Distortions

I walked into Capacidad this afternoon with cold hands. I put my backpack down and turned around just in time to hear cries of, "Maria!" (It's been two weeks since I was last there). Amelia is doing her homework, and asks me to help her. I walk over to her table and hardly sit down before something comes out of her mouth:

"Wow. You're skinny."

I freeze for a second. I'm uncomfortable. I make some comment about how I'm wearing a flowing cardigan today and try to change the subject. But Amelia plows on.

"I hope I'm still skinny like you when I'm growed up."

This is just getting worse.

"Are you a dancer?" Not quite sure where this is going, I say that yes, I was a ballet dancer when I was a bit younger.

Amelia matter-of-factly replies, "Of course you were. You WOULD do skinny people things."

Skinny people things? 

(It's worth mentioning that Amelia is just six).

This starts a conversation. I explain that actually, there are all different body types and that anyone can dance. Anyone can play sports. Everyone is beautiful. What matters is how we treat others. Amelia looks skeptical, but gets back to her math. I breathe a sigh of relief. For now.

God help my future kids, because I just don't know what to say sometimes. This is not the first time I've had conversations about weight with children. Another girl at Capacidad asked me a few weeks back to help her do her "exercises" so she "doesn't get fat." She is eight. I explained that it is important to exercise to stay healthy, but that she is perfect just the way she is. Again, she looked skeptical.

This whole episode has me thinking about distortions. Those constant, blaring thoughts that we are "not good enough." And these thoughts don't necessarily have to do with appearance, either. On another day at Capacidad, I ran over to a crying girl on the playground. She turned her splotchy face towards the monkey bars and sputtered, "Andrew got across and I couldn't! I'm not good at ANYTHING!!!"

(Sidenote: Andrew is four years older and two heads taller).

Little girl not being able to get her five-year-old self down the row on monkey bars turned into "I'm not talented enough."

I was of course sympathetic, but once she calmed down I dismissed this as a "juvenile" concern.

Oh, hold it right there, Maria.

You do the same. exact. thing. 

So the monkey bars aren't necessarily an issue for me. I mastered those long ago. But I do have moments of insecurity, and it's just incredible how quickly these thoughts take over.

We all do it. Why can't I be as outgoing as my extraverted roommate? Why does this person (seem to) have it all together and I don't? Why, why, why? The useless guilt. The comparisons.

When this happens, I try to nip it in the bud. I think of my positive qualities. Does that always help in the moment? No. But it's a start.

That's why I was so glad when it was time for "Star of the Day." Each day at Capacidad, a child is chosen and his or her name is written on a large piece of paper. We then gather the rest of the kids together and have them say one nice thing about that person. Today, Devine received a positive poster to take home.

What if you were your own "Star of the Day?" How would life be different?