Numbers and other such nonsense

*Warning: mention of suicide/self-image

Numbers and other such nonsense

I am sitting on an orange pile rug in my typical W shaped style. Long blond pony tails brushing against the shoulders of my green and pink tank. It’s a warm spring afternoon, late in the school year. First grade is ending. It had taken me until the end of Kindergarten to learn to tie my shoes. Now the task at hand is to count every one of the pennies surrounding me. Once again my dad asks me, “How many pennies do you think are here?”

His blue eyes twinkle as he sits beside me, his back leaning against the brown and gold floral sofa. He smiles encouraging me to respond. I know he thinks I know the answer.

“Twenty twelve?” I whisper.

He takes a deep breath and tells me. Start counting them. One at a time. 

And so we start to count, “One, two, three…”

This is my memory of how I learned to count to 100. By counting pennies with my dad on the living room floor. Those brown copper pennies, my dad, and me. 

Numbers have always given me angst. It seems that was only the beginning of my struggle with school and numbers. The numbers in math class were never the right answers. I was always on the wrong page number. The numbers on my report cards and tests and examinations were never the right ones. 

Then other numbers came into my life. Girls were growing and boys were noticing. Popularity was spreading and I was left behind. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I was a late bloomer too.” I didn’t want to be a flat-chested nobody. I wanted to be one of the girls who counted out the days of the month until she had to carry a purse. I wanted to be one of those girls that the boys asked for their phone number. Again the numbers game beat me.

It was my senior year of high school that I first remember telling this particular lie. It was a combination of feeling embarrassed for myself but mostly wanting the other girl to not feel so bad about herself. I have no idea to this day if this logic even works. I actually lied about my weight. When the friend asked me how much I weighed, I told her a much larger number than I really was. She was incredulous. I then tried to convince her that everyone carries weight differently and that she and I did really weigh the same amount within a few pounds. Rereading this paragraph pains me. This is my first time admitting that I did this and it is absurd. 

What is more ridiculous is that I still do this. I still lie about my numbers. I lie when my children ask. I lie when my husband asks. I lie when anyone asks. I always tell people that I weigh way more than I do. 

It’s all about the numbers. If I could give one gift to you, it would be to take away all the numbers in the world. Numbers would be gone.

Are you healthy? Are you well? Great. That is all the news we need.

Are you hungry? Are you thirsty? Pull up a chair, let’s share a meal.

Those numbers on your report card? In a few years, once graduation is in the rearview mirror, those numbers won’t matter. Did you survive high school? That’s what is important. 

Surviving and thriving. Please don’t let the numbers get you down.

Over a million deaths from COVID. Now they are talking about the rising deaths from the flu. The news is all about the mental health damage that the pandemic has caused to our children. I know. I don’t need the news to tell me this. I have lived it and seen it first hand with my own children. I don’t need the numbers to tell me.

My own daughter spent 24 hours on suicide watch. I now spend 24 hours a day, seven days a week on suicide watch. I thought the hospital part was the scariest moment of my life. That’s nothing compared to the feeling I have each and every morning. I wake each day anxious to talk to her, see her face, touch her, make sure she is still here, alive and breathing. When someone you made thinks about dying, you cling like she is the last life saver on the Titanic. 

Every night I always pray that my children will grow to be wise, wonderful, and beautiful. And independent. I started to throw that one in there. For well over twenty years, close to twenty five years now. I have said the same prayer. I never gave much thought to the fact that with each passing day, each year, every birthday celebration they were growing older. Each time we added an extra candle to the birthday cake, my children were growing into those wise, wonderful, beautiful, and independent people. Again, the numbers have foiled me. The days passed all too quickly. The years are a blur.

On a recent trip to the doctor’s office, my oldest child accompanied me. Numbers came up multiple times: she had recently applied for a credit card. We talked about the credit limit and paying it off each month to avoid interest fees. And that led to my asking her if there was an annual fee. I also mentioned that her checks that had come way back when she first opened her bank account were stashed away in a basket at home. She called me out on the fact that no one writes checks anymore. (I write checks; I must be no one).

Numbers came up on the GPS as I thought we needed to get off the highway at Exit 18 and it turned out that we needed to get off at Exit 19. Thank God we used the GPS as my old brain cells aren’t what they used to be. I do still write checks, you know.

Numbers came up at breakfast as I tried to calculate the tip. “$25 plus $6 equals $34, right?” I asked my daughter. You can roll your eyes just like she did. It’s okay. I am used to it by now.

Then the ultimate numbers came up at the doctor’s office. “Why do they have to weigh you at every doctor’s appointment? It’s weight shaming. This is just going to set my sister off, you know.”

It wasn’t going to just set my other two children off, it set all three of my children off. I don’t know why. I wish I knew why. All of my children are perfect. They are all healthy. They are all beautiful. When I ask my daughter why she focuses on the weight she tells me it is a normal teenage girl thing. I tell her I wish it wasn’t so. Her dad and I never made that a main focus. Ever. We didn’t even have a scale in the main bathroom. (My husband had one that never worked as he always struggled with his weight and always talked about going on a diet and wanting to lose weight and exercise more; but he never did). We always tell our children how beautiful and wonderful they are. In other words, the focus has never been on the physical appearance or weight. Ever. 

Our kitchen was filled with fruits and vegetables. I am a vegetarian, so meals always had loads of vegetables. I couldn’t keep up at times with how much fruit everyone would be eating. I also have the baking gene. Fairly often fresh baked chocolate chip cookies would be sitting on the kitchen island also. The cookies followed the same rule as the fruits and vegetables, eat as many as you want as taste best when they are fresh. 

So I don’t understand why my children have this worry about their numbers. If this will be a reason for them to not see a doctor then the scale needs to be taken away. Stop taking weights. No one needs to know the number. 

Afterall, it is just a number.

If I have learned one thing in life it is this. No matter how hard or how long you work, there is always more hard work to do. There are always going to be 24 hours in a day and 7 days in a week. The days pass very quickly and the years go even faster. People come and go. Friends will enter your life. Some will last, others will be there for as long as you need them and then fall away. Family you are stuck with. And family will always love you. Always. No matter what. You can call them anytime. You can trust them and count on them. 

Work will never go away and you will never make “enough” money. You will always think you can make more. That “extra” money that you hear some people talk about doesn’t exist. 

Remember, it is just a number.

Getting into college can be a numbers game. You need to write the essays and meet the deadlines. That is true. After that, it is out of your hands. Once you have done your best, it is a lottery. Will your application stand out from the crowd? It’s all about the numbers. And now it is a waiting game. Your portfolio has been submitted. Your letters of recommendation are mailed. And your transcript with all of your grades has been sent.

Remember, it is just a number.

And so, if I had just one gift to give to my children, it would be not to give, but to take. 

I would take away the worry. I would take away the numbers.