It seemed like a good idea at the time. I was headed to visit my neighborhood friend but needed to climb the concrete steps to her front door. Why walk up those stairs when you could hop? On one foot.
I was nine years old and full of energy. Never mind that I had terrible balance; I could fall over just standing in one place on two feet. My mom had even enrolled me in ballet lessons so I could learn to float like a butterfly, or at least learn to stay upright. But none of that was in my head when I started bouncing up those stairs.
Of course I fell. I really didn’t have much of a chance.
When teeth meet concrete, they break. My two front teeth were badly chipped but at first I wasn’t really all that upset. I figured some new teeth would grow in their place. I mean, that had already happened once. But then I learned they were my permanent teeth and this would require a trip to the dentist.
I don’t have much memory of dentist visits before this event. I’m sure they were part of my life but they were unmemorable – just one of those things your parents make you do and you don’t get to vote.
This trip, though, was unforgettable.
It went on forever. Hours? Days? I sat in that chair while the dentist drilled the nerves out of both of those teeth. It was terrifying. It was painful. All I wanted was to escape and go home.
I’ll never forget this visit for another reason, though. When the torture was finally over the dentist gave me a reward for being so courageous. He handed me the most perfect little world globe. It was tiny, fit in the palm of my nine-year old hand, and I loved it at first sight. Crafted of metal and painted in great detail, this miniature world even spun on its own little wire stand. That gift taught me a few things:
- 1) even a dentist named Skinner could have a kind heart;
- 2) good things can come out of bad experiences; and
- 3) I was brave.
Thirty years later, I was living on my own and happily working at a university – until all of a sudden I wasn’t so happy. It started with subtle things, things that made me think surely I had imagined them. But no – the touches, the inuendos, the assertion of power were all very real and very inappropriate. I kept a journal of everything that happened and how I felt about it, asked my boss to shield me from this man who had power over both of us, and then one day it all stopped. I was relieved but also had an awful feeling that maybe his attentions had turned to someone else.
I was right.
A year later a colleague approached me and asked about my experiences with this man. She had been the new victim. We gathered our collective courage and together filed a complaint. That complaint led to an investigation which led to testimony in front of a committee.
It went on forever. Hours? Days? It was terrifying. It was painful. All I wanted was to escape and go home. But I faced that committee, told my story, and shared my journal.
Shortly afterward a small box arrived in the mail. It contained that little metal globe and a note from my mom reminding me how brave I was as a little girl and saying how proud she was of the brave woman I had become.
And my little world kept spinning.
Note to self: You are brave enough to face whatever your world asks of you.