Angel

Angel B.   I am thinking a lot about Angel B. these days.  Angel was a classmate of mine in high school.  She was, I guess you could say, one of the “smart kids”.  Studious, bright, got good grades.  And for the first half of our high school career, she was exactly what you would expect of a smart kid.  She was very nice, but quiet.  Somewhat shy and reserved.

Junior year, I walked into a class, and ended up sitting near her.   When she turned to greet me, I was blown away.  She was, well, the best word I can come up with is vibrant.  It wasn’t just the new hairstyle and make-up, it was a light from inside of her.  She was vivacious and charming.   She radiated confidence and charisma. 

I was one of those girls on the fringe, not really part of any one crowd.   I wasn’t really comfortable with the things the popular kids were doing (drinking, having wild parties, fooling around), but I wanted to shine in some way.  Angel was shining and her transformation seemed magical.  I don’t know what happened to Angel that summer, but the change was miraculous to me.

I am thinking a lot about Angel now.   I am thinking about her, 25+ years later, because I still want to know.  I feel like I need to know.

The years have taken their toll on my confidence, of which I was already in short supply.  I could cite any number of reasons why: my failure to achieve a college degree; my “rescuer” mother; my poor choices in men; too many years in a job where the corporate line is “you aren’t quite enough”; abandonment & weight issues.   

As the years have passed, it has been easier to hide myself, literally and in plain sight.  It was less painful to sit at home watching Friday night TV than it was to go out and feel lonely in a crowd.  It was easier to make up excuses than to come up with social conversation.  It was easier to stay fat and invisible than it was to risk being rejected or used.    It was easier to keep my house a wreck than to have a party and risk no one coming.

My reasons and rationales have protected me from pain, hurt and rejection.  They also protected me from friendship, love and connection.  It’s a choice, maybe not the best one, maybe an inadvertent one, but it was still a choice. 

But now my choices are harming someone else.  The one person in the world I would die for.  My choices, my fears, are harming my daughter.   She is becoming isolated because I am isolated.   I have an invisible force field around me and my daughter is living in its shadow.

It is no longer a matter of trying to change my ways, but I MUST change my ways because my daughter is becoming isolated, too.  And I cannot allow my fears to rob her of having a life filled with people besides her grandparents and me.

I am thinking about Angel a lot today as I prepare to say good-bye to our closest friends.  Natalie and her kids moved in across the street just about two years ago.  She is the friend I know I can call for a 2 a.m. emergency.  She is the friend who takes my kid or lends me hers so I can have a few productive hours in peace.  She is the friend who has seen my house at its worst and doesn’t care. 

This morning it became official – she is taking a job out of town.  She and her husband are separating and she has been unable to find a job in our city.  She got a great offer, and she needs to take it.

I am sad.  I miss her.  And I am terrified.

I am terrified because Natalie is the first person who felt like a real friend in a long time.   Because without Natalie, my social circle becomes a period - there isn’t anything else.    My lack of self-worth lead me to  always wait to be invited in as Natalie invited me in.  And now, I need to make my own invitation.  I need to make my own way.

I don’t know how to do that.  Maybe it’s because I never learned how to make a friend on my own - my best childhood friends were the children of my parents’ friends.  Maybe it is because my mom worked at a time when not many did and that naturally limited my ability to participate in after-school activities.  Maybe I was just born this way.  (I tend to lean towards the latter.

And so I think of Angel.  And wonder what magic spell was cast or potion she took that transformed her into the dynamic young lady she became that summer.  And where I can get my own.

Because I have always been on the outside looking in.  Just on the fringe on the group, included as an afterthought.   

I look at my daughter, and I see myself.  And my heart breaks.  I want more for her.  I want her to be able to make her way, to be the kind of person who is open to letting new people into her life.  And I need to show her how to do it.

I need to step up and figure it out and the time is now.

I need to recognize my worth.  Recognize my value.  Put myself out there in a way that feels horrifically scary and leaves me horribly vulnerable. 

I need to trust my strength.  Trust that rejection, which will inevitably be a part of this process, won’t break me.  Trust that someone else will recognize and appreciate my worth.

I need to let myself shine.

I will probably never know what happened for Angel that summer.  I don’t know if she took a class, read an Andrew Carnegie book, was hypnotized or truly did find her fairy godmother.

Around the same time as Angel’s transformation, my childhood BFF, Kristin, underwent one of her own.  Wanting something different, she set out to become popular.  Anyone who knows Kris knows that when she sets her mind to something, there is nothing that can dissuade her.

That year, she landed a part in the school music.  She traded in her marching band wool & flute for the mini skirt and pom poms of the drill team.  She put herself out there, determined to change her life.  And change it she did.

Her transformation was painful for me, as I was part of her old life that was left in the dust.   I remember my mom telling me that she just decided to change her life and she did.

Could it possibly be that simple?

It doesn’t feel simple.  It feels huge and hard and scary and so far beyond what I am capable of. 

But it can’t be.  It can’t be because I swore to love and protect and nurture this child and she needs better.  She needs me to be better.

I will be better.

Have you ever transformed your life?