The Fight...

I guess there's no secret and well no denying it happened. That yes, I was bullied by many...that is not to say that my horns aren't holding up my halo.

I am so surprised by that one day in the hallway when I got into my first fight. That is what everyone remembers about me, young and old. You know how you post on facebook or back when we used myspace, you would ask your friends to leave a memory about you on your page...well that hallway fight was her memory of me. Not sitting next to her in Sunday school, or in math class, nope me getting into a fight. I even think she included some hahahas in there...what the hell was she thinking? And to this day that seems to be one memory that everyone wants to rehash, so lets do it, but how about this time around I get to tell my side of the story instead of all the gossip that ran through our school like wildfires on that day.

It was my 7th grade year and everyone knew that this one girl wanted to fight me, but no one knew why.  (Imagine that...someone hates me, but there is no reason, seems to be the story of my life). My parents were actively involved in the situation. We spoke with the school, the principal, school board and everyone else and kept them abreast of what she was doing and saying to  me. However, we were told that until she physically touches me there is nothing the school could do. But they did make it clear to myself and my parents, that yes, this girl will jump when she gets the opportunity Well isn't that just the best news of the day. So here I was just waiting on her to attack, always looking over my shoulder, listening to her yell comments abt the catfish queen smelling like catfish...I mean really like you would have known...wondering will it be today, this girl had something to say to me everyday as she walked by...I am beginning to wonder if she sat in her room at night thinking of what to say to me...and then came D Day...it was after lunch on the way back in from canteen...it was a large group of people just walking back to our lockers...there she was walking in front of me. So here is the surprise...I went after her first, I pushed her into the lockers from behind, thought if I got her first then maybe it would just stop...Nope, no way, wrong...errrrr.....epic fail....So here I was in my first fight and I didn't know what the hell I was doing. And the infamous sucker...you guys remember them, they were the NBA ones...also the suckers that caused many of us to get stung by yellow jackets inside our mouths! Boy that sucked, but the sucker itself was good! So anyways, I had a sucker in my mouth...rumor number 1-she placed it in my hair, twisted it all over and yanked the hair out of my scalp. Umm no. I dropped the sucker, and she dropped kicked me in the mouth busting my lips, thank you dear braces for being on her side of the fight because they sure weren't helping me. She did pull my hair towards the end(I mean isn't that what girls do??), when I remember being parralel with the floor, because a few teachers had me on the wall that way. Once she finally let go, all of my hair was still attached to my scalp. Did I get an ass whoopin, well sure I did...she was twice my size and had practice fighting...me, that was a first. Is it one of those memories burned into my brain, somewhat. It's unfortunate because this one still gets me pissed off, but only because people didn't know what happened but they made up their stories...bald spot, black eye...you name it, it was probably said...whatever...

But seriously, I am not afraid to discuss what happened to me during the years I was bullied, its something that I grew up with, I had to learn to cope.  From what I understand she was expelled from school, I was not punished at all, but my sucker in the hair story lives on. I just don't get it. No one remembers the papers that I wrote or the grades I had. All they cared about was that fight. What abt the girl who made the Jayvee Cheerleading squad, the one that smiled alot...nope don't remember her. Oh well. Maybe you might remember her later. But if this fight is how you define who I am, then you have serious issues, if that is the memory you have of us classmates thats awesome. Thats not the memories that I carry with me. I really don't know why this one incident rattles me, but it does...as do most of the others...some wounds are still fresh, only because I have never talked about them before. So feel free to ask me whatever you want. I just pray that my friends remembered something different that day...

Just a penny

For some odd reason this one particular day in Jr High is etched in my mind and will never be forgotten. Of course it is along the lines of bullying, I just don't get it. Children are committing suicide at the age of 13! All because of people picking on them. There was a case where the child's parents had all the proof and evidence they needed to show the school what was going on, but the school wouldn't listen. Instead they ignored it all and all the evidence was destroyed or it somehow disappeared. This young child took his own life because going to school was much more difficult. I pray that my children never feel this way.

