This beautiful writing is by Laura Parrott-Perry who gave me permission to publish it and link to her blog.
When I was twelve years old, I thought about giving up every single day. I didn’t want to be here anymore. I didn’t want to go to school and be relentlessly made fun of for wearing the same clothes day after day. I didn’t want to hear how ugly I was, how flat chested… I already knew. Didn’t need the peanut gallery chiming in in the hallway.
In middle school I could not put a foot right. I didn’t look the right way, I didn’t dress the right way, my parents were divorced, my family was poor, I had crooked teeth and there was no money for braces. School was hard for me because LIFE was hard for me.
None of those things are insurmountable, but you don’t know that when you’re twelve.
I became the Artful Dodger of school attendance. I feigned illness ALL the time. It is completely shocking that I was not held back in either 7th or 8th grade because I pretty much just didn’t go. Not if it could be helped. My poor mother. The thing is, though, I really did feel sick to my stomach. That’s what dread feels like.
Link to blog post.
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