Believe in Yourself

When I was a kid, I was made fun of by other kids.  I don’t know what I did to them.  I was always nice to everyone, and I was painfully shy so I kept to myself most of the time.  But for some reason, people found things to laugh at.  They also pulled some horrible pranks on me: once, they locked me in a closet (and to this day, I’m terribly claustrophobic); another time, someone tried to set my long hair on fire.  These weren’t harmless pranks, and they hurt me badly.  For years, I existed as a joke, not a real person with real feelings.

As you can probably guess, my self-esteem was non-existent.  When I was fourteen, I contemplated suicide.  Going to school was traumatic and not fun.  I had no real friends, no one to talk to or to care about me.  I was nothing.  I was worse than nothing. 

I was a freak.

All I wanted was to be accepted.  To be acknowledged as a person and not treated like crap.  I wanted people to look at me and see me, not the girl who’s the butt of jokes or my imperfections.  I was convinced that I’d never find that, that it just wasn’t possible.

Enter Job’s Daughters. 

 

To those who aren’t familiar with it, Job’s Daughters is a youth group for girls age eleven to twenty who are related to a Master Mason.  It’s not heavily religious but religion does play a role.  In it, young girls can learn important life skills such as teamwork, public speaking, and leadership. 

When I was fifteen, my friend, who I’ll call J, was a member and invited me to join.  J was a good friend — and she still is — and I was intrigued by the idea.  Naturally, I was worried about being made fun of, or that no one would like me.  But..something told me to go for it, that it was worth any risks.  J was a nice person, and she wouldn’t lead me wrong.  It would be okay.

It was more than okay.  It changed my life.

Once I joined Job’s Daughters, I automatically had friends.  No one made fun of me; in fact, many of the girls went out of their way to make me feel welcome.  It was something I’d never experienced, this instant acceptance.  It was wonderful.  I had so much fun.  I even found my first boyfriend who was in Demolay, the teenage boy’s group.

I also learned some very important things.  For instance, we were required to speak in front of large groups of people.  Before joining Job’s, I never would have been able to do that.  But because I was among friends, I felt more confident than I ever did.  The more I did public speaking, the easier it became.  I could feel myself changing into someone else, someone with confidence and spirit.  The girl who was hidden in shadows.  The girl I really was, and the woman I would someday become.

Once I got involved, I turned my efforts towards becoming Honored Queen (the President).  It was my dream to stand in the East and preside over the meetings, to lead. To be a role model.  To stand up there and know that I’d not only regained my confidence, but had friends who wanted me up there, friends who believed in me.

The first time I was eligible for elections, I didn’t make it.  I was devastated, but the other girl who’d made it deserved the position.  I couldn’t continue to feel sorry for myself when I acknowledged that fact.  Perhaps she’d been like me, struggling to find acceptance and herself, and she’d succeeded.  Just as I would.  For the first time, I believed that I would do it.  I believed that it was possible.

And I did.  The next time elections rolled around, I was elected.  I was installed as Honored Queen on January 7, 1995.  I was nineteen.  It was the happiest day of my life.  I’d done it.  I’d become a woman who could accomplish anything.  And, best of all, I had confidence, confidence I never dreamed I’d ever have before.  I believed in myself.  And with my friends in Job’s Daughters, nothing would stand in my way.

I would never forget that.  One of my most cherished memories was of this young girl who’d recently joined Job’s.  She was a lot like me — shy, reserved.  We were in a car on our way to a function.  She looked at me and said, “When I grow up, I want to be just like you, Erin.”  No one had ever said anything like that to me.  No one admired me.  No one.  But this girl did.  She thought I was worthy of it.  She wanted to be like me — like me.  It was astounding and wonderful and scary all at once.

That’s when I knew I’d succeeded.  Right there.

I’ll be thirty-five this March, and I have never forgotten the girl I was, or lost sight of my dreams.  Over the years, I’ve accomplished a lot.  But without my time in Job’s, I never would have done it.  I credit Job’s Daughters for not only giving me myself back, but for saving my life.  I would not be the woman I am without those girls, without their friendship, love, and acceptance.  I will never, ever forget them.

I carry these lessons with me even today.  I believed that one day, I would be a published writer.  That my life’s dream would come to fruition.  That something I thought intangible would finally be within my grasp.  I have never wavered on it — I’ve always believed in my ability to make it happen.  It was never a question, but a given.  The question was always when.

And on 12/1/10, I got my answer.  My chapbook, my labor of love, was published through Turtleduck Press.  My first ever published book.  I’d done it.  I’d made it happen.  I made my dream come true.

Turtleduck Press is a lot like Job’s Daughters. Sure, we’re not teenagers or a Masonic youth organization, but we all support each other and accept one another no matter what.  And it is helping me grow in ways I never imagined.  It is a straight path to my dreams, just like Job’s was. 

So, if you ever start doubting yourself, look within.  And believe in yourself.  Believe that anything is possible, because it is.