Okay, so back to this day...I guess I was in the 7th grade...honestly, I can't remember but I do remember sitting at the lunch table in cafeteria with my "friends". When another girl started picking on me, and I don't mean whispering to the girl next to her, no she was much more profound and made sure that everyone heard her. I think if she were whispering, it wouldn't have been so bad. However, shouting was her way of getting everyones attention. "Penny For a Whore,"she would yell. She was carrying a white Styrofoam cup, one that we would drink tea from, and on it she had written, "Penny for a whore." Standing in the lunchroom she passed this cup around, person to person, asking for everyone to donate a penny to the whore. I just sat there and tried to hold back my tears, as this cup made its way around the lunch room and eventually it was right in front of me. And you know what, people actually thought it was funny, and put money in this cup! I was so humiliated. How could this girl, someone who just the other day said she was my friend do this me? What had I done to deserve such cruelty? Why did she think I was a whore, I mean she didn't know if I was a virgin or not. She just chose to call me such hateful names and others listened and laughed.

I still wonder why she did that and the answer is, I will never know. I can't tell you that I learned anything from it, I can't even tell you why I remember that day much less why I would want to write about it. I mean, who cares, that was over 15 years ago. Right? But I still care and I still wonder why she and some others chose me. Every memory I have, has shaped me into the woman I am today. And today I am happy.  I happy because I am in love with my husband, more so today then the first day we met. I am happy because I have 2 beautiful children, who call me mommy!!

So even though I remember this awful time in the lunch room when I was a kid, I look in the mirror and smile. Why, you may ask? Because I am happy...and of course it doesn't hurt that well, he married me...when he could have been with her...

Had to share...

After writing about my friend whose daughter is being bullied at school, another friend sent me a scripture about bullying. And wow, is it ever right on the mark! And it doesn't tell us to fight. I encourage you all to use the scripture to teach your children about bullying and God. I know I will be using it with my children.

The dialogue that Friday morning was bitter.
From the onlookers, “Come down from the cross if you are the Son of God!”
From the religious leaders, “He saved others but he can’t save himself.”
From the soldiers, “If you are the king of the Jews, save yourself.”
Bitter words. Acidic with sarcasm. Hateful. Irreverent. Wasn’t it enough that he was being crucified? Wasn’t it enough that he was being shamed as a criminal? Were the nails insufficient? Was the crown of thorns too soft? Had the flogging been too short?
For some, apparently so...
Of all the scenes around the cross, this one angers me the most. What kind of people, I ask myself, would mock a dying man? Who would be so base as to pour the salt of scorn upon open wounds? How low and perverted to sneer at one who is laced with pain…
The words thrown that day were meant to wound. And there is nothing more painful than words meant to hurt…
If you have suffered or are suffering because of someone else’s words, you’ll be glad to know that there is a balm for this laceration. Meditate on these words from 1 Peter 2:23 (NIV):“When they hurled their insults at him, he did not retaliate; when he suffered, he made no threats. Instead, he entrusted himself to him who judges justly.”
Did you see what Jesus did not do? He did not retaliate. He did not bite back. He did not say, “I’ll get you!” “Come on up here and say that to my face!” “Just wait until after the resurrection, buddy!” No, these statements were not found on Christ’s lips.
Did you see what Jesus did do? He “entrusted himself to him who judges justly.” Or said more simply, he left the judging to God. He did not take on the task of seeking revenge. He demanded no apology. He hired no bounty hunters and sent out no posse. He, to the astounding contrary, spoke on their defense. “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”? (Luke 23:34 NIV)…
“they don’t know what they are doing.”
And when you think about it, they didn’t. They hadn’t the faintest idea what they were doing. They were a stir-crazy mob, mad at something they couldn’t see so they took it out on, of all people, God. But they didn’t know what they were doing.
Yes, the dialogue that Friday morning was bitter. The verbal stones were meant to sting. How Jesus, with a body wracked with pain, eyes blinded by his own blood, and lungs yearning for air, could speak on behalf of some heartless thugs is beyond my comprehension. Never, never have I seen such love. If ever a person deserved a shot at revenge, Jesus did. But he didn’t take it. Instead he died for them. How could he do it? I don’t know. But I do know that all of a sudden my wounds seem very painless. My grudges and hard feelings are suddenly childish.
Sometimes I wonder if we don’t see Christ’s love as much in the people he tolerated as in the pain he endured.
Amazing Grace.

Close to home...

Well, I know I said it may, be in chronological order and always about my life, but I felt I had to write about this. Its an issue that I dealt with for years as do many girls in their lifetimes. And I hope a close friend doesn't mind me talking about it, but for safe measures I will not use names.

