My journey through the rocky paths
Written: Summer 2001
Friends, who know me well, can tell you that I was extremely shy, while growing up in elementery school and junior high. Just for the record, only three others are in my senior class, who have known me since we were in kindergarten. This proves how well they should know me. Okay, back to the main topic of discussion...
For the first six and one half years of my life, I was like an only child. I had no brothers or sisters...until my sister Melissa Ann was born, when I was going into the second grade. Still, it did nothing for me, for she was seven years younger than me. Whom would I tell my secrets to? I can admit now that we've grown up, she and I share an unlimited amount of secrets. My point in saying all this is to allow you to understand how I pretty much had no one to talk to, not even my mother. I was held under a small shell, where I had my own little world, and no one could tell me what to do. I was shy, quiet, and most often referred to as the "Good student, who did nothing wrong." And if I did or felt that I did...I was always scared. I had a mind, which told me that I had to be perfect. I was naive and often kept to myself, and I hated the fact that I couldn't stick up for myself or be more extroverted than in. Eventually, I grew out of it, but that part doesn't come until later.
All girls have their mothers to look up to. Ok, not all, but very many often do. They tell their mothers their most intimate secrets and share who their "crushing" on every month. That stage never occurred to me until I reached the seventh grade. I was afraid to be open with feelings I had towards boys I fancied. One day, as my mother and I glanced through my yearbook, she commented on how cute Tyler Houston was. Tyler was a major cutie, whom all the girls in junior high adored. I instantly fell open to my mother. From that point, I wasn't afraid to express anything to her. Of course, there was still the shy me. I hated to be near guys that I liked because I didn't know what to say and would run off whenever they were nearby. Now, I think about how immature I was. If this were three years ago, I would have no life, for I would be buried in a gigantic shell of just Frances. It wasn't until my first year of high school that I became the open Frannie. It was then that someone told me that quiet people were selfish.
I think I've ragged on about my "growing up." It's time I turn back to my point of this story...
I once believed that I had no strength; that I was weak. I felt like I wasn't cool enough to hang with the "popular crowd." Voices in my head would tell me, "You are not strong." I realized that I had looked up to so many people and had to steal strength from them to be able to pick myself up. One day, when I was a sophomore in high school, my best friend's brother died; he was young. I remember going to the hospital the night he was in a coma, and sitting with my friend, laughing, trying to see the brighter sides of things. Then, we cried. I remember being there for her, crying with her, and giving her strength. Wow, a sudden gush of wind must have shoved me to the ground to make me see that I was, for once, being strong for someone else; I was ME. I learned that it was stupid to try to be someone else when the only person you really are is yourself. So, you might as well accept that you are who YOU are and make the best of it. Find what you can in YOURSELF to be your own star. Just relax, and take it easy. Find your niche, and stay with it, because finding somebody else�s isn�t going to help. You can�t use the wrong key to open the wrong door, and if you do, you�ll end up in a place that isn�t your apartment. Why should you about what anybody else thinks, anyway? Are they living your life? Have they been through what you have? No. Everybody has been through their own experiences, and that is what makes us exactly who we are.
I have a friend, who was beautiful, aggressive, straight-forward, and very open-minded towards nearly everything. I admired her so much because she wouldn't take crap from anyone, and she wasn't afraid of confrontation like I was. Because of her, I learned to be more open and aggressive instead of becoming her. Our friends are ways of teaching us things, right? I'm no longer lost in this entire identity thing. I'm not Mariah Carey or Cindy Crawford, and I know I'm not Mulan or Drew Barrymore. Who do you think I am? I'm Frannie, a girl who fought with a lot of crap in her life and won. The same Frannie, who beat hundreds of girls in California to compete for the title of Miss Junior America and beat older ladies at an audition for modeling/acting; the same Frannie, who brings a tender smile to her friends, who need laughter, everyday and provides a shoulder for them to cry on. The same Frannie, who stands up for nerds or underclassmen whenever someone tries to start something. Frannie, she who belts out defensive feminism in a class of immature male chauvinists and doesn�t take crap from guys, who give it to her after telling her lies like �I really do love you, babe.� Yes, I AM Frannie, and nobody is going to get in my way because I won�t let them. I�m not weak anymore, and no one needs to tell me who I am because I already know!
All the plastic that has been shown in this world -- anorexic models, actresses with fake breasts, and pathetic actors, who need a script to sound intelligent don't mean anything anymore. What now?
�FranniePooh2002