The Ellie Letters: Seventh Grade=The Living Nightmare

This letter isn't for any one person in particular. Honestly, I only remember a small handful of names anyway, and I remember fewer faces, and fewer voices. I wish I could say that my memory of you has faded in its entirety, but it has not, and it will not.

I've heard that some of you had no idea that I moved. Maybe you thought I was home schooled, but most likely you didn't even notice. I'll be shocked if you even knew my name. My real name that is. Not those names you decided to give me. Remember those? I certainly do. Stupid, Ugly. I was given those names by you. But don't worry. They didn't hurt...much.

And certainly if you cannot remember my multiple names, you'll remember target practice in class. Sure, this was four years ago, but I remember as clearly as it happened. I didn't see you do it, and you knew that I couldn't see. However, were you aware that the loss of vision has little to do with the loss of the sense of touch? I couldn't see what you were doing, but I could definitely feel the paper wads and erasers hit my back. I haven't told anybody yet though. I won't either. Then, there was no point. I had nothing to prove, and even solid evidence was of little help. Now, it is too late to say anything.

I had lunch with you too, but so did the rest of the seventh grade. Out of the hundreds, I was probably invisible to you. I remember where I sat in the cafeteria. I sat in the section for my group of seventh graders. Most of you were there too, but I'm sure a handful sat on the other side of the cafeteria. I sat at a table in the open. It was an overlooked table by the cafeteria staff. The food remains from breakfast, as well as sixth and eighth grade lunches remained. At least the other tables had the crumbs removed, but not even a filthy, overused, icy cloth that had been dipped in gray water with a couple soap bubbles had touched my table. Nobody sat with me. I don't see why they would, why you would.
You made it clear to me. I was not wanted in your school. I was not liked. No amount of hinting could satisfy that though. When you told me, it had to be loud and clear. "Nobody likes you!" Those were your exact words. Day after day after day. Nothing really changed your opinion of me. Those snickers and laughs. Taunting and teasing. "Why don't you have any friends? Why don't you have any friends? Nobody likes you. You stupid! You ugly!" It became a repeated chorus in the song of my life.

But as the saying goes, "Sticks and Stones may Break my Bones, but words will never hurt me."

And those words didn't hurt...much that is.

But the keyword there is didn't.

-Ellie

[Originally written October 15, 2007]

Elinore Katherine Green "Ellie" was a character I made in July 2007 to anonymously email a friend. I have continued to use "Ellie" as a character to write letters to people about certain situations. While the overall message is true, some minor details may have been altered for various purposes (usually in relation to addressing multiple people as a single person, etc.)

From My Journal: "I Need You to Love Me"

"I've always struggled with understanding God's unconditional love for me. I never felt worthy of that ever since I was a little kid. I think a lot of us believe we are unlovable and that we've got to clean ourselves up. We mess up over and over again. We've got so much sin. We feel terrible about ourselves. So I said, 'Ok, God. Love me-even though everything in me wants to push You away until I can prove to you that I am worthy of love..."
-Becca Barlow (BarlowGirl)

I guess that's [how] I feel-except I know I will never really be worthy. Why bother cleaning myself up? I can't do it.

I feel like dirt-really, I do. I feel so worthless. Why am I loved? I know I am, but why? I'm worthless. I don't deserve that at all. I never will.

I told Jaclyn [in a text message] that "even though people care about me, I don't think they should care at all." I told her that I feel completely worthless.

Her response: "If you were worthless, Jesus wouldn't have died for you...God doesn't make bad deals...He knew that it would cost Him His Son [for you] to be saved."

I told her that I know all that, but it doesn't change how I feel and I don't know if or when that will change.

"Yeah, I know. Feeling are prob the mot difficult things to deal wit[h] in life-which is prob why God doesn't want us to live by them...but it['s] def easier said."

...What do I do? I know that I'm not worthless-God does NOT make worthless things. But how do I deal with being worthless-with feeling worthless. Deep down, in the core of me, I am a mess. I feel lower than the dirt WALK on. I am thinking back to when Sarah messaged me on Myspace saying:

"Every single person is broken...most everybody is just pretending and waiting for someone to tell them that they don't have to anymore."

"God accepts you as you are, always. You don't have to pretend to be anything in front of Him."

...I find myself longing to crawl into a crack in the ground and be completely isolated.

I believe that people care about me, but under that, I cannot for the LIFE or me understand why. I'm such a mess. Is my cover up really that good? I don't think it is...but how can anyone really love me? The real, broken, lower than dirt me? How can anyone possibly love that me? I don't understand. I'm worthless. I'm lower than dirt inside. I'm completely nothing inside-only brokenness in the core of who I am."

