Ducks in a Row 🦆

 

I'm going down this rabbit hole of thoughts.

I was watching a podcast with Jay Shetty and Mel Robbins, and he was talking about how he still calls teachers who planted seeds in him 20 years ago, just to thank them and tell them how much they meant to him.

That made me think of my CNA teacher. But then he mentioned one of his art teachers, and I paused...because I used to love art too.

I remember my high school art teacher. He really believed in me. He saw something in me that I didn't even see in myself at the time. I just liked art; I didn't think I was that great. However, he spoke life into me anyway.

And not only that, he was protective. He paid attention. He could tell when something wasn't right.

There was this one situation where a guy used to bully me. My teacher noticed something was off with me, and he actually made me call my dad to tell him what happened.

The guy had hit me in my shoulder, and that's really the main reason I say I was bullied—because that's what it looked like for me.

He used to call me a “duck,” which was his way of saying I was ugly. He would make jokes, and I didn’t really know how to stand up for myself or respond. So I would kind of laugh it off... and I think that made him feel comfortable enough to keep going.

Until he put his hands on me. And let me tell you, that punch was hard.

My dad came to the school so fast and wanted to see him. I remember being scared… like what if, after my dad leaves, he comes back and finds me again?

Fast forward years later, I randomly saw that same guy again, and I was still kind of scared. But the crazy part? He tried to flirt with me. Like.. sir, please.

So I don't know...maybe this is part of where my discomfort with men comes from. Even now, I don't really like having male friends. And I'm starting to realize this might be something deeper, something rooted in that experience.

It's a kind of trauma that I'm learning to accept, process, and move forward from. But here's the part that's almost...ironic. My favorite things to collect now are little toy ducks. They make me smile. They bring me joy.

And it's crazyyy, because there was a time when I hated the word “duck.” No matter the context, it would trigger something in me because of what I went through. But now?

It doesn't hold that same power over me anymore; my ducks are in a row!!