Ok, I will share with you that I have been feeling led to write about my experiences growing up and what led me to Christ. Also, all that Christ has brought me through. I was in church about a week ago, and something the pastor said planted this seed in me. So I was thinking I would start by writing about it on here, and you 9 loyal followers could tell me what you think.
Starting with childhood, I was raised by Christian parents in an upper-middle-class home in Orange County. By all estimations, I was loved and privileged. There is no sob story there. I am the middle of 3 girls, with one sister 5 1/2 years older, and one 5 1/2 years younger. Because of that, I guess I suffered from a pretty common middle-child angst. I always felt over-shadowed by my beautiful, popular, talented older sister, who everyone seemed to love and admire. And my younger sister was the beautiful baby, with long blond curls, who was so cute and sweet that everyone cooed over her. She had an agent and we were frequently shuttled back and forth to L.A. for her commercial auditions. I got to tag along while she modeled for magazine ads and was treated like a princess by makeup artists and photographers.
As I began puberty, I was an overweight, nerdy girl, at least from my perception. From about 5th grade on, I was teased mercilessly by kids at school. I was asked if I was pregnant, and had that Al Yankovic song "Fat" sang to me by neighborhood kids when I was out playing. "When you go outside to get the mail, it measures on the Richter scale." I was also extremely sensitive, so I didn't know how to deal with the kids who teased me. They saw that it upset me, which served to further egg them on. I'd had friends in elementary school and was relatively happy through 4th grade, but the summer between 4th and 5th, we moved from Laguna Hills to Irvine, and I started a new school.
Being the new girl was hard, and I don't think I ever felt accepted the way I had at my old school. By the end of the year, there was talk about me being unchalleged in my academics, and it perhaps being a good idea to move me ahead a grade. I was all for this- I thought Junior High was the answer. At the time, I related better to adults than kids my own age, and I loved to read and write stories. The one thing I knew I was good at was being intelligent. So I encouraged my parents to go ahead with the move to a higher grade.
That summer I turned 11, and in the fall I entered 7th grade. Most kids are 12 or 13 in 7th grade, and there is a big difference between 11 and 13. Huge. I loved school that fall, found my classes challenging and interesting, especially GATE English and Social Studies, where I had wonderful teachers that fostered my love for reading and writing. But socially, it was a different story. I couldn't seem to make a single friend, and often ate lunch alone or in the library. But then the school bully, a very large girl who was also unliked by the masses, found me in the library. I think at first she may have tried to be my friend, but I was so scared of being seen with the most reviled girl in school when I was trying so hard to fit in, that I denied her my friendship. Which made me a target of her bullying. She would follow me around the library, swinging her Guess canvas book bag full of heavy textbooks, at me. It hurt. So the library wasn't safe.
Phys Ed was another nightmare. I was overweight and out of shape, and we had to wear these horrible double sided t-shirts which were thick and made me sweat like a pig. I was always last to be picked for teams, and would ineveitably get yelled at for making the team that got stuck with me lose. I was uncoordinated, couldn't hit a ball or run fast. When we had to run the mile and get timed, I was always last to finish and the whole class would be waiting at the finish line, taunting me.
By mid-year, it had gotten so bad that my parents decided to pull me out of the public school and enroll me in a private Christian school in Newport Beach. There, they thought, it would be a small class of 'Christian' kids whose parents cared about raising them right. As it turns out, pretty much the opposite was true. I was entered mid-semester into a 7th grade class of only 12 kids. The 7 girls in the class were one big cliques, led by Jackie and Kristen. Instead of the nice Christian kids from good families that my parents had imagined, these were troubled girls who had gotten kicked out of public school and sent to Christian school as an effort to straighten them out.
One thing about me at age 11 is I was innocent, and what you might call a goody-two-shoes. I obeyed the rules, knew little if anything about sex or drugs or any kind of trouble one might get into. All I knew was just say no and Jesus loves you and doesn't want you getting into any trouble. So, quickly I became the target of Jackie and Kristin, who teased me and threatened to follow me after school and "kick my ass." I was scared for my life, and would run out to my waiting moms cars every day as soon as the last bell rang, scared for my life.
