Memoirs Of A Charm School Dropout

         (Introduction)


 Memoirs Of A Charm School Dropout


Go figure, they don’t teach you about rape in Charm school.

I have heard it said that the most important skills you learn in life are the ones you learn in kindergarten. For me, it was Charm School; Crossroads to Charm.  At age 10,  I thought that subjects like grace and poise, walking with books on my head, how to choose an outfit, cleanliness, styling my hair, table manners and even how I carried my voice turned out to be a funny foreshadowing of what was to come. Looking back after knowing what I know now,  the first page to my Crossroads to Charm text book summed up how my life would be…nothing short of ironic.


CrossRoads to Charm textbook, page 1…”Over the last few years you have traveled a bumpy path and a sometimes imaginary world. You lived with goblins and fairies, in palaces and haunted houses. Now that you are older you have come to a crossroads. What is a crossroad? Well, sometimes when you are out in the family car you come to a place where a road crosses the one that you are on. At times, your mother or father has to decide which road to take. there's one to the right…and one to the left. There is a road straight ahead. A decision must be made. In life we also come to crossroads. we must decide which way to go. Now, you have a choice. (Wendy Ward 1969)”


Well, I have definitely had my share of goblins and fairies, lived in or maybe just a few nights stay in the proverbial palaces and haunted houses.  As a child,  my mother and father made necessary decisions that affected the road I was on when a crossroad appeared.  I do believe they always made what they thought would be the best decisions for me based on information they had at the time.  As a young adult,  I too believe I made the best choices given the information I had at the time to navigate my own crossroads.  Some crossroads proved to be more challenging than others, prompting me to seek advice from family, friends and colleagues.  However, the decisions that were made were ultimately all my own, shaping the narrative of my life in ways I could not predict.


Now don’t let your imagination lead you down the wrong yellow brick road, for the most part, the goblins, albeit evil, were few and far between. My tale is about humor, joy, grit, healing, discovering my self-worth while also finding strength in forgiveness in order to make peace with the goblins instead of trying to outrun them.  


Chapter 1 Trauma Bond


Trauma bond, perfect way to sum up my relationship with Mike Curtin.  I met Mike my freshman year of high school.  Mike was what most people would consider an all-American boy.  Cute, smart, funny, well respected, quarterback of the football team, homecoming king and held a prominent position in the popular crowd.  I, on the other hand, did not run with the popular kids. In high school, I wanted to be a part of a team, I tried out for poms, cheer and volleyball and did not make any.  Clearly, I was not very athletic or coordinated but was unaware of how bad I truly was until then.  Back in grade school I didn’t have to try out to make a team. I had been on the cheer squad, softball, basketball and volleyball teams but it never occurred to me how clumsy and awkward I was even though I did usually duck or get out of the way if a ball was headed in my direction.  Nonetheless, I did have a lot of team spirit and was always excited when someone from my team was brave enough to actively try to catch one. I guess I should have seen the writing on the wall when my summertime swim team coaches year after year would give me the trophy for, Best smiling underwater,  at the end of the season swim team banquets.  That sums up my athletic skills.


Thankfully I was self aware enough to know that I could not sing or act so that saved me from the embarrassment of trying out for chorus or theater.  So seeing that I did not have athletic, singing or acting skills, could not play an instrument and was not a stoner or brain, I suppose my stereotype in high school would be, rich kid.  I did not live in the usual demographics of the school at the time and was somewhat of an outcast.  Wearing a new Gucci purse on my first day of school and when asked what I did over the summer, saying that I spent the summer in London probably did not help my cause. In reality, we were not that rich and were probably considered upper middle class but it is all relative when you are 14 years old.  


Mike and I had a class together freshman year and our seats were next to each other since both of our last names started with C.  I was fairly shy at the beginning of freshman year and Mike was very talkative because he was always seeking approval. Being known as the nice guy was very important to him. In class, the more he talked, the more he annoyed me. Since I did not give him the attention he was seeking, he tried even harder to win me over.  He constantly was checking out my clothes and accessories and decided to call me, “the Guc”, because of my Gucci purse. He thought he was so funny. Every time he spoke in class, I couldn’t help  but roll my eyes and would just ignore him.


Football season was in full swing at this point and Mike, being idolized by his fellow classmates, always had a captive audience but especially after game weekends. On Mondays, he would always ask if I saw the game and then one of his admirers would chime in touting whatever amazing play he had. I truly was not impressed and remained uninterested.