learning to wear all my colors in a black and white world

By Utah Royals FC Midfielder Mandy Laddish

By Real Salt Lake

June 26^th, 2019

Afraid: Feeling fear or anxiety; Frightened; Worried that something undesirable will occur or be done.

For much of my childhood I lived in constant fear the “undesirable” would occur, I was the sensitive child masquerading as if I wasn’t.

I played tough on the field and felt it was important to be tough in the real world. When I was 3 years old I would walk around saying “I tough” to anyone that would listen. After all, the best athletes are, right?

It’s important for me to point out that despite the fears I dealt with, I enjoyed so much of my youth and I experienced so much love and support from friends and family through those years. This story and the feelings I had during this time were just a small piece of my puzzle and it’s because of their love and support that I can tell this story without fear.

However, even with love and support, as a child that feeling of fear still crept its way into my life, not because of how I was treated, but because I let the outside world and social standards dictate my self-worth through constant comparison and a strong desire to please others. Essentially I left the door wide open and let fear walk right into my life.

learning to wear all my colors in a black and white world

It was a fear that I would be less than what society had deemed worthy, fear that the people around me would reject me and the things I enjoyed, and fear that there was a truth living inside me that would one day seep out, regardless of how hard I tried to stop it.

It’s a feeling and emotion that as an adult I can see plain as day and yet in those moments it presented itself in faint sounds and small flutters that I was able to brush off in passing.

I grew up in American suburbia -- Cookie-cutter households with minimal greenery lined the streets of my hometown. Those homes were filled with the perfect models of the American dream, quintessential families with boys who played football and girls who cheered from the sidelines.

Within those city limits the expectation of attending church was an unspoken rule and as a result it became part of my norm.

I guess that might be the most ironic part, that for so long I sat in churches and prayed not to be different and yet everyday I woke up the exact same.

Looking back it’s difficult to pinpoint when I started to realize parts of me were unlike that of my classmates. Perhaps it was when one day I looked around and all the girls were wearing dresses while I was wearing backwards visors and soccer shorts, my fingernails laden with dirt. Maybe it was when all my friends starting developing crushes on guys, and I found myself jealous that the boys got their attention instead of me, or even when I caught myself catching glimpses of other girls and wondering what it would be like to kiss them.

Regardless of when it was or why it was, the one common thread throughout all of it was my lack of confidence and my overwhelming desire to fit in. I never understood what was so great about boys other than beating them in races and making them squirm to get “beat by a girl.” But I played along and acted like I had crushes on boys that I didn’t really like that much.

When I think back on that time in my life I can’t help but think of how good I got at fitting in, of putting on this facade to be who I thought everyone wanted me to be.

There was never a moment in which someone told me I had to look or act a certain way, it was more of a multitude of comments and statements made by people around me and things I heard at church or saw on TV that influenced my way of thinking.

Malicious slander was surely never the goal with their remarks, but it’s proof that someone’s psyche can be completely altered and depleted unintentionally.

Suddenly, without realizing it, I started to become a person I didn’t recognize, cautious of how I dress and presented myself. The facade I created became a part of me, and it no longer took any conscious effort. I’d convinced myself I wasn’t different from the others. But instead of feeling different, I felt a massive cloud of emptiness and sadness lurking in the depths of my mind.

This became my new normal.

As I moved away from home and transitioned into my college years my lack of confidence had manifested itself in such a deep way that I remained stuck in this rut, and it was in those four years at Notre Dame that I realized I needed to find my own truth. I was bored and unhappy with who I’d let myself become.

I searched for myself in ways typical of any college kid. I made friends with interesting and open people, partied too hard and took on strong feminist and liberal viewpoints.

Uncomfortable and cramped by the crucifix hanging in every room at Notre Dame, I began to feel oppressed by the church. I started to rebel and carry myself in ways frowned upon by the nuns and priests that walked the corridors.

Although I knew I was getting closer to who I was, I still felt a deep sadness. Something was missing in my life. I searched for this missing piece in relationships with some great and not so great boys. I wanted to connect with them emotionally. I desperately wanted them to heal the wounds of self-loathing that I cut into my skin and bandage them up with their love and affection. But I was always left unsatisfied.

That is until I met Becca.

When I met her it was like my whole world opened up and my entire perspective shifted.

For the first time in my entire life I was free from the emptiness that lurked around every corner of my mind. As a result I felt myself slowly developing a new found empathy and love for myself.

Neither of us planned on falling in love, I was caught up in being the “straight girl” and she was entirely her own person and so self-assured, how would those two things mix?

We became best friends, and like most relationships there was a point, standing on the edge of will they, or won't they, and it was up to me to make the decision.

And so I jumped and there was no looking back.

Still, I was not sure what this feeling meant for me, I had dated guys my entire life and I was in long-term healthy relationships, but deep down I knew this is what had always been missing. This was the truth I was denying myself from feeling.

From that moment it was like a slow spiral effect, I began gaining more confidence in who I was and who I liked. I leaned in to my emotions and allowed myself to be free from the rhetoric of ridicule and fear that had permeated the deepest depths of my mind.

I had always been my own worst critic, which is perhaps why my self-esteem was so low, I never let myself be okay with who I was. Becca taught me to love myself and to welcome every part of my soul that made me me.

Now all these years later what I wouldn’t give to tell that scared little girl living in Kansas City what it would be like when she finally started embracing herself, to be able to tell her that nothing and no one was going to hurt her, to be able to show her just how much her world would open. I wish I could tell her that if people love you they will stick around and support every part of you, even if they’re different.

Looking back I was so scared that if the people in my life found out the truth about me they would be disappointed, or worse, it would be revealed that I loved them more than they loved me. It’s amazing just how wrong I was and it’s on me that I never trusted them with my secrets.

But I was rooted in fear, because somewhere along the way that little girl heard a statement or a comment that made me think that I was less than worthy, that who I was would never be good enough.

Now that I know just how far from the truth I was I want to tell every other girl, just like me, how freeing it can be when you finally allow yourself to be proud of every part of what makes you, you.

It may have taken me 23 years to begin accepting myself, and sure, looking back I wish I had done it sooner, but sometimes we have to live through the fear to get to where we are supposed to be and for that I wouldn’t change a thing.