“So Mr. Giant your not so strong now. Being a mouse isn’t all that great, for you at least. (gulp) But for me it’s dinner.”
“Oh thank you thank you, Puss, you have saved us all from the giant.”

The audience cheered and clapped, standing from there seats as I took my bow of fame. Puss in Boots, the ruler of the world and pied piper of giants. How could anyone doubt such a heroic talking cat. Surely no one could. Not on this day, not to this cat, this perfect of purrers, conquer of evil.
“Today on this day, every man rests in peace. Not one worries or hides in fear. For today Puss in Boots came to town.”

The applaud and cheers grew and echoed thought that year. It was second grade or my senior year in lower elementary school. We were the big kids on campus, the rulers of the playground. The younger kids looked up to us and the teachers adored our elderly wisdom. It was a time of superiority and special privileges. For me though, it was more than grand. It was a time when I was myself when everything went right and I felt special in the eyes of everyone around me. That was the year my family went to San Diego where we spent a day each at the Zoo, Wildlife Park and Sea world. That was the year I stared in my class play, Puss in Boots, simply because I had the better purr and meow of the girls. I was no longer the Wicked Witch in Snow White or the Baker’s Wife in Peter Rabbit. I was the hero and center of attention both on and off the stage. I had not one but two boys flock to be with me. All of which would never happen again so beautifully. Nineteen eighty-eight was my year to remember for it remains the one year where all bad things were replaced by new joys and for once there was nothing about myself I hid from.

When I was very young I was outgoing and practically spoiled. Yet once I entered school my sensitivity prevailed allowing myself to be easily influenced by what I was told by others. I had known from a young age that I had a natural and caring heart. I was sensitive because I cared and wanted everyone to see me as the person I knew myself to be. But as it was, not everyone saw my inner self, only the shy, insecure kid I portrayed to the world.
“Daddy?” I asked in a small innocent voice.
“ One second Deborah,” he said glaring intently at the T.V. “Ok what?” He asked slightly annoyed.
“Will you play with me?”
“After the game,” he said, sighing, and returning his gaze to the football game.
“Can I have a hug?” I asked stepping closer, arms reached out, being as cute as I knew how. But he held out his hand, stopping me, watching his team make a winning touchdown.

I left, knowing he cared. Knowing he loved me but that his love was conditional, thinking I didn’t deserve any more love then I had already.

The kids lined up against the backstop. Today was Softball day in P.E. My best friends Seta stood next to me hoping that she would not have to play. I loved soft ball and jitter in excitement as the team captain's picked their players.
“Joe and.... Kelly,” called out Chad giving Joe a high five.
“ Steve and Brynn ,” holard Mike.
“ Mark, ... and how about Lindsey.” Chad replied.

Adam, Sarah, Kim, Jerome, Greg and Carie. Our names were called till there was only three of us left.
“ I call Luke,” said Joe and then looking at both Seta and I said, “ and Seta.”

My name was never called. I was just assumed to be part of the remaining team. Sometimes I wouldn’t allow myself the disappointment. Dad wrote me notes, excusing me from P.E. Those were always the best days. I whined to my teacher and others that were sitting out with me, making up stories of woe as to why I was sitting out today. “ I was walking outside and a bird flew over my head “I looked up but kept walking and I tripped over the sprinkler and sprained my toe. It hurts a lot,” I would add in the end. “I might have even sprained my ankle too.”

My stories changed from week to week. I wanted people to tell me that I wasn’t week like I believed. I wanted to be cheered and praised for a job well done. I wanted to be Puss in Boots in life, not Deborah Wells, the shy kid who can’t do anything well.

The more I craved peoples acceptance the more I lied, believing that if I had the choice I could make people believe in me, the person whom I really wasn’t. I ignored what I knew was right because I had believed I was always wrong. In eighth grade my Lying caught up to me. I used every excuse but the truth as to why I didn’t have an assignment or why I was out “ sick” for so long. I was untrustworthy and none of my teachers really cared to know why.

My friend, Jennifer and I were working on a science essay at the same time one day. We stopped and shared every so often what we had written. She liked what I said better so she changed her’s to match mine. I knew this was cheating but I was so flattered that she, an “ A ” student wanted to copy from me. I didn’t think anything of it till the next day in class when students were grading our papers. The two girls who graded Jennifer’s and mine noticed the almost exact similarity’s and told the teacher who without one moments hesitation blurted across the room, “Debbie did you copy Jennifer’s paper this morning!”
“No,” I said fully offended. But I don’t think she believed me. The one time I actually tell the truth and no one believes me.

The rest of eight grade was a continuation of carefree lie’s. I barely passed my classes but over the summer made a pact to myself that I needed to change.

