Between Classes

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One day when I was 11 and in 6th grade, everyone was in the hallway switching between classes, and a kid I thought was my friend told me to go kill myself. 

Seven other classmates who were around agreed loudly and high-fived the original guy for saying what they were thinking.

"You're not the same."

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My daughter was born premature. Extremely premature. She weighed 1lb, 3oz, and was not supposed to survive. On top of that, I almost didn't survive either. I was hospitalized for months, I had an emergency C section, and I faced losing my daughter every day after that for months until she was stable enough.

And I went through it all without a comforting hand beside me. 

Throughout it all, I was being abused by my (now ex) husband. 

One day, while waiting for our daughter to be released from surgery, I confronted him. Why was he so cruel to me? Why did I deserve the pain? 

He looked me in the eyes and told me this one thing: "You're not the girl I fell in love with. You're not the same. You were so sweet and happy. And now you're bitter and hateful. The world darkened you, and you're not the same." 

That was why I deserved his abuse, which was the very thing that made me bitter. 

That was why I deserved being left alone to go through this ordeal, which was the very thing that darkened me.

It's been five years, and I now have depression and anxiety. I have a hard time with my relationships. I never know if I can trust the man I'm with, for numerous reasons. 

I'm the girl who apologizes for existing. 

He was right. I'm not the same.

My Nose

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When I was 15, I was unamused by Beyonce's Super Bowl performance, so I posted a picture on Tumblr with a comment about how she was dressed like a hoe or something like that. I don't even know, it's been years, and I don't really have the same mindset anymore. 

A famous blog found it, posted it, and I got thousands of death threats in the course of 2 days. Funnily enough, the death threats weren't what bothered me. When people weren't attacking my statement, they started attacking everything they knew about me. One person told me my nose was huge and ugly. 

Prior to this, I had never seen anything wrong with my nose. It looked like a normal nose to me. Then, it was like, bam. Every day all I've ever been able to see is how big my nose is. How ugly it is. Even four years later, I look back at pictures I took then and notice that they were angled differently because I apparently didn't know what an ugly nose I had. 

Looking back now it's really surprising to me that I still carry that hatred for my nose. It's not crooked or hooked or anything (which is perfectly normal and sometimes beautiful for noses) but I am still, to this day, really self conscious about my nose. That's what stuck with me, I guess.

Captain Morgan

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My mother's ex-husband was an alcoholic. His drink of choice was Captain Morgan mixed with Mountain Dew. I would smell it on him when he came home, I would smell it on him when he screamed at me, and I would smell it on him when he beat me. He would tell me how fat and useless and stupid I was, and I could smell it on his breath. 

To this day, I have trouble accepting compliments, and I can't stand the smell of Captain Morgan.

Amazing

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"You talk too much. No one cares." - My aunt, when I was 8.

"Who sings this? How about you leave it to them?" - My father, when I was 11.

"Your hair doesn't matter. No one is going to be looking at it with those thunder thighs in the picture. You'd be pretty if you'd just stop eating." - Also my dad, when I was 13.

"No one will ever be as amazing as you are." - My husband, frequently. 

"Incessant piece of crap."

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When I was a sophomore I had a horrible, horrible breakup with a guy I dated for a little over a year. He ended up leaving me for the girl he had told me for months was "just a friend". 

After he left, I tried to at least salvage my friendship with him since we had once been very close friends, only to get a reply from his new girlfriend telling me I was an "incessant piece of crap" and that, the universe would be better off if trash like me killed themselves. 

This put me in a really dark place, and it just got worse after my emotional support (my dog I had since I was a toddler) died in my arms, and two puppies I adopted after her death died weeks after their adoption. 

After that, I began to believe what she had told me. I began blaming myself for the deaths of my pets and began wishing I was just dead so no other creature would have to suffer my existence. 

It took a long time and a lot of therapy before I was finally pulled out of the dark place her words had sent me to, but even to this day if something goes wrong her words echo in the back of my mind and linger like a shadow following me.
 

"Only babies cry."

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It all started when I was eight years old. My sister, who is four years older than me, and I had spent the evening arguing over some not so import things. Like most children, we had our sibling rivalries. But this particular argument set my father off, and when I bring the subject up to him now a days he doesn't even remember. But I do. Oh God, how I remember.

My father pulled my sister and me off each other and sent me to my room as punishment. I wasn't angry about his decision, but I was upset and crying.

My sister was definitely the golden child, while I was always the black sheep. Our rooms were next to one another, connected by our closets. After I was sent to my room, I could hear her on the phone with her friend through the thin walls of our connected closest. She was complaining about me, saying some really hurtful things. I vividly remembering sitting under all my hanging clothes, crying about all the horrible things my sister said about me. 

I guess I was really loud because only moments later my father burst into my room and threw open the closest door and began to scream a million things. But one thing he said sticks with me to this day.

"Don't fucking cry. Only babies cry."

This was the day that my now-eleven year journey with depression began. 

Be careful what you say to your children. You could be setting them up on a date with the monsters that live inside their head, waiting to be released from their jail.
 

"I should have pinched your nose..."

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My parents were always physically and emotionally abusive. My father would hit me, and I always knew he didn't like me. My mother was more verbally abusive, but her words hurt me more than any kick, punch, or slap my father could have thrown at me. 

It was a normal school day in 7th grade. School had just let out, and like most school days, I stayed around school as late as I could, trying delay going home. I lost track of time and pushed it a little to far. As soon as I got home, the yelling and screaming from my mom started. 

Then she said to me, "I should have pinched your nose and covered your mouth when you were a baby!" 

Basically she said she regretted not suffocating me.

This has always stuck with me. 
 

"I hope to God I never have a kid like you."

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When I was little, I had a lot of emotional problems and developed PTSD. Because of my anxiety disorder, I was very particular about things that literally didn't matter at all. 

One year on Christmas Eve when I was 6, I decided that the ginger bread house I had made with my uncle and cousin wasn't right, so I wanted to do it over again. This upset my uncle because we had spent hours on it and now I was persistent that we had to start over. 

After arguing with him for a while, I finally stormed off in a tantrum about the situation and went to the living room to cry and vent. A few minutes later he came over to me, and I hoped he would comfort me. Instead, he proceeded to tell me words that would stick with me forever. 

He said, "You acted like a brat!" He sighed and continued with, "and I hope to God I never have a kid like you." 

He was about 30 at the time and had his first child 5 years later. While he's never apologized to me for the incident, his son has problems of his own, and I like to think that he now regrets saying that to me all those years ago. 

Regardless, to this day we don't have much of a relationship, and I generally avoid spending Christmas with my extended family to avoid incidents like this.