, I remind myself that there’s something wrong with him, not with me. On the other hand, I don’t think about him very often; I didn’t have a close relationship with him when I was child. Sometimes I think what hurts is not having the father that everyone deserves to have.
I wish I had some wisdom that could erase your hurt, but I know that’s not possible. Who knows what the future will bring? I hope you and your sister can be a support to each other, and that you find other good women to mother you in her place.
Reading this takes me back to my own teen years. I know well that ache to be loved and approved of. And understand the lengths to which a young girl will go to get some sort love. Through counseling and faith I have almost – almost – overcome it all. On those days when I start hearing the voices creeping around the darkest recesses of my thoughts, I play this song over and over again until I am able to remind myself that the TRUE voice of truth loves me unconditionally and that’s all that really matters. You have probably heard it before, but I wanted to give you the link to the youtube video that is so very uplifting for me.
I am so proud of your growing strength and resolve to not allow anyone in your life, present or past, to drown out The Voice of Truth.
The Voice of Truth by Casting Crowns
Oh, that ache to be loved can take us in such awful directions.
Thanks, Damama! I absolutely love this song but haven’t seen the video. I’ll give this a try when those old voices creep back.
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