The Thing About Smart:
“Smart” was used on me like a weapon. “Of course you don’t need help! You’re so smart!” If I struggled, if I cried and begged for help, hell, if I acted childlike as a child, it was thrown back at me. “You aren’t trying hard enough! Don’t be lazy! You know better than that! You’re. So. Smart.”
When I knew I was ugly and uncoordinated as a child, they never tried to fix that, just “oh, but you’re smart.” Compliments in class went, “Caroline has a great smile! Johnny, you’re so good at helping your friends! AND YOU. YOU’RE. SO. SMART.” I had, apparently, nothing else to offer but the ability to read and complete busywork quickly and quietly. I had no friends. Everyone else was kind and talented and warm-hearted and pretty, and I. Was. Smart.
Of course, when I burnt out and could no longer constantly Be Smart on command because I had no tools, resources or aid to assist me in subjects that I genuinely couldn’t grasp, like algebra, I wasn’t smart at all, and hadn’t ever learned how to be properly social, or how to dress nicely, so nobody took their time with me then either.
It took being thrown out of the house, moving in with an abuser, scrabbling around in horrible odd jobs with horrible bosses, and frankly, almost dying for somebody to find me and take me in. By that point, I was nothing, convinced I could be nothing, not smart (or I would have succeeded), not pretty (or my ex wouldn’t have been so abusive), just nothing, worthless, friendless, and pointless.
He saw me differently. I was, in his eyes, beautiful. I was smart, and capable. I hadn’t given up, I’d worked those jobs and paid my bills.
He also saw that I had never been taught how to properly do anything. He taught me to clean and take care of my home, got me a haircut, and mani-pedis, found me friends who taught me how to care for my hair, helped me find clothing that didn’t hide me away, but flattered me, encouraged me to obtain the degree I actually wanted. He showed me that I was pretty, and that I could be smart on my own terms, that other people didn’t just get to use my brain and give me torment.
He lets me seek help, seek peace and encouragement. Nothing is put entirely on me, I can ask for help, am ordered to get help, if I feel unsure or overwhelmed. I do not have to fix everything and be quiet. I am still smart, but it no longer is held over my head like the sword of Damocles. I am at peace.
@amysubmits
@stewedbeefforbadboys
