Statistically….You Should Fail
By: Shauna Zamarripa
“You’re doomed to fail.”
I remember the first time I heard those words. I imagine (if
you have had to hear them) that you remember hearing them too.
At the time, my ex-husband’s group home made us go through
couple’s counseling. As laughable as that is to me at this point in my life, I
remember our “counselor” telling me that I should statistically be a failure. That
I was doomed to be one.
I will NEVER forget that moment for as long as I live.
I will never forget how I bristled.
How much I wanted to prove that smug, pretentious, mousy little mother fucker wrong.
Ever.
For as long as I live.
Because that was the moment I decided to do just that….prove
that smug, pretentious, pale, complacent, bullshit artist anything but right.
For me, I was 14. I was pregnant with twins, in my freshman
year of high school. Every day, I had droves of cheerleaders and football
players mock me, spit on me when I went to my locker. I went home every day
smelling like chew, pizza and (horrible) human breath. I’d get in the shower,
feeling two lives in me, and I’d stand there for an hour….crying. And I cried
myself to sleep too. Every. Fucking. Night. Because they told me I was doomed
to fail.
And for just a moment, I believed them.
And for just a moment, I believed them.
But every time I did that, I would pick myself up, tell
myself tomorrow was a new day and I trudged the hell on. Because that’s what warriors do.
Eventually, I won. Just like any great general in any war. I
was patient, I was kind, I didn’t take a single prisoner that wasn’t mine to be
had. I went to school every day, to finish out my freshman year. It didn’t
matter how much they mocked me. I didn’t fucking care. It didn’t matter that
the principal and vice principal told me they wanted me out of school because I
was setting a bad example by being pregnant (because I was doomed for failure).
Fuck them. I did what I had to do. And I did it better than anyone else.
I didn’t fail. Even though I was 'doomed' to. (According to
the “experts.”)
Shortly after all of “that”, while working two jobs and
going to high school to finish a year early (which I did, no GED, thank you….I
finished with 27 credits when the minimum was 23)….I got a HUGE win. A win that
showed “them” I would never fail.
There was an essay contest I entered shortly after the twins
were born, when I was just a sophomore. The prize? $500. And out of the
thousands of submissions they received….mine won. And I was in the paper. I was
on the news. I knew….at that point, the proclamation made of me having to fail by
so many people was a falsehood.
And the day I went to make my appearance on the news, their
father and them….took a backseat to what I had just done. But still, I heard
the damn counselor in my head:
“You’re 14. You’re pregnant with twins. You’re with a guy in
a group home who is here because he molested his twin brothers. You’re doomed
to fail.”
And I did.
For a moment.
Except I didn’t. Not forever.
Even though it took me 17 years of a fucked up, façade of a
marriage and “family”, despite how much of a Stepford wife I was by washing
walls in our apartment every two weeks for years, having dinner on the table at
5, pressing and ironing his uniforms, helping him study for every test he ever
had, I NEVER forgot what that mealy little fuck had said to me years ago….that
I should fail. And I never allowed myself to “fail” (not really) because of it.
Now, 20+ years later, I am with a man who adores me, a man
who looks at me every day and sees magic…a man who reminds me that I am magic.
I own a successful company, I have two books on Amazon (more coming), I own
real estate investments, and I can only go up from here. Because if there’s one
thing I know it's that failure should teach us something, but that also getting
pregnant at 14, being a mother at 15 was the BEST “failure” of my life.
Because….statistically, I should fail at life because of
that one thing. Because I chose to be a mom.
But I never did. Not really.
All I got out of “failing” was three amazing human beings
who I love more than the sun loves the moon, even if he dies every night to let
her breathe. All I got out of all that was an experience that made me one tough
as nails little lady who still can love fiercely and completely in the wake of unspeakable horror . All I got out
of “failing” was total, complete and utter success in failure.
So I thank you for telling me all about the statistics….because
without you, I couldn’t have beaten them into a pulp.
And you shouldn’t either. No matter what odds are stacked
against you, no matter how much trauma or hurt or whatever….rise up….rise
above. Because those disgusting little mother fuckers who can’t make it
themselves, don’t want to see you make it either. And this, my darlings, is why
they say you will fail….because they did. So? Show them you can succeed.
Because you will. Because there is no great story that has an easy beginning.
Write your end….your way. I will write it along with you. And, I”ll be your biggest fan while you do.
From one statistic to another, All my love,
Miss Adventures
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