Then one day, suddenly, their attitude changed. Kristin was having a birthday slumber party, and I already knew that she had invited all the girls in the class but me. Then suddenly, a couple days before the party, she and Jackie and the gang approached me at lunch and told me that they'd had a change of heart. They wanted to be nice and invite me to the party. I hesitated, because I didn't trust their sudden amiability after all the threats to kick my ass. I smelled a trick. But then I was chided that how dare I be a snob, when they were reaching out to me and trying to be my friend? I was caught in a catch-22. If I agreed to go to the party, I feared they were plotting a new way to humiliate me. But if I said no, they were going to brand me an ungrateful snob and torture me all the more.
I ended up choosing to hope for the best, that they really had experienced a change of heart and were ready to accept me as their friend. My mom dropped me off at the party in the afternoon on a Saturday. First, Kristen's mom took us all to Carl's Jr. for lunch, and that part seemed to go smoothly. Then we came back to her house, and her mom disappeared. The girls were all hanging out in the front yard, talking about what to do. Someone suggested going and getting the teenage boys who lived across the street. They started talking about who would go in the van parked in the driveway and have sex with them. The girls tried to coax me into doing it, but I was scared mute. I shook my head in horror. Finally, Jackie and Kristin took turns going into the van with one of the boys, while the other 5 of us stood there in the lawn watching the van shake. I was scared and horrified, and honestly didn't even know what they were doing, except that it was very wrong. I honestly didn't even know what sex was at that age, only that you weren't supposed to do it.
After that, the evening progressed with one of the girls bringing out a collection of airplane sized bottles of liquor she's stolen from her parents. The girls all tried to get me to drink, and teased me and called me a goody-goody and other names when I wouldn't. Then came threats of cutting up my night gown, and doing things to me when I went to sleep.
The next morning, I desperately wanted to go home and called my mom to come pick me up. As I was waiting, something happened to get Jackie and Kristin riled up against me again, and before my mom showed up, they had cirlcled around me and were about to start fighting me. I was scared for my life. By the time my parents showed up I was in tears, and left sobbing and swore I would never go back and face those girls at school again.
So, I started the 3rd new school of that year. At Lakeside, I was not popular, and still got some teasing, but I was able to go to school without being tortured. I has a wonderful English teacher named Mrs. Mercer for both 7th and 8th grade, due to the fact that they had a "Core" class for GATE students. She was an inspiration, and I spent many a lunch with her praising my writing and telling me how I was talented and smart, and someday soon all of this wouldn't matter, that it was people like me who went on to be extremely successful as adults. She gave me all sorts of tips for "not letting the tukeys get me down." I made a few friends and even joined the school paper and yearbook comittee my 8th grade year.
When 8th grade ended and we were getting ready for High School, we were given a choice of attending any of the 3 High Schools in Irvine. Most kids from Lakeside were going to Woodbridge, but I thought I should try Irvine, because it was closer to my house, and also where my sister had gone. Part of me figured that my older sister had been so popular there that I could ride in on her legend and fit in. She had starred in several plays, and Irvine was known for it's great drama program and theater productions. I thought I was interested in acting, too, so it would be a good fit for me.
The spring of 8th grade, I started going to Weight Watchers with an older friend of mine that I rode horses with. She encouraged me, and over the summer I slimmed down and finally looked what I felt was "normal." I was excited to start High School, and felt that everything would be different. At Freshman Orientation, I met a girl in line in front of me named Andy Ashman. She was tall and beautiful and loud and funny, and also new. We became instant friends, and she seemed like the friend I'd always dreamed of having. She was instantly popular, and boys liked her. She seemed to have a glow around her.
That day at orientation, we quickly realized who the cutest boy in our class was- Donnie Jeffcoat, star of some Nickelodeon show that everyone knew about. He was a local celebrity and everyone wanted to date him. We also soon heard that he already had a girlfriend, and that her name was Kristin Hoy. When I heard that name, my stomach dropped to my knees. It couldn't be THE Kristin Hoy, the infamous slumber party host.
