The only year my sister and I took the same school bus was kindergarten. By next year, she went on to middle school. So for first grade, I took the bus myself.
I don’t remember how, but sometimes I would sit by a much older kid Zach. A good number of grades above me. Again, I don’t remember why but he and I would chat. For the longest time afterward, I couldn’t figure out why an old kid would talk to a first grader, but some mysteries remain unsolved.
Anyways, there was one day where I was talking about you could use stopwatches to trick kids that time stopped. I remember looking up to Zach’s face, and he smirked at the idea. So I went on my merry way to keep talking about it.
And then the weirdest thing happened. Years later passed. Like I started hitting puberty later. My brain just bubbled up the memory. I can’t recall why or the context, but it was suddenly replaying the scene. So I start an inner dialogue, “Why are you showing me this?”
Brain: “That smirk.”
“What about it?”
“Zach was humoring you. That stopwatch idea was the dumbest thing you’ve ever said. I can’t believe you said that out loud. He must of thought you were so dumb. But he was too nice to tell you.”
“Okay…thanks for shitting all over that moment, but why are you talking about this…?”
“Hey. Who else thinks you’re dumb too, but isn’t telling you?”
And at that intersection, I went from the “shy quiet kid” to the “kid who’s quiet because he’s paranoid of saying the wrong thing, and being ostrichsized for it forever.” Every couple years that memory would just surge up into my head. Zach’s smirk just getting distorted and ugly.
Even now, after nine years of professional work, 4 years of college, making friends and relationships — I’m still fighting that feeling. Still forcing myself to speak up in meetings, and to say the ideas in my head out loud. To not doubt my gut instinct without having to triple/quadruple-check if it’s valid.
Ugh.
Dynamic Hypocrisy 