I was only 17 when I went to college. I very, very immature 17. Brenau was something out of a dream for me; it held such promise and hope. Unfortunately, I was ill equipped to cope with the real world outside of Covington. I could blame my parents for this, but in reality, how were they to know- they had never left our cow town for more than the occasional vacation. I was just not prepared for the journey.
I came from a small town where some families had more than us, and most had less. As long as your jeans didn't come from Patrick's feed and seed, or your shoes from Harper's Five and Dime, you were pretty safe from ridicule. Most people had either known each other since first grade, or they were kin. I went to a private women's college in the foothills of North Georgia. Many of the students came from money. Old money. In Atlanta. Some of the girls had that understated style that comes with having grown up privileged. I don't mean ultra hip designer clothing, I mean very preppy. The pearls were real and probably were a gift for graduation or debutante parties. They may have belonged to great grandmother....... The purses were Gucci, the luggage was Louis Vuitton. The cars were nice and usually a gift from Daddy. Not many had a father that crawled under houses and put antennas on top of houses all day. Not many had mothers that sewed, worked a garden and "put up" food for the winter. Those that did pretended that they didn't.
That didn't make them better than me, just very different. Some of them were spoiled. And some of them were just plain mean. I didn't understand them, and I still really don't. My mistake is this- I let a handful of people there make me feel ashamed to be me. I felt weird and ostracized. Suddenly my quirky style and grand ideas were items of ridicule. Believe me, I did get my share of teasing for it in high school, but I knew who my real friends were and they accepted me- quirks and all. These girls, who I thought were better and smarter than me, found it funny to belittle me, take advantage and, when I was down, kick me. I have been remembering a lot of things lately- things that I had buried deep inside the recesses of my brain. But now that I remember, maybe I can begin to take myself back. I have buried it for 20 years. I could even say it has haunted me and made me less sure of myself, afraid of being laughed at. Now I see it for what it was. They were bullies. Maybe they were jealous of me, maybe they just really didn't like me, but no matter what the reason, they were just plain mean people. I'll bet they have not changed. I hope for their sake, and their children's, they have. But I doubt it.
Would I change things if I could go back? Yeah, who wouldn't? That doesn't mean that I would change my current life- I kinda like the grown up I have become. I have great kids, a husband who loves me and a job I like. I would, however, love to have a conversation with my 17 year old self to say- "This is how it works, little girl. No one can put you down if you don't let them. You have qualities they never will possess- don't let them take that away. Don't let them make you not like YOU."
