Bridget Case
Dear 11-year-old Bridget:
I wish I could tell you that you have a brilliant mind. It might work in the most mysterious ways that people will never understand, but that’s because you are God’s gift. I mean, just look at you now, Bridge. By age 10 you were crowned Miss Junior Dance and selected to perform with multiple ballet companies. You started an elementary school paper all on your own. You wrote about sports at lunch, interviewing all of your classmates. “Why Boys and Girls Like to Play Tag” was your headline. Catchy. And that brilliant mind of yours placed you in the “gifted” student classes - you know, the ones that are crazy competitive and most helicopter parents think are the pathway to Harvard.
But that class of gifted students also caused you the most pain - a pain you won’t forget even at 28-years-old. That’s why you’re sitting behind the backstop at recess. You’re really good at kickball. You practice in the cul-de-sac every day after school and before dance. Most of your time you spend at dance, maybe 5, 6, 7, 8 or more hours a day. You put on your first ballet slippers at the age of 2. It’s your first love. And don’t worry, you’ll make it as a professional, eventually becoming an NFL Cheerleader for the San Diego Chargers. But even at age 11, you sometimes need a breather, and that breath of fresh air was kickball. So, when you get to the playground, it’s gametime. You love the sound of your silver Sketchers popping air off the ball, and squinting into the California sunshine. You fit in here. But when the bell rings, and everyone lines up to return to class, you’re the only one heading back to Ms. D’s classroom. Once again, the “gifted” class. Today’s the day when she lets you pick your own seats - a first for you! You have major anxiety. Your stomach hurts. So Ms. D takes all 13 girls in the class outside, she says:
“Ok girls. We have to figure this out. None of these tables you arranged work. What’s the problem?”
After 30 seconds of silence and insecure glances, one girl responds:
“Well, we all don’t want to sit with Bridget.”
Your heart sinks and you sprint to the restroom. You need a good cry. Ms. D gives them a major talking to and punishment. But what have you done to deserve this? Why don’t any of those girls want to be friends with you?
I wish I could tell you how beautiful and talented you are. By the time you reach high school, you’ll be competing on two National Championship squads and training like it’s your job. You’ll come to realize that growing up a competitive dancer is a huge choice full of sacrifices. You won’t go to high school parties, you won’t have a boyfriend, you won’t even experience your first kiss until after you’ve graduated. One boy will tell you “I like you until you open your mouth” in front of your entire history class. Another group of boys will follow you all the way to the drop-off zone making fun of the way you walk - they say you walk like a duck because of your dancer turnout. They’re quacking and laughing at you. Everyone at school identifies you as “Bridget the dancer,” and that’s fine. Even though you feel like you don’t fit in with all of the beautiful girls at school, you forget about it, because you are driven and you have one goal: to become a Bruin. All you need is to get into UCLA, make the Spirit Squad, and Double Major in Dance and Communications. Then you’ll be happy! You’ll make your dad so proud.
But, that won’t happen. You’ve grown up idolizing John Wooden and smelling the popcorn of old Pauley Pavilion. You spent every Saturday with your dad watching UCLA Football, and experiencing the highs and lows of Bob Toledo. Oh how you loved Bob and his belly. But, you LOVED Maurice Drew. It was like a flash of baby blue lightning, watching the infamous Running Back set records at the Rose Bowl. And a couple years later you’ll turn to the dark side, so enthralled by Reggie Bush and Matt Leinart. Sure you loved that duo, but Vince Young was your MVP. That 2006 National Championship Game replays in your head over and over even as an adult - it was the moment you officially fell in love with football.
And back to that lifelong dream of yours, you won’t live it out in Westwood. Instead, you’ll attend the University of Oregon to mesh your passions of dance and football. You’ll become a Division 1 Cheerleader with what at the time was the most infamous college cheer program in the country. In 2010, the Oregon Ducks went undefeated under Chip Kelly and you cheered in the National Championship vs Auburn. IS THIS EVEN REAL!? You’re Ducks won’t win, it’ll be close, but you’ll have your shot to give Cam Newton a big snuff and stink eye before he heads into the locker room.
That season is followed by two more BCS Bowl Games, a Rose Bowl and a Fiesta Bowl. Wow, you get so lucky! And your parents make it to almost every game. Soon enough you become one of the most well-liked girls at school. You’re a cheerleader, of course!