A childhood friend of mine, who I must say I love dearly, is having trouble with some girls that attend school with her daughter. I feel a strong connection to her daughter. She is in the 3rd grade, as was I when it mostly started. We all know that kids, and not just girls can be mean, but its just part of life and we all have to deal with it, Right? And if you are a female that just means it will be worse the older you get and you can't do anything about it. How do we even agree with this?  Our advice is to ignore it because it will get worse. Yes, ignoring those ignorant and immature people that are apparently very insecure about themselves is right, but when it continues and becomes an everyday issue that makes a child cry. How do we sit there and agree that its just a part of life. Being the target of harrassment and bullying is not a part of anyones life, much less a child's.

Its very sad, because I look back and think about what I went through, and how I would go home crying to my parents about how awful the other girls were teasing me, and talking about me, but they didn't understand and that isn't their fault. They couldn't comprehend how cruel this people were. I look back and I still don't comprehend it, but it is true...some of the children out there are just down right mean. And if you think your child is not capable of being the one who is bullying others, think again. It could be any of our children, just as any of our children could be the target.

I try to sit and here and think of something to tell her that will help her daughter through this. Afterall, this is something that I wanted my blog to do, help others who went through similiar situations as I did. But I find myself stumped, with no answers. Her daughter comes home crying because of what these children say or do. And then to think it gets worse, which we openly admit. The only advice I could come up with, was that she needed to be proud of herself and have confidence, not stoop to their level and fight, but yet stand up for yourself. Its the same advice that my parents gave me so many years ago.(and we all know they were wrong).:) Of course then, I thought it was the dumbest idea ever, but now that I am an adult, I realize that is what we have do. We have to teach our children to be strong, confident indivuduals who can stand up for themselves and what they believe in. I mean really, tell me what good is getting into a fight? Fighting isn't the way to handle this situation. And that doesn't always make everything go away.  Sometimes it  may spark more gossip, teasing and tears. Standing up for yourself and beating someone up are 2 totally different things. Confronting someone who picks on you is right. You tell them to stop and you tell your parents. Confronting someone by hitting them proves nothing, except you are no different then they are when it comes to bullying. You too can be a bully.

I know I am rambling and this is long, but my mind is being flooded right now with so much emotion and thought. I was treated like crap growing up, and I didn't deserve half the crap that was dished out towards me and I pray that my daughter never has to experience it. And yet some think its just a part of life.

This world isn't a utopia, but I will be damned if our children should be bullied by their peers. Its truly a shame that our country has had to create anti-bullying laws to protect our children, though I am glad they are in place. These kids have no idea what life is about, and to think that some have taken their lives because they were bullied. They have it perfect, at least we as parents and adults think so. We look at their world as so easy, I mean afterall, they do have recess, but our grown up world as if its harder, and by this I don't mean working or bills, I mean socializing. But to a child this is their world, they are living in a world where they are picked on, pointed at, talked about, treated with disrespect, and they aren't grown up. They don't know how to make it stop.  And yet we say to them, toughen up, it will only get worse. How unfair is that to our children? And what is more ironic is the "bully's" of  my era are the ones telling them to toughen up, fight for yourself, learn to deal with it and so on. Now that is an eye opener, because apparently they still think its ok, its just a phase of life. And yet I don't.

So as I am sitting here and thinking back on my days of being bullied, I can say that I am glad my parents intervened, even if it didn't work all the time and was embarrassing. As a parent it is our duty to protect our children, to teach them right from wrong, to stand up for themselves, have respect and be a leader. Children go to school to learn and play with friends, they shouldn't be afraid to go or cry after school. If the teacher can't help, go to the principal, if that doesn't work go to the school board and continue up the chain until it does work. It is our responsibility to protect our children.

So who knows if this makes any sense to you, but it really touches me. I know what this little girl is going through, and most of you women will probably agree that you do as well. But we don't handle it by teaching them to fight. Thats a great way to start life after high school, with a juvenile record...so in closing I am saying we have laws to protect our children from the bullies and we should make use of such laws. I know whether Ansley likes it or not I will always be her mother, and be in her business (to a point).

Before most of you knew me...

It is odd the certain aspects of childhood that we remember and and choose to block. When I think back to primary school I have no idea where I was in the second grade. We moved around a lot as I was growing up, my dad was the manager of a mobile homes sales lot, and they would relocate him periodically to get other lots up and running. Not sure if that makes sense, but I guess you could call him the "go to guy".