But alas, strage world that it is, it was indeed that Kristin Hoy. Dating the cutest, most popular boy in school before the school year had even begun. But now I had an ally in Andy, and we immediately began plotting to take her down. We hung out almost every day of the rest of that summer, gabbing on the phone and making up silly songs and dance routines. I thought she was my best friend, and that we were going to have a wonderful freshman year together.
Then school started, and Andy and I didn't have any classes together except drama. I was in honors English and History, and she was not. As a result, the kids in my classes were the "smacks," the smart kids. But I wanted to be a popular, cool girl, not a smack. Andy soon had a new group of friends, girls who weren't part of the honors group, and I didn't really fit in. She made friends with a girl named Shannon, who had gone to the first Junior High I attended, and also taken dance classes with me and my sisters. While I had been chubby and had two left feet, she was the star of the dance academy, a prima ballerina who also had a reputation for being a real brat.
Freshman year had it's ups and downs. I was often hurt when Andy chose to hang out with Shannon and her group, and didn't make an effort to include me. I made friends with some of the girls in my honors classes, but always felt they were kind of nerdy and longed to be cool and popular. The summer after freshman year, Andy got a job at Wild Rivers, and helped me get one too. Suddenly we were the best of friends again, and Shannon and the mean girls at school were all but forgotten. That summer I had my first kiss, with a boy that Andy introduced me to. It was pretty much a dare, and he probably went along with it because Andy told him to, but it was the highlight of my young life.
Andy started spending the night at my house often, and seemed to love being there. She always talked about how lucky I was. She lived with only her mom, and had strange and often conflicting stories about where her dad was. I knew that she was probably lying when she told me that he was always traveling the world on business, or that he was Howard Ashman, the composer of the music for "The Little Mermaid." But I left it alone.
At Wild Rivers, we were surrounded by cute boys our age from different schools. There were a lot of employee parties, and I got my first taste of alcohol one night on the beach with some boys Andy knew. We drank wine coolers and I had my second kiss with one of the older boys. One night all of the Wild Rivers employees had a bonfire at Aliso Beach in Laguna. Andy's mom dropped us off, and mine had agreed to pick us up at 9:30. At one point, we left the party and walked out on the pier, where we met a cute lifeguard and started talking to him. He was interested in me, and I got a rush from the attention. He asked me to go for a walk, and I told Andy I would meet her back at the party in a few minutes.
We walked south on the beach, away from the party. After walking around the big rock that marks the south end of the beach, we sat down and started kissing. I was thrilled. I thought he was a gorgeous older boy (he was I think 16), and I was excited by this rush of new feelings I was having. I guess I lost track of time, but I didn't think we were gone that long. When we came walking back, holding hand, we saw a commotion in the parking lot. There was a police car with lights flashing, Andy came running up crying saying "Where WERE you?" and then I saw my dad, looking like he was going to kill me. The police separated me and the boy, and questioned us about where we had been and what we were doing.
I insisted that we had just gone for a walk, that nothing had happened, and that was te truth. We had kissed, that was it. But the cops and my parents seemed convinced that something more sinister had gone on, and that this older boy was to blame. I have never been so scared of my dad as I was that night. I was lectured the whole way home that I has been ridiculously irresponsible, did I have any idea what could have happened to me? (I didn't.) I was grounded for the rest of the summer, and told I would only be allowed to go to work and straight home, and I got my phone taken away.
I fell into a depression. My parents insisted on taking me away to Palm Springs, where it was 112 degrees, and too hot to even go to the pool. This was mid- August at this point. I had wanted to stay at home with Andy and not go on the trip, but they said no way. I spent the entire vacation pouting inside the condo, listening to George Michael's "Listen Without Prejudice" CD over and over on my discman and feeling sorry for myself, imagining all the fun my friends were having back at home.
My Sophomore school year started with a feeling of letdown. I worried that when school started again, Andy would go back to hanging out with Shannon and her school clique, and ignoring me. My fears were basically founded. I started off taking a full load of classes, starting with an optional zero period AP Biology class that started at 7am. I tried to throw myself into the school year, but the memories of summer and boys and feeling "cool" for the first time in my life clashed with the reality of school, where I was just the same old me I had been the year before.
