A message from Tarah

My weight struggles have been a common topic here on the blog; over the years that I've been writing I know I've written about the people and experiences that made my life in high school so unbearable. Six years of names and being stalked through the cafeteria, the hallways, and buses. Some of the things that were said to me, and to be fair not entirely by the person below, are so cruel that I don't want to bring them back by repeating them here.

Anyway, no April Fools, I found this in my Facebook inbox last night when I was sending Jillian the message that I made it home safely after a long day. It was in the "other" file, which means it was sent on March 21 but I never saw it.

Hi Manda.....I feel like I've sent you a message before on Facebook but I'm not sure if I actually sent it or just wanted to send it. Anyways, I just want to tell you-you look gorgeous as ever. I hope you are doing well. Looks like you are very happy!! I want you to know that I feel so bad for being such a bully when I was younger. Now that I'm older and wiser (and have children of my own-1 with special needs)-I can reassure you that I am a different person than you remember me. I've always wanted to apologize....so here it is. Hope this message finds you well. Take care!! Tarah

I just sat there last night, thinking it must be some kind of joke until I saw the date. This girl was my neighbor - she tortured me in the neighborhood, on the bus, and especially at school.  My mother had to meet with the principle/superintendent about the harassment; eventually she was forced to publically apologize to me by her own mother, who rode the bus with her to make sure she did it. 

As I laid down last night, I let the past come: the words, the shoves, the stares. Tarah's cadre of girls, following me, stalking me through the halls, through the cafeteria, off the bus. How my personality began to change in order to escape. The onset of panic attacks. The first cigarette. The bout with starvation - I had just three pretzels and a sip of orange juice for lunch for about five months, skipping breakfast and only eating what I was made to for dinner, until my best friend threatened to tell my mom. I was on a diet from the age of 11 forward. I remembered just how many sessions with my psychologist after the car accident were given to processing those high school years that led up to me not having a voice to defend myself, and how that played into my trauma and leaving of a stage career.

Strangely enough though, I also knew last night that I wasn't angry. Surprised and speechless, yes, but not angry. I didn't realize how beautiful that was until I woke up this morning. I re-read the message. As I wrote to Jean this morning, my first thought-feeling was, "It was really brave of her to send that." It's hard to ask for forgiveness, even if you don't say the words implicitly, knowing that someone has reason to be hateful toward you forever. My second thought-feeling was, "That poor girl - what was happening to her that made her need to take out so much misery on me?" 

And that was when I realized - I've already completely forgiven her. I will always have the memories, my pain, the old habits and beliefs, but my immediate reaction after I processed was compassion. Isn't that beautiful? And there's the gift. Those terrible years made me into a person who is exquisitely introspective and sensitive toward self and others, and strong of spirit in a way that I don't think I'd trade. These events and those that ensured have forced me to learn how to let go, leading me to a path of wanting to help other girls and women learn to inhabit and nourish their bodies, heal their spirits, and love their precious self-existence.

I feel like I got this message at a key point in my life. I feel like it's a message from God Herself, telling me, "Yes, Amanda, you can use all of this to propel you forward: helping women love their bodies and mend their relationship with food. You can trust your heart - it has healed."

Now, to go fashion a reply to perhaps one of the most pivotal people of my life.