How embarrassment can work wonders!

Our blog project group has once again changed by one member, but I'm still calling it Blog Project 3.0. The newest member is Darwin Shrugged, a friend of Froggie's. I recently got to know her better through "52 Stories" and I look forward to what she has to say on the upcoming topics.

This week, Darwin Shrugged chose the topic: Write about something special or unique about your growing-up years, good or bad.

First, read what everyone else had to share on this topic:
Darwin Shrugged
Froggie
Moma Rock

I'll admit, I found it challenging to come up with something for this post. I feel like I've talked about everything from my childhood and teen years at one point or another in my blog. Even my trip to England was covered a few years ago. I've decided to take an interesting angle to this and talk about two experiences that gave me some control over my life.

When I was a kid, I used to hold my breath until I passed out. I only did it when I was super upset because I had gotten injured. I didn't know I did it until either the paramedics came to my house or I wound up with people standing over me and staring. My mom's friend would tease me about it whenever we all got together. I brushed that off though and figured it was a thing that parents' friends did. However, I stopped doing it altogether after it happened in the third grade.

During field day, there was some activity where we were playing tag or Capture the Flag. Something along those lines. I bumped noses on accident with a girl from my class. I apparently was so upset about it that I made myself pass out, in front of my third grade class and a few teachers. Of course, it was mega-embarrassing. I didn't even want to tell my parents about it, but they found out anyway and got mad at me for not telling them. After that time, I made sure that whenever I got injured, I would do whatever it took to not pass out. Apparently, I've been successful at it because it hasn't happened since. Even in eighth grade, when I cut my finger in science class and felt light-headed, I managed to keep it together and get myself to the nurse. There were other times I injured myself and felt the exact same way, but I'd just get myself to a place where I would psyche myself into feeling better and move on. It came in handy during another embarrassing moment in high school, thankfully! If anything, willing myself to not pass out has made me tougher. I was able to get epidurals for all three baby deliveries, after all! The only thing I can't handle these days is when my kids bleed. I leave that part to my husband, even when he's had a few too many "L'Chaims" on Sukkot. (For those of you who don't know what that means...it's shots of strong alcohol. And this did happen when our older son fell down the stairs and got a nosebleed.) I'll trade cleaning up poop and vomit to not have to deal with blood!

Another interesting fact about my youth was that I didn't learn how to ride a two-wheeler bicycle until I was almost 13. I was terrified of falling and would ride a bicycle with training wheels. My parents decided that I needed to get over this fear and my dad took it upon himself to teach me how to ride a two-wheeler. He had me start on my sister's bicycle, which was made for little kids. Some guys from my school saw me riding it and made a comment. I was so embarrassed about being seen on a kiddie-bicycle, that I took it upon myself to practice non-stop around our cul-de-sac until I got it right. When I finally felt confident, I got on a bicycle that was more my size. After that, I was riding all over the place. I did manage to fall and cut under my eye, which I got made fun of for pretty easily. (However, I managed not to pass out from that injury either.) Still, it didn't stop me from continuing to ride my bicycle all over the neighborhood. I felt so free on it and got a lot of exercise, as a result. I sometimes wonder  if I would have been so determined to learn how to ride a two-wheeler if those guys hadn't seen me on my sister's bicycle that one evening. I haven't ridden my bicycle in years. The last time was a few months before I first became pregnant. The bicycle has traveled to wherever we have moved, but hasn't been touched. I know my older son is interested in riding a two-wheeler, but also scared. I hope we can help him curb that fear long before he turns 13.

In both situations, embarrassment was a driving force to allow me to take control over a situation that I felt was out of my control before...both in terms of managing my response to pain and managing my fear of falling off something as low to the ground as a bicycle. I just found the correlation interesting. I wouldn't purposely embarrass my children into taking control over a situation, but I sometimes wonder if a social situation will come up that will have an impact on how they manage aspects of their lives. I only hope that they have it easier than I did overall, when it comes to their social status in school.