Awards, Week Thirteen in the New Abnormal

Though award shows don’t hold the same cache as they did in my childhood, this weekend is the Academy Awards. Fraught with politics and self-promotion, the awards have lost some of their shimmer. Yet, while growing up I wrote and rewrote my acceptance speeches. It was my fantasy of ultimate success. If I felt insignificant or hurt, my bright future would prove to the world I was somebody. My bullies would see I was special. That was my secret revenge.

I can tell you that the bullies probably don’t remember me, even though that cruelty is etched in every child who was ever bullied. Children who’ve been bullied often have a significant fantasy life. Mine, like a cliché, was a girl singing show tunes into my brush handle in front of the mirror. Thank goodness for my RCA portable record player. It got me through some rough school years.

Now, I’m ages away from those award-winning dreams. But I do find something meaningful in rewarding ourselves for the wins in our lives. And even if it’s not a public speech…