Trying to help.

Growing up, I was always on the bigger side. My grandma would try to "help" motivate me to lose weight by saying, "Boys won't think you're pretty if you're fat."

This started when I was five years old.

"Lazy and useless."

My mother, siblings and I were looking over my report card. I had finally gotten all A's and made the high honor roll! I was ecstatic, and I happily told my mom how proud I was of myself. 

Her reply? "Finally. Seems like that's the only thing you're good for."

I told her that I thought I was a pretty good person, and I listed all the things about myself that I was proud of. 

"Yeah, but you still don't pay any bills and you do nothing for the family," she said. "That makes you lazy and useless." 

I was 14 then. I recently graduated from college, and on my graduation day, that was what kept buzzing around in my head. Lazy and useless. I'm the first in my family to graduate from college. But I still feel lazy and useless. 

"It's rude, inconsiderate, and obnoxious."

"Don't do that. People will judge." - My mom, sparking a lifetime of doubt and anxiety.

"Don't ever invite yourself to people's houses. It's rude, inconsiderate, and obnoxious." - My dad, causing me to constantly be afraid of accidentally inviting myself among friends, and thinking that being obnoxious is the worst social crime I could commit.

"I think you're just bored." - My mom, brushing aside an actually harmful addiction I had in high school, because it might hurt her reputation.

"Hey, I was a jerk before. I just wanted to apologize." - A bully from middle school apologizing to me in high school out of the blue, helping me keep faith that there's always good in humanity.

"Fat girls don't get to wear pretty things."

When I was 8 years old, my sister and I went to my grandfather's house in Arizona. His wife loved my sister and bought her anything she wanted. But when I would even look at something, she would tell me, "Fat girls don't get to wear pretty things."

That was 20 years ago, and to this day I believe that fat girls can't wear pretty things, which is why I wear nothing but sweats and t-shirts. It was just in the last year or so that I started wearing tank tops.

"She'll never be as pretty as you."

I was a pretty awkward middle schooler. I was shy, un-athletic, and didn't have many friends, so I mostly pretended to sleep on the hour long bus rides home. One day in 6th grade I had to "sleep" near the back of the bus where the cool boys from my grade were sitting, flirting with my older sister.

They were complimenting her when one said "Your sister is so ugly. She'll never be as pretty as you." The other one emphatically agreed. My sister just sat there.

It's been 18 years and I can count on one hand the number of times I thought I was pretty.

"It is always the woman's fault."

When I was entering puberty, a man brutalized me. When I told my mother, she said that I'd better get used to it, because in our society, "anytime there's a disagreement between a man and a woman, it is always the woman's fault." 

She listed examples like rape and domestic violence, and literally told me, "the faster you get used to it, the better." I argued with her, but she told me to pay attention every time there was a serious issue in people's relationships to see how it turned out. 

I hung on to her words and swore to myself that I'd find a situation in which this wasn't true, and show her that the world isn't that dark.

I'm nearly 30 now. I'm a domestic abuse survivor from an ex, and I've been raped multiple times in my life. Recovering led to me specializing in rape and domestic violence as a health care professional, thus I see a lot of serious cases and am involved in many court battles. 

To this day, I'm still waiting for that one example when it isn't socially deemed the woman's fault so I can tell my mother that she was wrong.

"No big deal."

I've been sexually assaulted multiple times in my life, but I've only come forward one time. The first time. When I was 13.

I was sexually assaulted at a party by a neighbor's friend. I was so afraid to tell anyone, and kept quiet for two months, until I finally wrote to a close friend about it. My friend accidentally dropped the note it in the hallway and it was discovered by the school social worker. 

The social worker called me into her office, confronted me, and called my mom. My mom told my dad, who told my stepmom.

My mother told me that she'd "been through worse" and that it was "no big deal" and that I "could've ruined his life." 

My stepmother told me "it's all right because we all think he's gay" and "he didn't mean anything by it." 

And what did my father say? Absolutely nothing. 

Because of this, I've stopped coming forward. 

I haven't been able to get my parents' words out of my head, and it's been almost a year and a half.

Trying to "help".

Growing up, I was always a bit heavier than my peers. I never really noticed, though, and never let it get in the way of having fun. 

The first time someone pointed it out was humiliating. It was in second grade gym class. 

The coach allowed certain people to slack off in class, while remaining very strict with a select few. I was in the second group. The coach always told me to work harder and do better, and I never understood why.

When I finally asked, the coach admitted that he was trying to "help" me by making me do more so that I could lose weight. 

Needless to say, it hurt.

"Ugh, too much makeup!"

When I was 16, I started experimenting with makeup. There was some family party I had to go to, and I spent a lot of time getting myself all dolled up for it. When I came downstairs to leave, my twin brother looked at me, made a disgusted face, and said, "Ugh, too much makeup!" Like I was personally offending him and hurting his eyes. 

I still went to the party looking as I did, but I felt really self conscious the whole time. 

And now, more than 20 years later, the entitlement and disgust he expressed in his reaction to my face still sticks with me.

"You lead older men on."

When I was 15, I was stalked, molested, and sexually assaulted by a 46 year old man who my parents were good friends with.

I tried to keep everything hush hush because it was humiliating, but my parents found out and confronted me about it. My father was sobbing and trying to understand what happened. My mother was furious and drilled me with questions. 

The whole scene ended with my dad and me sobbing together while my mom yelled, "I never thought my 15 year old daughter would be a whore. You lead older men on. On purpose!" 

To this day, I struggle to have a relationship with her. It is swept under the rug. We don't speak of it. 

I will always feel betrayed.