"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.

"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.

"You are not smart or pretty enough."

Growing up, my teachers were the root of my low self-esteem. I was dyslexic, and they would actually make fun of me in front of other students. 

I wanted to try out for a public speaking organization, but as soon as I stood up, one of my teachers told me, "You are not smart or pretty enough to compete in public speaking. You need to go back to your seat and sit quietly while the students who actually have a shot at winning try out. Try losing 10 pounds, learn how to do your makeup and get rid of that lisp then we can talk." 

Everyone laughed including the 2 other teachers in the room, while I was forced to sit in the back of class and wait until tryouts were over. 

When my mom asked how it went, I lied and told here it went well and that I might actually make it. I didn't want her to be sad. I was 11 years old.

"Don't let it get to you."

When I was in middle school, I was the awkward kid who was constantly picked on for things like my name and how I dressed. One day on my walk to class (which always felt like a battlefield because people shot me with teasing words) a group of girls started laughing at me and commenting on my shoes.

Later on in class, one of the most popular guys in school came up to me and said, "You know they're jealous of you because you are ten times prettier than they are." 

At that point I thought I was hallucinating. I couldn't believe that someone like him would even talk to me, let alone compliment me. 

He continued, "Don't let it get to you. One day they'll be begging you to be their friend."

His words honestly changed my entire perspective on myself and the reason I was always called out. 
 

"I wish you had been more observant..."

When I was thirteen, my friend sent me a text telling me that she loved me for everything I've ever done for her, then sent me a voice memo saying, "You were the best person I've ever met, but I wish you had been more observant and noticed my scars. I'm sorry about this, you treated me amazingly well." And then she committed suicide. 

I'm sixteen now, and I can't ever take those words out of my head when I see scars on someone else. To this day, I'm much more observant and open eyed to everyone. 

Those Kinds of Girls

When I was about 12 years old, I was going though a rebellious phase. This meant lots of Anne Sexton poetry, flannel shirts, and awkward, uncertain attempts at trying to establish my individuality. 

One day I was at the mall with my mom, and there was a gaggle of cute, perfect cheerleader types near us. I regarded them disparagingly and said something along the lines of "Ugh, I just don't understand those kinds of girls."

Without missing a beat, my mom looked up at me and said, "Well, those are the kinds of girls that guys marry."

"They won't fit you anyway."

The summer before 8th grade was very difficult for me. I had started to notice that because of my size, people – boys in particular - treated me very different in comparison to girls who were thin. I spent that entire summer binging on saltines and carrots, which resulted in me making myself throw up.

By the time school resumed, I had lost about 50 pounds. My pant size dropped by 3 sizes and I felt absolutely AMAZING. l felt like I was finally a normal teenage girl.

One day my best friend and I were shopping and I found the cutest pair of shorts. They weren’t my size but I really liked the idea of using them as “goal” shorts. 

I gushed to my friend about how perfect they were. She grabbed them out of my hand and looked at the size and said, "Let me try these on. I bet they'll look really good on me, and they won't fit you anyway. They're too small."

Her words rung with condescension, and it was hurtful to hear her say something that I already knew but hoped nobody else thought. 

"The Jungle's back!"

I'm of East Indian/West Indian heritage, and growing up in Canada, I had more body hair than other girls in my class. I was often teased about it and was called hairy, gorilla, nasty and more. I was miserable because I was in middle school and my mother wouldn't let me shave. 

In seventh grade, my family went away for Christmas and my parents decided to extend our vacation by a week. The day I returned to school, I was the first one in homeroom, and was surprised that the few classmates who came in after welcomed me back. One guy came in, smiled brightly and said "Good to have you back!" Seriously, I started doubting my sanity and wondering if I had misjudged everyone all along. 

Then I heard the same kid out in the hallway by the lockers say, "Hey everyone! Guess what? The Jungle's back!" Everyone laughed like crazy as usual. 

I'm now 37 and have married and had kids. But the scars have lasted a lifetime and I still feel ugly and hairy and disgusted with myself, even though I shave and wax. I feel uncomfortable and gross inside my own body. I am withering inside. I know I should just get over it already, but I can't.

"You have too many problems."

When I was about 12, my mom and I were driving to a school event, and I told her I was scared and nervous.

I will never forget her turning around and saying, "You have too many problems. You're always complaining or crying. It would have been easier to have had another boy than you." 

At that time I had bad depression and anxiety that she did not know about, and that still makes me upset to this day.

"You'd fail."

"You could have at least worn wings." - My dad, after my performance as the fairy in Velveteen Rabbit in middle school. 

"You'd fail in the army. Your sister would excel and your brother would even do well, but you're too sensitive. You'd fail." - My dad, after I told him I planned join the army after high school.

"She's only going to college because she has nowhere else to live." - My dad, when I got accepted to my first choice college.

"All right, that's enough kids for now." - My dad, moments after I delivered my second child.

"Hey you, I haven't heard from you in a while." - My dad, recently. 

Wonder why.