I joined Concert Choir (think Glee, but all girls), and started making some new friends there. But September was mostly a downer. In October, I started feeling a new passion for life. Suddenly, school seemed interesting and I felt like I was mastering all of my classes. Always a writer, I began staying up late at night writing entire chapters of novels and short stories, as well as poetry. I also took to chatting for hours a night on the phone, gabbing with Andy and other friends on the private phone line my parents had let me get, until I inevitably got yelled at by my dad to be get off the phone or get it taken away.
I started feeling chatty with girls at school that I had previously been afraid to talk to. I suddenly felt attractive and interesting, and people seemed to respond to me in kind. In Concert Choir, we broke up into teams for a fund-raiser, selling candy. My first day I hit up all my baby-sitting clients in the neighborhood, and had the highest sales. I was rewarded with a $10 cash prize and plenty of praise and encouragement from my teammates to keep up the good work so we could win more prizes. I went home, and having tasted the attention, wanted more. I decided that it would be easy to sell a whole bunch of candy if I sat at the grocery store with a table like the Girl Scouts did with cookies, so I started filling up my order sheet with fake orders in the names of everyone I could think of that I knew.
The attention kept coming, and I won more cash and prizes, and was suddenly the star of my choir. I don't remember ever thinking of the consequences or feeling that what I was doing was wrong. I just felt drunk on the attention and the fact that for once I was the center of attention.
Around this time, Andy invited me to come home with her after school one day on a Wednesday, to hang out and then go to youth group that night at the church by her house. My mom agreed because church was involved, although at this point she already didn't like Andy much, and thought she was a bad influence on me. I was just glad to have my buddy back, as since school had started she had gone back to hanging out with Shannon and her gang, and not eating lunch with me or hanging out with me at break.
After school we walked to the city bus stop and waited for the bus. Andy pulled out a pack of Marlboro cigarettes and lit up. She asked me if I wanted to try one but I wasn't sure. She also caught me up on her recent activities, telling me that she had spent the night at a hotel with an older boy she'd met and lost her virginity. She decribed it like it was so grown up, and ironically I felt envious of her and like I had to catch up, because I was always feeling like she was older and prettier and cooler than me.
Now, let me tell you that I was raised in a very conservative-values home, with married Christian parents that took me to church every week, usually several times a week. (Twice on Sunday, and Wednesday night youth group, plus week long summer camps and winter ski trips and discipleship retreats. I was in all the church choirs and holiday musical productions.) I had been told little about sex from my mom, mostly how babies were made and wait until you're married to do it. At youth group I'd heard a little more, such as masterbating is a sin if you think about someone while you do it, since that would be lust. I had an older sister, so I knew a little from talking to her as well, but on the whole didn't know much.
That past summer, before my 14th birthday, I had gone to Disneyland with Karen, a girl who lived on my street and was a little younger than me. I don't remember if my parents were there and had just let us go off by ourselves, or if they had dropped us off for the day. What I remember is being in line for the People Mover, the "Dark Ride" that was known as a make-out ride. Karen and I got in line behind two older boys, who judging from their haircuts were Marines. So I guess they must have been at least 18 or 19. Being the boy-crazy girls we were, I'm sure we talked to them and flirted, but innocently. We got on the ride, 4 of us in one small car, and the boys each sat next to one of us girls.
When we got to the dark "Tron" part of the ride, the boy next to me took my hand, and at first I was excited, like wow, he's holding my hand. Then he took my hand and placed it down his pants, before I knew what was happening. I pulled it away in shock, never having seen, let alone felt, a man's penis before. I inched as far away from him as I could get, but the ride dragged on for what seemed an eternity. When we could finally escape, I grabbed my friend's hand and ran for the nearest bathroom, where we hid in a stall and I told her what happened. We stayed in the restroom for about 30 minutes, and finally asked a lady to pretend to be our mom and walk out with us. The guys were long gone.
