ElleSpeak

“Why is this happening to me? I never asked for this!”

I was four years and six months old when I started half-day kindergarten at Robert Browning School #73. On my first day Mom walked with me the four blocks from our house to the school, introduced me to my teacher, knelt down to look me in the eye, gave me a big hug and whispered, “It’s going to be fine. Be a good girl!”, then turned and left me there alone.

As I watched her disappear through the door of the kindergarten room, I quickly realized it was her intention to leave me with this white-haired woman, and a room full of small strangers. Didn’t she know these were people I’d never met before?!

I never asked for this! I was perfectly happy staying at home ignoring my stuck-up older brother when he deigned to be around us, and playing happily with my little brother the rest of the time. How could she leave me here alone?! What was she thinking?!

I turned toward the door and for one second thought about yelling at the top of my lungs “Wait! Please! Please! Don’t leave me here!”, but even at 4 years old I was not someone who enjoyed creating a scene; so as the panic started pumping through my body, my heart jumped into my mouth, my breath started coming in short gasps, and my eyes zoomed around the room desperately searching for a way out of this terrifying situation.

My eyes filled with unshed tears as they flew from the long tables and chairs occupied by children, to the coat hooks, art easels, storage cabinets, bookshelves, and rolled up rugs used for naps, until they found and rested hopefully on a very large, black thing sitting in the far corner of the room. I could see that this thing sat just far enough away from the wall for a skinny, little person like me to slip through the narrow opening and hopefully disappear from all these strange people who were just staring at me!

Somehow, I found my legs and ran as fast as I could to the far corner of the room, and as I pushed my little body through that narrow opening the tears began to spill from my eyes and roll down my cheeks. They dripped off my face and eventually soaked the bodice of the new red dress my Mom had sewn especially for my first day of kindergarten. But…I had found my refuge…and I spent my first day of kindergarten…hiding…behind the big, black piano.

As I sat on the floor behind the piano, between sobs that caught in my throat and threatened to choke me, I eavesdropped on conversations of the other children as they colored pictures, ate their cookies and milk at snack time, unrolled their rugs for a short nap, and listened to the white haired lady, Mrs. McDonald, read a story.

I tried to find the courage to come out from behind the piano, especially for the cookies and milk, but I was too afraid of all those strange eyes looking at me, and I was afraid of them laughing at me for hiding behind the piano. I felt silly, ashamed, and alone, but I just couldn’t help myself.

After what seemed like an endless period of time, I heard a bell ring loudly, and shortly after that, my mother’s voice calling my name, “Eleanor?” She always said my name with a question at the end, as if she weren’t sure I was really me, or as if she were about to ask me something. At the welcome sound of her voice I quickly pushed my skinny little body back through the narrow opening, away from the safety of the little corner behind the piano, and into the safety of my mother’s arms.

I buried my face in her dress, sobbing my relief, rolling my head back and forth on the soft fabric. As we walked home together, I couldn’t find the words to tell her how disturbing my first day of school had been. I just held onto her hand and was grateful it was over.

The next day was a little better, and each day after that would become more bearable. I didn’t feel the need to hide again, at least not behind the piano. I hid right inside my head, in my own little world, and when someone spoke to me, I ducked my head down so they couldn’t see my face, and responded so quietly it was difficult for my words to be heard. I was, as they say, painfully shy.

Eventually I came to like school, but there were many more daunting “firsts” in school and in my life, and I always faced them with great trepidation. Many times, I just wished I could die rather than face another “first”. If you’re reading this story, you already know I survived those many uncomfortable moments, but in time I grew tired of being so fearful of new things and new situations. I decided I needed a different outlook and to make that happen…I had to face my fear…fear of firsts…fear of people…fear of judgment…fear of embarrassing myself…fear of not being good enough.

I chose to face some of those fears by putting myself in situations that required me to be in front of people, fully present and pleasant to others. Waiting tables was the first “trial by fire”. It forced me to confront my fear,
person by person, until the fear dissolved.

From there, I created and enjoyed a long and successful career in the beauty industry giving manicures and massages, coming face to face with a different
client every hour or so.

Becoming a Yoga instructor helped me become more comfortable speaking in front of others, and today performing with my husband at assisted living communities in front of many people is very comfortable for me, and brings me great joy.

A few years ago, I chose to face the fear of another “first” and created my blog so I could share my thoughts and writing with others. Speaking out like this is still one of the most difficult things I do because it’s so personal, but I do it with the hope of inspiring others to remember, reflect, and share their own story in some way; because I believe it’s through our most personal stories that we feel our deepest connection to one another.

Being touched by another person’s story can help us to feel less alone, and if the story resonates strongly with us it can inspire us to find the courage to face our own fears, and when we face our fears we become stronger and happier individuals, and our personal strength and happiness can help to create an even better world for ourselves and for others.

I encourage you to share your story in some way. You never know who just might be waiting to hear it.