"You're going to be a failure."

One time my mom took my sister and me to the beach, and she dropped us off while she went to look for parking. Once she had found a parking spot, she texted me to meet her and lead her to the spot where we were sitting. Since it was a particularly crowded day, I had some trouble finding the spot where we'd set up. 

It wasn't long before she started exploding at me, calling me retarded for not being able to find where we were sitting. Even after I started crying, she continued to insult me. The worst thing she said was, "You'll never make it in college because you can't even do the simplest of tasks. You're going to be a failure." 

She never once apologized for how she treated me. 

Now that I'm a freshman in college, I suffer from depression and anxiety because of fear of failing or messing up anything I do. 

Dunce Voice

I was never the best at math, and I didn't quite have a loving home environment (I still don't). 

On day, I brought home an "F" from math class. I already felt low about it; who feels good about failing? My parents (predictably) got upset, but what really stuck with me was my father mocking me. He followed me around the house, into my room, saying in a "dunce" voice, "Duuuuhhh. I'm (my name), I'm smart enough to get Fs. Duuuuuuuuhhh." 

I had already been in tears, but that pushed me over. 

Sadly, that wasn't the first time that my father verbally abused me, and it still happens to this day. But that time really stuck, and it still pierces my heart.
 

Fat Cat

One time in third grade, a girl spat gum on me at recess and said, "No boy will ever like you because you look like a fat cat!"

This has never left me, and I have never liked cats since.
 

"You ain't worth a quarter."

My dad and I get into arguments all the time. He'll get mad at the littlest things and explode. 

His favorite sayings are, "You're worthless" and "You ain't worth a quarter."

Sometimes I start to believe him.
 

"Fat girls don't get boyfriends."

When I was in middle school, my mom told me that I was "a fat girl" and that "fat girls don't have friends, and they certainly don't get boyfriends." 

Small 12 year old me truly took her words to heart and developed a severe case of anorexia due to what she said. I'm now 23, and I have been battling the eating disorder ever since. I also have an intense fear of gaining weight and suffer from extreme depression if I do gain any weight. 
 

"At least they don't beat us."

One day I was complaining to my mother about something that my husband did or didn't do. My mother replied, "We should both be thankful for the husbands we have. At least they don't beat us."

In that moment I realized that that was my mother's goal for me. That I would find a man who wouldn't beat me. It didn't matter if he made me happy, if he helped provide a stable life for our family, or if he helped me grow as a person. All that mattered was that he didn't beat me.

I will never forget the day when I was told that little gem. 
 

"Get a life!"

In the past I've struggled a lot with anxiety, depression, PTSD, and bipolar. Lately I've been struggling with agoraphobia, or the fear of going outside. I've been indoors 90% of the time for a number of years, and I'm trying to work through it now.

I stopped going to public school sophomore year. I can't handle the environment, with timed expectations and feeling like people have their eyes on me when I mess up, so I take classes at home through the school. Every so often I have to go to the high school to do paperwork or something. My anxiety gets to me pretty often, but I try my hardest to relax and keep my head up. Keeping happy is my way of getting back at all the misfortune in my life, even if it's difficult. 

One day as I was getting ready to go to the high school to do some errands, I decided for the first time in forever that I wanted to dress up a little. Feeling confident makes it easier for me to go outside. It makes me feel like if people look at me, they won't judge what they see. 

As I was getting ready to cross the street to go home, someone sped by in a car and screamed at me, "GET A LIFE!" 

I stood and stared at the street for a moment. I felt like a paper thin glass bottle getting dropped on the ground. I wanted to sit down and cry, but I wanted even more desperately to just go back home and be inside. Indoors, nobody would call me names or tell me what to do with my life. 

I wanted to stop that car and shriek into his ears, "Do you know what you've just done to me? Do you know what I am going through? It took every single ounce of my energy to get out of bed today, and you have the audacity to tell me to get a life. I'm trying. I'm TRYING to get a life and I'm TRYING to maintain it. You don't know what it's like to get up with the intentions of going outside, look at the front door for fifteen minutes, undo the deadbolt, and then start crying and go back to bed because people like you make me wish I had never been born. I hope you're happy with yourself. I worked up every last bit of courage I had to walk out the front door today and you shattered it. You took it and threw it in a trash compactor." 

The three words he screamed at me made me feel empty and alone. It kept me wondering what I did wrong. What did I do to deserve that scream? What did I do to make you hate me? Just exist? 

Since then I've been working on going outside more. It isn't as scary now as it was then. I went out all on my own today and applied for a number of jobs. It feels good to smile and look people in the eyes, shake their hands and introduce myself. Even if I don't get the job(s), I'm happy with myself because I tried. 

I have a life. I'm doing all I can with it. With what I've been through in my life, trying and succeeding even at little tasks is more than just "enough." 

I'm excelling in places I never thought I would, and that is what makes me happy.

"Hey, so I'm sorry about the other night."

I can't remember anything about our night together. I just remember waking up in my dorm room, covered in bruises, my lamp on the floor with the shade crushed in, clothes scattered on my floor, and me, alone in my room, knowing that I had not been alone the night before. 

It took me almost 30 minutes to remember the last place I had been: a frat house that I frequented with my friends. We had gone there the night before to play beer pong with brothers at the frat. I had partnered up with a guy I knew, but did not know well. The last thing I could recall was his face hovering over mine in the darkness of my room.

The next day, I did not know what to do. My friends laughed it off as yet another one of my escapades. I was shaken, but managed to get through the day okay. Until I got a message at 2:39 AM the next night from that guy. That guy. It simply said:

"Hey, so I'm sorry about the other night. I was a little more aggressive than I normally am, so I apologize."

My heart raced. I wanted to vomit. I heard a roaring in my ears. 

I still don't know what exactly happened that night. I never asked. I don't really want to know. But I remember the bruises, and I remember the fear. I remember the single, simple apology that said so much and yet told me so little about what happened.

"No one will find that attractive."

My style has always been a bit alternative. Even after having my daughter at 18, I kept my look. Pink and black hair, a tattoo (planned to get more), piercings (also planning for more), the works. I had a dream of becoming an alternative model, which I thought was the epitome of beautiful. When I was 19, I had a set plan. I was going to polish myself up a bit and send in some shots. 

My husband at the time told me I was crazy, and that, "No one's going to want to look at your half naked, post baby body. No one will find that attractive. I find it attractive because I love you." 

That hurt me so bad, I cried myself to sleep that night. 

I eventually divorced that ass, and now, eight years later, I've never been happier.
 

"You're always eating!"

I so clearly remember the day that I started self-hating that it almost hurts to think about.

I had eaten a stupid chocolate bar that my mom had been saving to eat later. It wasn't the first time I'd done this. She walked in to the kitchen and yelled, "What the hell are you eating now?! You're always eating! You're too fat! You need to go on a diet!" 

Now, two years later, I have depression and anxiety, although she (along with the rest of my family) has failed to realize it. Every time I look in a mirror, the only thing running through my head is that stupid comment made by my own mother.

Please think about what you say to your kids. They remember every word you say to them, even when you don't.