Some of my first memories are from when we lived in Texas. I remember sitting at the entrance to daycare waiting on my mom to pick me up. I remember graduating from that same daycare, we wore all white, but was it K-4 or K-5, not real sure on that one, but I am thinking K-4. But that is all I remember about the daycare, I don't recall any teachers or classmates. I don't even remember my neighbors name. I remember the first house we lived in. It was really neat because it had a spiral staircase leading to the playroom. I remember I cut my hair or bangs rather with my moms scissors. And then I remember we moved into another house and it was just up the street. I don't recall the actual move but I remember each house. My brother and I used to go fishing in the pond at the front of our neighborhood...hehe, I would drive my dump truck. Yep thats right, no Barbie Jeep for me, I had a red dump truck! I loved it. I was such a tomboy. It was in this house I remember the first and only time I ever hit my dad between the legs. I didn't know any different. And at some point I went to school and rode on a school bus, I remember this because my mom put my hair in pigtails, and everyone pulled them and called me punky bruster. I should have known right then making friends was never going to be easy and it never was.

My first friend there in the neighborhood lived a few doors down. I don't recall her name or what she looked like. I don't remember the games we played or if we played with barbies or dolls. And for the longest time I didn't even recall her. Then for some reason at the age of 21, a memory came back to me, one that I had blocked for many years. The one time I remember playing with that neighbor, we spent the night at her house. Her mom was somewhere else in the house, and we were in the master bedroom with her dad watching a movie. Then I remember we were playing under the covers when her dad took our hands...my next recollection is at the Police department. I don't remember what happened, but I must have told my parents because I remember sitting in the office while the officer held a doll asking me to point at  places he touched and the places he made me touch. Then he told me I did a good job, though I don't remember telling him anything. Next thing I knew, my neighbor was moving away and her dad was gone. I don't know what happened to him. I have no idea if he went to court or not. All I know is what I was told, and that was it was handled. My parents took care of it. And from that moment on, I blocked it all out. Well at least until I was 21. I was sitting on my couch in the little house, and I was talking with a guy friend when all of a sudden the blocked memory flooded my mind. I couldn't believe it, didn't want to believe it, but it was true, it did happen to me. Sometimes I thought maybe this is why I pick the wrong guys, there was something in me. Who knows.

And as I sit here and write I wonder what all I blocked out, and how it affected me through out life. Would I be different if it didn't happen to me? Would my relationships with those that I encountered during my life be any different?

I have accepted what happened, but really, I still have  most of it blocked. I only remember that little bit of information. But I still remember the spiral staircase, my birthday party, getting a bike from Santa, taking my first tylenol pill, my brother and my cousin but no friends. I don't even recognize anyone in pictures. Strange, I suppose or maybe its really normal.

Texas is my earliest memories, but we still moved a lot. Next we loaded up the U Haul and headed to Niceville, Florida...or at least that is where my memory takes me!

Getting Started...again...

I have always wanted to sit down and write a book about my life. I have sat there numerous times trying to think about how it would start, what parts would I include and so forth. I finally decided that I would start a blog about my life and go from there.

I am not saying that my life is perfect or that my life is horrible, I love my life and those who share it with me. However, I did experience aspects of my life that I wouldn’t wish on anyone and sometimes find it hard to believe that yes it really happened. Everyone has pain, heartache, death and so on that occurs in their life, but sometimes I sit and wonder do other girls go through some of the same things that I did. Granted, I am thankful for every step that has gotten me to where I am today, but I must admit I would change some of it if I could, then again who wouldn’t change something about their life?

A little about me…my name is Tara Ashmore Prochaska, and I think everyone should know how to pronounce my first name, that is, if you are from the south. I am named Tara after the plantation in Gone with the Wind. Its funny because during college I fell in love with the Northern accent, and I always knew that I would marry someone from up North…I just didn’t know that he would live in SC his whole life except for his first year, but he does occassionally have a Northern accent, as do his parents…which I have to admit, I was totally blessed in the in law department! I adore my in laws! Nick, my husband and I have two children, a girl, Ansley, and a boy, Adam. That is it for us, no more. Ansley is actually the first girl to be a Prochaska in over 60 years, and yes she is spoiled rotten. She is a little princess, but her horns do help her hallo to stay up. Adam, is about to be 6 months old. He is my baby boy…and I think he will be a momma’s boy. He is at that point where when he sees me if I don’t acknowledge him he gets quite upset. We live in Woodruff, South Carolina, a small town with great schools, hence why we chose this area. We have 2 dogs, Amaretta and Marley, so yes we have a full house.

I hope you enjoy reading my entries, as I do my best to write them. And though some of it may be hard to believe at times, well, the fact of the matter is, it all happened, it is my life-unedited, although the information may not always be in chronological order...I plan to write what comes to mind.