You would think that after the first time of abuse you would learn not to take it. To tell someone, to scream or yell, but in my case I didn’t.
It all started when I was in second grade and I met this boy, who eventually I feel in love with. Now mind you, how can a 7 year old fall in love with someone? Well it happened, and it happens to a lot of people like hopeless romantics like me. During this time period I started dating him, but I also had feelings for a girl I knew. I didn’t know that it was bad to hold other girls hands or to kiss them on the cheek. But apparently that made me a Lesbian. And I was mocked, beaten, and made-fun of because of it. So when the boy I was dating, saw me do this he confronted me. I said that I had done it and he slapped me. After a while of being hit I had enough and dumped him.
Later the next year he came back but this time it became worse. My mom at the time was dating her newest boyfriend and they were planning to get married and I lacked the attention that I so badly wanted because I always got my mom’s undivided attention. So I looked for attention elsewhere, and what I found became a dead consequence. There was another boy there who gave me his undivided attention and he was an outcast that everyone made fun of. The year before he would sit behind me all the time telling me that one day he was going to marry me and that when he asked I could not say no.
So when he made a few more friends and started hanging out with them I started up the relationship I had ended the previous year. That’s when we got married at recess and the other boy I like walked me down the aisle like he was my dad. It was really fun, be with good always comes bad. So remember when I said I was kissing this one girl, well she told my ‘Husband’ and he got so mad at me. He tols me to sit on the bench by him and that’s when he started to slowly stick his hand down my pants and the other up my shirt. So I told him to stop and he slapped me, then someone asked me what that mark on my face was from I had to say I fell because everyone would believe that. I am a serous klutz when it comes to walking or anything that means I have to balance. A few days later my best friend tells me that she saw him kissing a fifth grader on the bus. I had enough of his crap, I run up to him and slapped him in his face and screamed ‘It’s over!!!!!’, then sang ‘before he cheats’ by Carrie Underwood. I was such a strange child back then singing country instead of Guns N’ Roses or My Chemical Romance and others.
And for fourth grade I got mono, yes mono. So a word of advice, don’t go kissing girls you don’t know. Or your throat will swell and you will feel like udder poo.
Fifth was a jumble of abuse and hurt. All the girls I thought were my friends beat me up at recess then I fell for the trap by singing ‘ I kissed a girl ‘ by Katy Perry. And at this point of horror I thought ‘Hey nothing can get worse.’ Why do I even think sometimes? And of course things got worse, way worse. My mom started dating a guy who I thought was going to be a wonderful man; he was going to be the dad I never had. But instead I got a child molester, who found it really awesome to take his abuse out on me and his other kids. I would hit me, tell me I was worthless, a stupid Lesbian, a ho. He gave me a knife once and sent me off to my room saying to go kill myself and that no one loves me. I thought that for the longest time too. So I went to my room, held the knife close to my wrist and just rocked myself sing the chorus to ‘Famous last words’ by My Chemical Romance. One night he slipped something in my drink at dinner (I saw him do it) and I drake it. I felt really sleepy afterwards, so I headed off to bed. My door at the place we were renting was really squeaky. I shut it and went to lay down, half-awake I heard him come into my room and saw him take off his belt. I fell asleep and woke up in the morning with my body aching and I didn’t know why. I still can’t say what he did to me because it’s really hard to talk about and hard for me to remember most of it. They say your body blocks out bad memories to protect you, from whatever harmed you. Maybe that’s why its hard for me to think about it, and hard to speak about it. Also the boys were uber sexual and sense my ex was telling everyone I was easy they thought that they could have me. I can’t remember how many times I got followed in the girls bathroom by one of those boys.
In sixth grade I went to middle school which was a totally disaster, kids there tried to shove me into lockers but sense the school is poor and cannot afford normal lockers I was in luck because I was too tall. They called me a stupid Lesbian, that I was Bisexual. Which by the way I am but I prefer girls. They would be really mean to me and beat me up a lot. I would never stand up for myself but I would for others. I got in a lot of fights because some bully was picking on another kid. And after many days of going home with tears in my eyes mom pulled me out and homeschooled me.
For the next school year I went to Catholic school, where I only stay for about a month because again there I was getting bullied. There was this girl there that would always put her hand up my skirt and grab ma’ boobs. I told the principle but she said that it never happened. That’s when I started self-harm, I knew it was wrong but the release I felt was wonderful. I stopped last month, have not done it sense. It was hard to stop because I had been doing it so long that it was an addiction.
So for those of you reading this and are being hurt in the same way are even close to my abuse story just know that it gets better. I have my bad days but I also have good ones to. I know that someday that we will become stronger people, this goes for guys too. The percentage of abuse guys go through is much higher than the girls. Also if you cut or do other things, know that there is help. And that I’m willing to help you to.