There are times when blessings become to much to handle, when the “cute curls” twist and twine throughout the day’s events, leaving but a tangle to be unwound. Sometime these tangles were ignored, thinking they would turn to just curls on their own. Sometimes they did, usually they didn’t and the twisting continued. Collectively taking hold of others around it. Causing more harm without ever knowing what hit them. Often the tangles became so bad that when they were finally noticed the thought of unwinding them was unbearable. An attempt would be made to untangle, sometimes with the gentle help of others, but not without the loss of a few precious curls. “They will grow back,” they said, “Just like new.” True as that was, the scars of pain would grow over time. But patients lost it’s meaning one day, and time was not seen as an option. Scissors were involved. The result; one less tangle and one less perfectly golden curl. The war had ended, but the scars remained. Reminding me to start over and do things the right way.

When I crashed into a car while learning to ride a bike one day, I gave up and never learned to ride again. But I can’t give up life. I have to start over, one step at a time until my goal is achieved. When I can stand up and say, “ Today is the day, every man rests in peace. Not one worries or hides in fear. For today Debbie, came to town.” P>

A year ago in my senior english class i was assigned to write a mission statment about all i wanted to be and accoplish in my life time. I didn't give much thought to the assignmet, i figured it was just another one of my teachers weird lessons on "finding ourselves." But after writing the first few lines i discovered that what i was trying to B.S. wasn't B.S. at all. In actuallity it was the full out honest truth and to this day remains to be my true mission in life.

So what does this all mean? Frankly, im not sure. All i know is that if i can be all, do all that my mission statment says than i will have lived the best life i could ever have lived. If i could suceed in this than i know i have lived a life with out regrets and to me thats one of the most important things anyone could ever ask for. But unfortunatly reaching that sucess line is not easy but it's sure worth trying.

Sometimes when I look in the mirror I do not always see myself, the person who I really am. Usually I see the person who has the potential to be who she knows herself to be yet is not because of reasons that maybe known, but are not always acknowledged. I see this as perhaps, the biggest thing that bothers me about myself. Everything else is just details . So what is it that prevents me from being who I know myself to be? In order for me to understand myself I have to think back on my life, not to point fingers but to understand the process I underwent to become who I am today. So that I may see all the things that are positive about myself and all the things that are negative that need improvement. With this knowledge I could begin to break down barriers I have and rebuild myself.

I am beautiful but I don’t always acknowledge it. I sometimes say I am not beautiful, only to get people to tell me I am. I would love to wear the “cute” preppy clothes that a lot of popular girls wear, but I can not because it’s not me. I like to wear what is comfortable and sometimes unusual even though people look at me strangely. I have no objects or material possession that I hold onto. Even my baby blanket that I still sleep with no longer makes me feel that I am at loss without it.

In the American society people are taught to be extroverts, which is great, but those of us who are not are looked down upon and never understood. I take pride in being an introvert I don’t really see how I could be anything else. I'm quite but not shy. I think a lot , about ideas, people, and observations I have. I can spend hours being very content people watching. I sometimes wonder how anyone who talks all the time can learn anything, but I suppose it’s a different kind of learning. I actually love to talk and be engaged in conversations or just laugh and joke around about stupid stuff only my friends would understand. I can usually only be outgoing with my friends and even more so around those who are less outgoing then I am. Yet if I am around my most supportive type of people it is impossible get me to stop laughing and having fun. My kind of people are those that have copious amounts of confidence. Those who would say anything or do anything because they want to. They don’t worry about what others think of them they just have fun being themselves. I look up to these people because they have what I always want: confidence in themselves and a sense of freedom in their lives.

My spiritual self is my most positive aspect. I am kind, and nice (everyone’s favorite word to describe me), caring and warm hearted. I am sensitive to others emotions. I take their feelings of pain and put it on myself. When others are sad, I am sad, when others are happy I am happy. I can relate to what others feel and I feel it myself. I am a good listener, and an in depth conversationalist. I like to say I am patient but half the time I am not. I like to help people, to build relationships with them and share with them my life’s experience. I like to bring people closer to God and challenge them in their lives. God has given me gifts and I see it as His desire that I use them. My focus is always on God. Nothing brings me more joy then knowing I have done something for Him.

I love both my parents very much, especially my dad. I always thought that I had received love from them continuously throughout my life, even though there are events that make me wonder if I was always loved unconditionally. I can remember my dad pushing me away whenever there was a football game on. I only wanted to play but he made it clear that I was not to inter fear. This is the first clear memory I have of being taught a direct definition by my dad. I learned that I am not as important as a football game. My mom, on the other hand, showed me much protective love when I was little but when things in her own life started unraveling she drifted emotionally from my sister and I. The identity script I got from her was that the problem to be solved is more important than the person to be loved. I do not blame my parents for any problems in my life. But I believe their unstable love for me had in some way caused me to develop a fearful attachment style. I consider myself a loving person, but my love is reserved until I am absolutely sure that it is worth giving completely away to someone. I fear that I am unworthy to be loved. I know that there are loving traits about me but it’s difficult for me to understand why I should be loved. I don’t deserve love, I haven’t done anything to deserve it. I know what love looks like, I have seen it in people who love me when I look in their eyes, but I can not accept it. I always look away just as I begin to feel their love for me. I have heard that you can not have love without pain and pain is not something I want right now. Maybe someday I will give in and realize “ If you love until it hurts, then there is no more hurt, only more love.” - Mother Teresa