And then there’s the rest of them:
“You’re a dumb cheerleader.“
“You’re not an athlete.“
“You’re too skinny, you’re probably anorexic.“
“Your legs are too wide, you need to thin them out.“
“You’re just a pretty face.“
“You’re ugly.“
“You’re fake.“
“You’re crazy.“
I wish I could tell you life gets easier. Your life will be filled with people who call you crazy because they don’t understand you. When you’re a junior in high school, you’ll be served with a severe depression diagnosis, along with anxiety. You’ll develop a binge eating disorder. It’s pretty normal for adolescents to experience depression at some point, but you don’t know that. But what’s not normal is experiencing it for months, years, or decades at a time. That’s the difference between clinical depressive disorders and “being depressed”. You’ll learn this, and feel completely alone for many years. And you handle this with food.
Depression doesn’t mean you have to be sad about anything. Most days you will cry, just because. You’ll have no reason. You won’t be upset. You can’t control your body’s reaction to what is happening inside you. Dance is the only thing that brings you some joy, but you develop an auto-immune disorder that puts you out for a year-and-a-half. You collapse in the middle of a competition, get pulled off the floor by a medic, and have a pretty embarrassing convulsion. It’s brutal. The same thing happens at your Junior Prom - you barely make it inside the Ocean Institute before your principal has to call the ambulance. You won’t even attempt to go to a dance your senior year. No guy will ask you anyway. You don’t think you’re pretty enough to be asked by anyone other than a family friend.
You’ll feel so hopeless, you make a routine out of driving down to the Mexico border and wanting to leave the country. Thank you sweet Jesus to your superhero parents, they will never give up on you. It will take about two years to get your hormones balanced out on medications. Medication will save your life. You’ve figured it out right?
No.
Your college cheerleading coach will pull you aside at your first bonding retreat as a freshman to ask if you are on drugs. You, Bridget Case, the innocent girl who didn’t even drink. She’ll accuse you of being high because you’re having too much fun. There’s music playing, and she can’t understand how you’re dancing so energetically. And it doesn’t stop there. She’ll bully you during your four years at Oregon. She’ll tell girls on the squad to “stay away from Bridget” because you are a “bad influence”. You’ll be pulled into her office multiple times for things you don’t do. But the most ironic part? She’ll send response emails to potential tryout candidates explaining that “Bridget Case is the epitome of an Oregon Cheerleader and represents the university as an ambassador, inside and out”. Yeah, classmates will show you the letters.
Buck up. You’ll be bullied. Pretty badly by a teammate, too. But you’ll learn to brush it off, because you begin to know your worth. You discover how talented you are. You know that everytime they call you “crazy” they just don’t want to understand you. And that drives them nuts. This is when your binge eating hits an all time high. It’s the only way you can handle the social pressure, along with trying to stay skinny for game day - you eat healthy before a game and hydrate, then binge uncontrollably for days afterwards and whenever anyway says anything hurtful. Everytime you make yourself sick. You’ll hide the evidence (mostly pizza boxes) under your bed.
I wish I could tell you that by 28, you have life figured out. Of course you hit the jackpot becoming a professional cheerleader as a San Diego Charger Girl, but the glory won’t last long. Once you retire, you’ll lose most of your “friends”. It’s tough to swallow. The ones who wanted tickets on the 50-yard line or autographed calendars and the ones who used your relationship as a status symbol. Once retirement hits, poof, so long popularity. You go from being one of the most well-known students on a huge college campus, able to get into any San Diego club by name, to feeling afraid to ask anyone to get a cup of coffee. This will be your wakeup call.
I wish I could tell you it’s everyone else’s fault. Sure, you won’t be treated with respect by a majority of your peers, but you eventually take responsibility for your part in that. Teammates, friends, and boys will solve all of your problems right? You will be so wrong.
It’s not until you fall in love with yourself Bridget that you find happiness and get a handle on your mental health. Happiness is a choice. Health is a choice, and this is when you’ll make a decision to stop binging uncontrollably. You’ll learn what it means to be hungry for the first time when you are 24-years-old. You’ll work hard everyday to wake up, begin your morning with gratitude, and thank God for delivering you to this earth. You’re here for a purpose, not to be perfect. I mean, how boring would life be if we were all the same??
I wish I could tell you that you won’t be a failure. You will fail, and fall hard. But you will develop into an extremely resilient and kind woman who inspires others to find strength. You’ll become a talented journalist and launch your own business, all while learning to love yourself. You’ll find peace. You might not be dancing, but your heart has got a crazy kind of rhythm like no other - and that’s what makes you special.