The Lie: I Am Forgotten

Throughout my childhood, I was left behind or forgotten.

When I was five years old, we lived in Guam. One night, we were at church having a birthday party for our priest, Father Roberto. I went to use the bathroom and when I came back out, my parents were no longer in the big room. So, I remember going to the parking lot to look for them. I have a very clear memory of crying as I watched the tail lights of our conversion van fading into the darkness. What had happened, apparently, was that everyone piled into the van (and apparently a couple of neighbor friends were with us) and before my dad drove off he said, "Is everyone here?" And everyone that was there said, "Yes!" Thankfully, a family friend saw me immediately brought me home.

Several years and two moves later, we were living in Iceland. I was in 7th grade at A. T. Mahan high school at NAS Keflavik, Iceland. Our school had a school-wide field trip day and there were four trips you could choose from. My siblings and I all chose different ones. My field trip was the last to return home. It was almost dark. No one was at school to pick me up, so I called home. Unfortunately, someone was on the Internet which, at that time, meant all I got was a busy signal. (Holy cow, my kids will NOT understand this. We don't even have busy signals anymore.) I ended up walking home. We frequently had windy and rainy days and this was no exception. Thankfully, the walk was not a long one. All the same, I was forgotten again. (By the way, my sister has her own horrific tale from this field trip. All to do with poor teacher's judgement on hiking distances.)

My eighth grade year found us in Travelers Rest, South Carolina. My dad used to drop me off that the library when he took my brother to Boy Scout meetings. And, I bet you know how this ends, I was left at the library. This happened twice. I remember calling home and as soon as my sibling on the other end of the line said, "Hey Tiffany!" The immediately said, "Oh! Dad's leaving now." And I'm sure there was grief or panic across my dad's face as he realized what had happened. I remember standing in the dark library parking lot with a librarian waiting for my dad to come get me.

To add insult to injury, my mom would often say things to me like, "If you're not outside when I come to pick you up, I'm just going to leave you." Which, I GET. It's a total mom thing to say.

But these things. They all add up.

Years later, during conversations with a therapist, I would come to realize that these incidents led me to identifying as worthless and without a voice.

(I feel the need to add here, in case they read this. Mom and Dad. I don't blame you so please do not read that into this story. I do not regret a single thing of my past because I do not regret a single thing of my present.)

I have these deep ruts in the pathways of my brain from speaking the lies to myself: I am not important; I am not worth remembering.

THESE ARE LIES.

And if I'm going to find freedom from the lies I tell myself. I need to speak them aloud.

I am important. I am not forgotten. I am worth remembering. I am loved and valued.

It's not that easy, of course. To just tell myself that I matter. These lies I've been telling myself are SUCH a part of me, that it's painful to break free. I've had a harder time than usual since I learned about these lies. It's like part of my brain is SO ready to hurl a chaotic mess of painful lies that are things I've never said before. I feel like the Enemy is on the attack. (I know. My unbelieving friends are totally rolling they're eyes at me right now!) Like he doesn't want me to find freedom from my shame. So when I start to slip in the sludge toxic shame, I very suddenly will find myself drowning in a bombardment of hate. Well. That's another story for another day.

All that to say.

I am important. I am not forgotten. I am worth remembering. I am loved and valued.

And I will keep repeating these things to myself until I form new ruts in the pathways of my brain from speaking truth to myself.

p.s. Get Rachel Hollis's book, "Girl, Wash Your Face: Stop Believing the Lies About Who You Are so You Can Become Who You Were Meant to Be." (That's an affiliate link.) Also, you can listen to it FREE on Hoopla. It's so stinking good.