Now, about 3 months after that incident, Andy was telling me about having sex. We took the bus back to her house, which was empty, her single mom being at work. She suggested we sneak into her mom's liquor cabinet and get drunk. I watched as she took a 32 ounce plastic cup and poured a mixture of Southern Comfort, Vermouth, and some kind of schnapps into it. The only alcohol I'd ever tried was wine coolers at the beach with her that summer, so I just did what she said, which was to plug my nose and gulp down as much as I could. I gagged twice and nearly threw up, but managed to keep it down. It was the most awful tasting thing I has ever had.
We went into her room and played loud music, then pretended to be doing homework when her mom came home and peeked in on us. To avoid getting caught, Andy dragged me outside as soon as her mom left the room. We walked out into her neighborhood and headed for a park. She lit up a cigarette and handed it to me, showing me how to smoke it. After inhaling a drag or two, I remember being so lightheaded that I fell down on the sidewalk. We laughed and laughed, lying there on the sidewalk, then kept walking. She took me to the house of a boy she knew who was in our grade but went to the other high school across town. He was a football player, and had a few of his team mates over.
In his house, which also had no parents around, we sat and talked for a few minutes, me feeling drunk and dizzy and not saying much. I saw Andy whisper something to Dustin, the boy whose house it was, and they looked at me. She then told me to go with him, so I followed him into his bedroom. He kissed me briefly and then told me he was going to teach me something new. He pulled down his pants and pushed my head toward his crotch. Soon after, he hurriedly got dressed and told me he had to go to football practice and we had to leave. I remember thinking, is he my boyfriend now? I felt kind of stunned, but also kind of proud of how grown up I was.
Outside again, Andy congratulated me and asked to know all the details. She then gave me pointers on how to do it better and laughed. We walked over to the church down the street, where we were supposed to be atteding youth group at 6. I didn't want to go to church drunk, so we found a pay phone and Andy started calling all the boys she could think of who might come pick us up. I tried calling Brian, the boy I'd first kissed at the pool that summer, but he sounded disgusted with me and told me to call him when I was sober, that I should go home. Andy called a boy who lived across the street from her, and he agreed to come pick us up. He drove us down the street to the parking lot of the nearby community college, and after listening to music on the car stereo for a few minutes, Andy got out of the car to "go for a walk" and left me with the boy. We started kissing and he asked me if I wanted to go in the back seat and "do it." I shrugged and we went.
I remember thinking at the time of nothing but the fact that I wanted to "get it over with," so I could be equal with Andy and shed the goody-goody image I believed I had. I thought that the reason I'd been umpopular and had trouble with friends was that I was a prude, and this was what everyone else was doing. I had just turned 14 in July, 3 months prior. I was still a child, but I thought I was all grown up. I see now as an adult just how clueless I was to what I was doing, and the gravity that decision would have on my life.
It was painful. I remember a few tears running down my face, mentally just telling myself it would be over soon. Afterward, we got out of the car, and Andy was laughing, as always, and told me that she had watched the whole thing from outside the car, until the windows fogged up. The boy drove us to the liquor store across the street and bought us a pack of gum, then drove us back to the church. We went in late to the service and I went to the bathroom to clean up, stuffing a pad into my panties because I was bleeding.
My mom picked me up and I went home, acting like nothing special had happened, and wrote about the whole thing in my journal that night.
The weeks that followed, I began feeling overly energetic, waking after sleeping only 2 or 3 hours and feeling compelled to get on my computer and type long stories or scribble 100s of pages in my journal. I would get up really early in the morning, dress and leave for school, stopping along the way at the park, or getting to campus early and working ahead in my books until class started at 7.
I remember one night feeling hyper and unable to sleep on a Friday night. I found some sample sized bottles of prescription cough syrup left over from a bad cold I'd had earlier that year, and drinking two or 3 bottles in an attempt to get drunk. I danced around my room in circles until finally passing out on the floor. I woke in the morning, still feeling drunk but also bursting with energy. Not wanting my mom to notice my dilated pupils, I left the house quickly and took off riding on my bike. I had seemingly limitless energy, and rode 15 or 20 miles to Newport Beach. Once there, I remember finding an older boy who lived on the peninsula and talking him into buying me wine coolers. I hung out at his beach house drinking until late afternoon, then rode my bike home.
