I sat...in silence

Michelle was gone the next year, and I had arrived in high school. Unaware of the moment-un assured of any relief from the prodding-unnoticed so it seemed. My freshman year in high school seemed to be different indeed. In high school, there was more of an opportunity to be with people not unlike yourself. You were able to go to choir, art class, gym and do things that suited your interests. Maybe, that summer between eighth grade and ninth brought with it a change in minds and a pursuit of being more mature. Or did it?

I was what one might term "allergic to sports". They simply didn't fit my desires, nor was I ever interested. I really enjoyed theatre, choir, art and the more creative modes of expression. I did serve as a manager for the high school football team, and so as it was-I had been in this position for a number of years before my peers arrived in high school-so needless to say, in the football field house I wasn't bullied-I knew the lay of that land. Funny how that worked out!! Nevertheless, these same peers would find their time to shove me into lockers, dump things on me in the cafeteria and scream taunts in my direction while walking down the hall.

I began the process of becoming a chameleon of sorts my ninth grade year. I would find as I was sitting in therapy a number of years later, that this was the sort of thing that would cause me to always adapt in relationships and not "stand up" for my wants and desires always. (That has changed for the better).

I decided during my ninth grade year that I was going to focus on my music and let that be my coup d'état so to speak. In the sanctuary of the choir room I felt safe. I knew there were other kids "like me" there although all of us were too afraid to speak up or stand up.

It was also during that year, that I decided to take more of an interest in my spiritual journey. Growing up in a Southern Baptist church, I was there whenever the doors were opened. I sang in the choir, was the president of my youth group, held fund raisers galore to attend church camp, worked in vacation bible school and attended Sunday school. In some strange way-this too was a refuge. Yet-at the same time, it was in its own right a torment. The church can be a beautiful place-yet at the same turn a place of cruelty and hate.