Marcel the Shell With Shoes On

Directed by Dean Fleischer-Camp
Voiced by Jenny Slate
Written by Jenny & Dean

It’s really hard to avoid superficiality. I’ve been thinking a lot about the prospect of being at a healthy weight again. I know I’ll never have the 16 year old body I once had. 10 years have passed and my body has changed drastically. There are those things I can control (diet and exercise) and there are the things I can’t control, like the scars left on my skin. Even if/when I lose weight, the scars will still be there. I can choose to hate them or I can see them as a reminder of a challenging, yet rewarding phase of my life. I look back on this time with a foggy memory – as if I had some sort of confused-goggles on. I don’t feel angry and I don’t regret it. It was all worth it in the end.

I was 18 years old when I took a pregnancy test in my parents house, my boyfriend waiting outside the bathroom door. We were home alone, something we’d only recently been given permission to do. After all, we were children. We grew up together. He was my childhood “boyfriend” and we started officially dating when I was 16 years old. We’d had a pretty rough relationship up until this point. Very passion-filled during the good times and the bad. Lots of love, some unnecessary guilt, many fights and not enough space to breath. I came out of the bathroom crying, showing him the two red lines. We went to the hospital to get a blood test and they confirmed the pregnancy. There wasn’t a second thought about keeping the baby. Even if we’d given ourselves the choice, we would have never chosen the alternative.

We were raised that marriage was necessary in this situation, so we followed suit and planned a (shot gun) winter wedding in under 3 months. After we were married, we couldn’t afford to move out on our own, so we lived at my dad’s house. My time consisted of cleaning, crying, doctor’s appointments, enjoying the feeling of something growing inside of me, morning sickness, organizing, setting up the baby’s room, sewing, watching movies, and working temp jobs off and on. My husband spent his time in fire school and working night shift in the critical care unit at a hospital. He’d had his mind set on becoming a firefighter since he was a kid. He worked very hard to get there, too, which left very little time for him to be home. The relationship continued in the direction it had been heading, which wasn’t a good place. We grew further and further apart, putting up walls and building resentment. When I look back on it now, I see that we got married before we had even grown into ourselves. The choice wasn’t there. As I said before, we were just “following suit”. As time passed, we were becoming two totally different people who didn’t fit together. At such a young age, we simply didn’t know how to react to that. The outcome was a lot of hurtful words and actions that couldn’t be erased.

On June 9, 2003 at around 8am, we arrived at Alta Bates Medical Center in Berkeley, where I was induced into labor. Two and a half hours later and – due to the short labor – without the option of an epidural, I gave birth to an 8 lb, 5 oz healthy little girl. The pain was extremely intense, but I look back on that day with very positive feelings. I was proud of myself and overjoyed to finally meet my daughter, Katie Sue.

When Katie was about 6 months old, we moved into our first apartment. After a very rocky year or so, we separated for a few months. Then in an effort to try to “make things work”, we moved back into a house together. We did have some good times as a family (these will always be treasured memories) but as time passed, the bad started to outweigh the good. It wasn’t a healthy place to be. In June 2005, I decided the best thing was to move out. Our divorce finalized in November 2006.

I can honestly say, I’m glad we gave it a shot. I would’ve always wondered if it would have worked and I’m glad I have my answer. He’s a very special person to me, even now. I talk to him often and we share our lives with each other. I know he cares about me and I care about him deeply. He’s family. He’s just not the man for me.

(He did end up getting his dream job as a Firefighter/Paramedic. I’m very proud of him and I know Katie is too!)

Fast forward a few years. Katie is 7 now. She’s a beautiful, creative, independent, outgoing and loving little girl. Finding the words to describe the love I have for her is impossible. I’ve tried. I don’t have the guy I married or the body I had at the age of 16, but I do have Katie! Something I would never have had if I didn’t push through this time of my life. It was worth the pain, frustration, sadness and scars because the happiness she brings me outweighs all of it.

Katie’s dad is a firefighter. The other day, when I was dropping her off, we stole his turnouts and took over his backyard for a few minutes. LOOK HOW CUTE SHE IS! Gahhhhh… I love her.

Like father, like daughter. (But mostly, she’s like mom.)

My daughter is totally cute.

Photos by Angie Warren.

Last weekend was the Outside Lands Music Festival.

I love my friends.

I love Thom Yorke. [despite the claustrophobia and technical difficulties]

I love Katie. Seeing other kids at this festival made me want to start taking Katie to concerts.

“Hurry and get dressed cause grammy’s coming to take us shopping.”

Yes, that is a firefighter t-shirt and a straight-out-of-the-eighties Baby Guess skirt (one of my thrift store finds). I’m kind of thinking I should have her pick out my outfits every day. This cute girl will have boys lining up.

I left the car in the forest and climbed down a cliff, scraping up my shins and feet. At the bottom was a large, open riverbed surrounded by trees. There was happiness in the freedom and perfect company. I found a rock.

If I had known it was a wishing rock, I would have used it in fear of losing something I love.

Last night, I read a book to Katie.
Page 7 read…

Then again,
you might find a rock
with a stripe running
all the way around it.
Trace the line
with your finger–
it must circle all the way.
You have
a wishing rock,
and you whisper
what you want
before you throw it.

I should have thrown it. Instead, I brought it home to remind me.