Although my parents had much to do with who I am today, it seems more likely that I have been mostly formed by other people. Sometimes by my friends, but mostly by acquaintances, peers, and even teachers. The reflected appraisal I received from people in my life, echo in my mind to this day. “You can’t spell.” “You don not play well enough.” “You are not good in math.” “You need help reading.” All these remarks I have heard verbally or seen non-verbally have affected how I think of myself. I know I can not spell well so I don’t even try. I am not good at sports even though I wish I was. I know I do not understand math but I try hard even so. I know I am not a very good reader but I have learned as I compare myself to others, that I do not read any worse then they do. Even so I do not read books, I never think I will enjoy it.

All these reflected appraisals have shaped who I am. I have socially compared myself at times, to my friends, and peers. Up until high School I compared my self to my friends, looking for ways in which I was “better” more socially acceptable then they were. I often put them down in order to build myself up, to feel more acceptable then others. It was not fair nor really helpful to me in the long run. In high school and even now, I use social comparison in a more positive way. I began to realize where my faults were and I looked for people who don’t have those faults. The most influential type of people are those with the confidence I do not have. Being around them builds me up and makes me more outgoing and confident.

If I were to change one thing about myself it would have to be my lack of confidence. If I was confident in myself I would not be concerned about what people think about me. I would not care if they did not like my clothes, my possessions, and my introverted nature. If I had confidence in myself I would not be as afraid to love, or of being loved. If I had confidence, I could sing in public without being nervous. It would be a difficult process to go through, but I believe if I can stick with my plan to build my confidence, I know I could change my life for the better.

The first step I need to make is a promise to myself. This promise simply put is to be committed to my will to change. To not give up if I do not make progress fast enough. Not to think that my effort will go unregarded. I will keep myself reminded of my goal by placing positive notes around my room such as afirmations from my friends, quotes that are encouraging and applicable bible verses. I will also seek to understand what it means to be confident. I can do this in one of two ways or even both. First I can find people, friends who have confidence and spend time with them observing them and asking them how they came to be confident. I will try to understand their thought process and use what I have learned and apply it in my own life. The second way is to read materials about confidence. What it means, how to achieve it and what other sources there are for me to use. Even with all this outside help I have the potential to fail. However failure once does not mean failure twice; therefore I must learn from my mistakes the first time and get it right the second or third, or however many times it takes to reach my goal.

Deciding on a goal may seem easy, but I am more likely to succeed if I set several short and long term goals. Short term goals will make me feel more successful when I have reached them, and will be an encouragement to go onto my next short term goal. Reaching long term goals one step at a time by fulfilling short term goals will make reaching the long term goals seem easier. Long term goals for me would be to walk, talk and know that I can, and do have confidence in all I say. This would be applicable in being able to perform on stage with out nervousness, giving my opinion assuredly to an audience where my opinion is the minority and most importantly of all, I hope I would be able to talk to people I do not know without being worried about what they think of me. Some of the short term goals that would help me achieve these long term goals would be to say in a clear supported voice;. “hi,” “hello,” or “good morning” to everyone I pass by. I could also take classes such as Public Speaking and Performance Seminar to practice communicating to an audience.

At any point in my journey, to reach my goals, I should be able to evaluate my progress in a fair and reasonable way. I should not compare myself to my friends who already have confidence, but to others who also have a lack of confidence. I should always have someone who’s confidence level is both slightly higher and slightly lower than mine so that I can see where I have come from and where I still need to go. I need to constantly support myself with positive reinforcement. If I start to feel like a failure, I must not give in, but remind myself that change is a process. It can not be achieved overnight. I need to stay positive, telling myself I can achieve my goal even if I doubt I can. I will never say I can not or I would not because I know I can and I will.

Last, but not least, I must always surround myself in a positive, supportive climate for change. I can not be around people who put me down or make me feel bad about my efforts. Most of these people are near me now that I am at school but when I go home I must not let their presence bother me. I should instead be with those friends and family who help build my confidence. People to not necessarily avoid, but be cautious around, would be my sister, my mom, and others who are not constantly supportive. These people are good to be around but not at the expense of my confidence, so if at any point these people do not affirm my confidence I should remove myself from the situation and go immediately to those who do affirm me.

My hope is to someday look in the mirror and see me, Deborah Wells, the confident, loving person she has always been. I will no longer be bothered by the fact that I am not who I know myself to be because I will be the person I have yet to acknowledge.