The next Friday night, I left on my bike to go to a school football game. I told my parents I was meeting friends, but really went alone. Once at the game, I stood around smoking cigarettes and trying to find something fun to do. I ran into a boy who lived in my neighborhood and was in my history class at school. He invited me to a party at his house, where his parents were away. I called my parents, who were at a movie, and left a message saying that I was staying at Karen's house, and would call them in the morning.
I went to the boy's house, where we drank and listened to music. I met a boy who I thought was really attractive and seemed like a "bad boy," and we soon ended up in my friend Kevin's bedroom. After having sex for the second time, I fell asleep laying next to him. The next morning I awoke very early, left and rode my bike the 2 blocks home. I thought I would sneak in quietly before my parents woke up, but when I opened the front door, I found them sitting at the kitchen table looking like someone had died.
"Where have you been?" They demanded. "At Karen's. I told you," I said. "We talked to Karen's mom, and you were not there, and Karen did not see you all night." So I tried another lie: "Ok, I was at Andy's. I was afraid you'd be mad." But, "We called her, too. Andy didn't go to the football game and didn't see you all night." So then I came clean and told them I had gone to Kevin's house right down the street, that it was no big deal, we just hung out and watched movies. They didn't buy that either, and told me that they had called the police and they were out looking for me. It was scary and awful and I knew I was in deep trouble. The worst part was my mom crying and saying that she was so disappointed in me, and had no idea what had happened to her "sweet little girl." Sadly, I had no idea what had happened to her, either.
They proceeded to tell me that they had read my diary, and I was horrified and humiliated. I had decribed in graphic detail all of my recent sexual escapades. I asked how dare they violate my privacy, and they said that they had no idea where I was and had been looking for clues to find me.
My parents grounded me and took me that week to see a Christian counselor. Not a psychiatrist, just a regular therapist. She told me parents after meeting with me that she suspected I was on drugs, likely meth amphetamine. I was horrified and indignant when asked about this, as I had never so much thought about doing drugs in my life.
I was grounded and not allowed to leave the house, but that didn't stop me from desperately wanting to see my new "boyfriend," Jonathan. I asked my parents if he could come to church with us, and they agreed. He showed up in a leather jacket and jeans for church, smelling of cigarettes. I know my parents were horrified, but they took him with us. Halfway through Sunday School, we stuck out to a baseball field behind the church and hooked up in the dugout. Feeling no remorse but rather a strange sense of satisfaction at having done something so bad, I walked back into church and bragged to one of my friends about it.
The following week, I went out at snack break to the unofficial "smoking section" at school. It was a spot just off-campus behind the pool, where the smokers would hang out to get their fix. These were all the types of kids I had avoided my whole life. Shannon was there, along with her crew.
After lighting up a cigarette, an older girl approached me and accused me of hitting on her boyfriend, claiming she'd seen me giving him a back rub at Lampost Pizza. I had no idea what she was talking about, and told her I had my own boyfriend. She told me I had to the count of 5 to leave or she was going to kick my ass. I stood there staring at her defiantly and refused, while she counted to five on her fingers. Then she punched me in the face. I hit back, and soon a bigger, tougher girl jumped in, pinned me against a fence, and punched me repeatedly in the face. When the bell rang to go back to class, I was sobbing and hurting. Not knowing what else to do, I went to my next class, which was concert choir.
The girls all gathered around me, half of them having heard about the fight already. Not long passed before a messenger brought a slip to the class ordering me to the principal's office. I was told that the other girl looked at least as bad as me, so it was therefore considered mutual combat, and we were all 3 suspended. My dad came to pick me up, and took me again to see the counselor.
That night, my mom, in tears, told me I was never going back to that school. Once again, she tried to rescue me by letting me run away from my problems. I waited out the suspension and ugly black eye for about a week, then started school at Woodbridge High School. Little did my mom know that the football player I had messed around with that fateful day with Andy, and also one of my best friends from my summer job, Shara, both went to Woodbridge. Also, cross town gossip travels fast, and plenty of people at that school had heard about my fight at Irvine.