[July 8, 2007]

It's weird to think that some things still have not changed in almost two years. I still feel worthless sometimes.

I don't remember this at all, but when I was younger (probably early elementary school aged), my mom was babysitting (like usual). My sister and I were outside with my friends, Matt and Gina in their backyard. We were probably playing in the sandbox. My mom was inside watching us play when she heard a voice telling her to get us inside.

The weather was nice. We were playing outside and everything was good, so my mom decided not to listen. When the voice spoke again, however, she decided to have us come inside. Needless to say, we were not happy about it at all. We hadn't been outside for very long, and we didn't see any reason to come inside. (What we didn't know is that my mom didn't see any reason for us to come inside either.)

I've heard two versions of this story from my mom. One was that the voice told her to take us to the grocery store to buy popsicles (even though they already had popsicles at the house). The other is that she was just told to get us out of the house. Whatever happened, she loaded us up into the car to go to the grocery store for popsicles. I don't know if it happened immediately or while we were out (the story changes each time I hear it), but somewhere within that time span the wind picked up, and a large tree was knocked over.

Right where we were playing.

It's so amazing to realize that God thought I was worth saving when I was probably only five years old. And, I'm almost more amazed when I realize that He doesn't think I'm any less worthy now.

In my last blog entry, inspired by a Josh Wilson song, I wrote about not having to prove yourself to God. I guess this kind of ties into that as well. I need to remember that I don't have to do anything to make myself worthy of His love. He loves me, no matter how I feel. I'm worthy of His love because He says that I am.

No, I don't feel like I deserve it. Far from it, in fact. I don't feel worthy.

But, God, I need You to keep loving me, no matter how I feel.

"Why, why are You still here with me
Didn’t You see what I’ve done?
In my shame I want to run and hide myself
But it’s here I see the truth
I don’t deserve You

But I need You to love me, and I
I won’t keep my heart from You this time
And I’ll stop this pretending that I can
Somehow deserve what I already have
I need You to love me

I, I have wasted so much time
Pushing You away from me
I just never saw how You could cherish me
‘Cause You’re a God who has all things
And still You want me

Your love makes me forget what I have been
Your love makes me see who I really am
Your love makes me forget what I have been"

I Don't Have to Prove a Thing...

"Rapunzel! Rapunzel! Let down your hair!"

I hate Rapunzel. How the heck did that witch get her into the tower in the first place? If there are no stairs... And in the version I was taught it was never clear how she got rescued. Sure, she could get the prince up into the tower with her hair, but how did she get out? 

I'm pretty sure of one thing. I doubt personal hygine was high on the witch's list. Rapunzel's bathroom was probably nothing more than a pot in the room. I doubt she bathed often...if at all. Her long hair was probably greasy and snarled, full of split ends and who knows what else...and that's before we add in the dirt and grease from the witch climbing up and down it. 

Back in June 2007, my friend, Sarah, sent me a message on Facebook. We were talking about fooling ourselves and others into thinking we had ourselves together and we were fine...even if we weren't. 

i love how in the bible, the people who everyone looks down upon, who don't really seem to have it together...who don't really have their own purpose or stubborn agenda for who they want to be...those are the people who Jesus didn't get angry at. He didn't tell the woman crawling towards him to touch His robe to get herself together first, to stand up and pretend like she knew exactly what she wanted God to give to her. She was virtually pride-less and God was able to fill her much more with Him because there was so little left of her.

Can you imagine if the story of Rapunzel went something like this?

"Rapunzel! Rapunzel! Let down your hair!"

"I can't! My hair is a mess!"

"But, Rapunzel! I want to rescue you!"

"Please wait! I look awful. Let me try to clean up first. You can save me later."

Rapunzel isn't the hero of this story. The prince is. I'm sure we'd accept the prince fixing his hair and trying to look his best before he climbs up Rapunzel's hair to rescue her. He's the hero. Rapunzel is not.

But, sometimes, I think I find myself trying to fix myself up to be rescued. I'll try to handle things on my own or act like I'm strong before I go to get help. But I shouldn't have to do that. I'm not the one who should be trying to impress anybody. I'm the one who is broken. I'm the one who is filthy and dirty and in need of a Savior. 

I am not the hero in this story.

"And I am learning to believe

That I don't have to prove a thing

'Cause You're the one who's saving me"

-Josh Wilson ("Savior Please")

Love,

Lissa Kristine