"Nobody cares."

When I was in first grade, there was a girl who liked to tease me in a rather simple but hurtful way. I was a very talkative child, but every time I said something, she said to me, "Nobody cares." 

Eventually I stopped being talkative and became a quiet child. Now I am a quiet 20 year old struggling to talk to people, with barely any friends.

To top this all, my parents say I'm a very boring person. They don't believe in mental illnesses or disorders that I could have, so they just tell me to get over myself.

I just honestly think that nobody cares.

"I guess I did screw up minorly."

Ever since I can remember, I had difficulties in school, and I was always really socially awkward. Starting in second grade, I was severely teased for being different. 

My second grade teacher was so supportive and kind, and he advocated that I get tested to find out why I was different from everyone else. But after I was tested, my mother, who I refer to as "Birthgiver" made sure I never found out the results. 

I used to come home in tears, begging to know why I was so different, and she would say things like, "What did you do to them first to make them tease you?" "You're lazy and don't apply yourself." "The only way I can get through to you is by hitting you." "You need to stop being such a baby." 

By high school, I finally just stopped asking why I was different. Stopped telling her in detail about how cruel kids were to me. I just started saying "I'm fine," and, "School was fine."

I started dating someone at age 19, got married and divorced, and didn't speak to my birthgiver for eight years. 

When I finally reached out to her, I hoped that she had realized her faults in our relationship.  Instead of taking accountability for what she did, she just said. "Oh, yeah, I guess I did screw up minorly by not telling you that you have autism."

That has always stuck with me. If I had known I had autism sooner, and she had gotten me some additional help from outside school, maybe I wouldn't have struggled for so long.
 

"If she were smaller, then sure."

As a kid I was always taller and more shapely than everyone else my age.  In 7th grade when all of my little petite friends were getting "boyfriends," one of my friends asked my crush if he liked me. 

His response was, "Oh, she's pretty, but she's just way too big for me to be with. If she were smaller, then sure." 

I have never forgotten that. And now, ten years later, I still have anxiety every time I look into the mirror.

"Why did she get in the car with him?!"

I had a summer internship in college at a summer camp. The boss was terrible to work for and always felt off, and a news story eventually revealed him to be a pervert who had groomed, molested, and raped one of the campers, a 14-year-old girl. He had given her a ride home one day, but instead of taking her home, brought her back to his place where he sexually assaulted her. 

I told my mom about it and her immediate reaction was, "Why did she get in the car with him?!"

This reaction irreversibly changed the way I saw my mother: as the kind of woman who would blame a 14-year-old girl for being raped. 

To this day she still does not understand why I don't want to put that internship on my resume.
 

"Suck your stomach in."

When I was in 5th grade, we took a class trip to Canada. 

While we all walked around a beautiful mansion/ castle, my best friend's mom looked at me and said, "Suck your stomach in. In a year you will lose some inches off, and you won't look as fat."

Do Over

My dad and I never really had that great a relationship. He always thought I was weird, and not what he imagined when he found out he was having a girl. 

At one point in my twenties, I was working three jobs, about to buy a house, owned my car, and was working on a nursing degree. I guess subconsciously I didn't want to be a disappointment anymore. 

One night I came home after a long night shift and was in the bathroom taking off my makeup. I overheard him telling my mom that he wanted to have another baby, because he "wanted a do over."

I don't think he ever knew I heard him or that I was even home, but those words always messed with me, because I never could understand what it was about me that was so bad in his eyes.

"She's YOUR problem now!"

My mother and I have never been close. The older I get, the further apart we grow. She's very ugly towards anybody who is different from her, degrading anyone who is black, homosexual, has tattoos, mental disorders, is poor, addicted, atheist, agnostic, drives the wrong car - the list goes on. I fit into most of those categories, but I live a fully successful and happy life. 

At my wedding three years ago, my husband made a funny remark during our toast about my parents raising a "wild" girl. I laughed because it was cute. Then my mother, in front of everybody, replied, "She's YOUR problem now!" 

That was the only thing she said to either of us during our entire wedding. My husband's remark was teasing in a cute way. My mother's response, dripping with hatred, left the room a dead, awkward silence. 

I wish I could say that her frequent stabbing remarks don't affect me, but I would be lying. I can hardly do anything without hearing her voice inside my head, putting me down and reminding me that I'm just a "problem." 
 

Smart

When I was in school, teachers didn't know about dyslexia, ADHD, or PTSD. They didn't understand my stutter, so I stopped talking, and just did the best I could to keep up and not get noticed by my teachers anymore. 

They did notice. All through my youth I was told I was "stupid," "deliberately acting dumb," and "failing tests on purpose." I was told I would never graduate. I got lumped in with the bad crowd, and wore my "dumbness" with pride. Until I met my 8th grade math teacher. 

Math was always my worst subject. Dyslexia turns timed multiplication tests into an instant panic attack. My former math teachers told me that they let me pass their classes just so they wouldn't have to deal with me again.
 
But this one teacher. He kept me after class and helped me with homework. He walked me through tests so I would slow down enough to finish them. And then one day, out of the blue, he told me I was smart, and that my brain just worked too fast for anyone else to keep up.

In all of my 15 years, nobody had ever called me smart. 

With that one little comment, I started passing classes. I ended up graduating not only high school, but college, too. My stutter slowed, and now, years later, I still truly believe that I'm smart.  

That one math teacher that took time out of his overworked days to tell the dumb kid she was smart. That's what stuck with me.
 

"That looks like a cartoon."

As a kid I always loved painting, and when I got to middle school, I finally had a chance to take a real art class.

We were working on landscapes, and I decided to paint a mountain range based on a real photo. I was really proud of my work so far, and I was so happy to have a whole class period in school dedicated to this beloved hobby. 

The teacher came up to me and looked at my painting in disgust. She said, "That sky is ridiculous! Skies are not that deep blue in real life. They're light grey. Almost white. That looks like a cartoon."

I tried to tell her that I was going directly off the blue of the sky in the photo, but she insisted I change it.

To this day, twenty years later, whenever I see a deep, rich blue sky in real life, I still think of her. 

"You need this."

Growing up, I was never really big, but compared to my 5'4 120 pound mother, I was enormous. 

For Christmas in 5th grade, I received a beautiful box wrapped in red paper from my parents. I excitedly opened it in front of my entire family. It was the Richard Simmons Deal-a-Meal diet program. I was absolutely humiliated. My mother's only explanation was, "You need this." 

I look back on my childhood and I can remember the comments from them about how big my arms were and how fat I looked in my clothes. I remember my mom saying once that she didn't understand why I was so fat because I didn't eat any more than she did. These things stuck with me. I don't think my parents intentionally tried to hurt me, but their words are burned into my soul. 

I'm now 33 years old with a 10 year old daughter of my own. I go out of my way to build up my daughter and to let her know that she is perfect just the way she is.