I’m happy to be graduating from kindergarten

I’m happy to be graduating from kindergarten

Say it. Just say it. You’re supposed to say it.

The lights are yellow and bright. Umma and appa are sitting in the audience with dozens of parents, but it might as well be thousands. Something is squeezing my chest and a hand muffles my mouth as eyes focus on me, waiting to make them proud.

Say it. I’m happy to be graduating from kindergarten. Say it.

Silently, my hand reaches out to accept the rolled up paper tied with a neat ribbon held out to me. I open my mouth, but the words won’t come out. Do I smile? Do I look at the audience? I don’t know. My mind blocks it all out and I’m back. Sitting. With the other kids.

I wanted to say it. I really really did. Did anyone believe me?

What’s wrong with me? Everyone else said it. Why couldn’t I? Just 7 words.

We practiced for weeks leading up to graduation. Was I able to say it once? I don’t remember, but I don’t think so.

Humiliation, frustration, and shame. I don’t know the words yet, but I feel them as I watch all the other kids make the grown ups proud with those 7 damn words.

I’m now a senior in high school. Tears stream down my face as I slump down at my desk in the corner of the room, shaking after my presentation. What is WRONG with me? Why am I crying??? I’m too embarrassed to look up to see if anyone notices.

I’m very proud of my final English project of high school. Almost 20 years later I still remember feeling delight and joy in writing and making it.

But I have to stand in front of the class and present it. And I’m excited to share, I really am. But I’m standing there and my face is flushing. I’m sweating, but I’m shivering. I’m nervous and on the surface I’m not calm or ready. I open my mouth but no words come out. I’m rambling, so loud, why is my voice so loud? Blaring inside my head while others strain to hear my whisper. My mind white and blank like someone took an eraser and swiped away my words, my voice sucked into a vacuum for no one to hear.

I wanted to share. I really really did. Did anyone believe me?

They ask me a question. I’m saying words — wait what was the question? Shit what am I saying, what’s the point I’m making? I don’t remember what they asked me. Because there’s a chilling freeze rising from deep within me that has nothing to do with the temperature of the room.

A chill, freezing all the words I try to say to answer the question I don’t remember because my teeth are fucking chattering and I can’t have fucking chattering teeth right now.

I’m a new grad now, and I’d arrived 40 minutes early for my interview, so I could sit in my car and calm my nerves while going through a final rehearsal. Just to forget what I wrote down and choke now.

It feels like my one shot, but I miss my chance to blow. It feels like I’m losing the opportunity of a lifetime.

I wanted to answer. I really really did. Did anyone believe me?

“hana, dul, seht…sir yes sir!”

Months go by before I squeak out my first words in my Tae Kwon Do class at 7 years old.

“Julie needs to participate in class more”

Every year, every teacher on my report card.

“I have to give you a B unless you participate in class”

Freshman year in college

I wanted to participate. I really really did. Did anyone believe me?

Would it have made a difference?

Note 1:

Though not directly design related, I share this story here today to remind me how far I’ve come. That even though I’m not where I imagined I’d be in life or exactly want to be, I won’t give up that easy.

I’ve mostly overcome something that was debilitating for much of my life and I’m proud of that.

There are always obstacles in life, but this one was unique in that it came from within me. It’s lived in me since my earliest memories. It’s overcoming this that helps me to say no to giving up. I won’t have it. Though every job I didn’t get felt like it could be my last opportunity, I’ve discovered that every failure has pushed me further than I ever thought I could go. Sometimes, I try again. Sometimes, I change direction. But always, I keep going.

Note 2:

Here’s a vague shoutout to a song that influenced some of my phrasing.