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.
For a very long time, I identified as a lesbian. When I began dating my current boyfriend, however, I came out as bisexual to my closest friends and my family.
My best friend told me, "I'll always think of you as a lesbian," and, "I know you're just confused. Don't worry; I know you're gay. You two will break up because you aren't straight."
She also told me that if I wasn't a lesbian, she couldn't be my friend anymore. She told me I lied about my identity so I could "invade" LGBT spaces.
It hurt hearing that from someone I was so close to. It's caused intense feelings of self doubt and self hatred. Even now, two years later, I think about what she said, and I suffer from some pretty intense internalized biphobia. She was my best friend; she knew me better than anyone.
I still question my relationship and how I feel about my boyfriend of two years. I question whether or not the feelings I have for him are real. I will probably spend the rest of my life being afraid to openly admit I am a bisexual woman. I don't know where I belong.
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.
After I revealed to one of my closest friends that I have slept with over fifteen men since college, her 'helpful' response was, "You have the makings of a good person. Really, you do!"
In a friendship built on trust and sharing, this comment really struck me. I didn't see myself as a bad person then, nor do I now.
But I struggle with the levels of judgement I now fear my trusted friends will inflict on me if I tell them the full truth of my life.
My mom always pointed out everything that was beautiful about all of my friends, but she always called me Olive Oyl because I was skinny and uncoordinated.
I started seeing a therapist about a year ago. One of the main issues we talked about was how I felt like the supporting character in everyone's life, and how I sacrifice my own needs to make others happy.
At one point, she accidentally called me by the name of a friend of mine who we had been discussing. The therapist didn't catch her mistake, so I corrected her. Instead of apologizing for her own mindless slip and moving on, she said, "It's so interesting how you seem to be fading into the background in relationships and having your friends overpower you, even in our session."
It made me so angry that this therapist used her own absentminded word mixup as some sort of brilliant revelation of how I am inherently someone who is less important and prominent in relationships. I could tell that she was so pleased with herself for making this connection.
Of course, knowing what you already know about me, it took me six months to finally stand up for myself and leave this therapist for good.
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.
I recently started coming out as asexual to my family and close friends. It's something I'm still figuring out myself, and am trying not to be insecure about. It's hard when people close to me make comments like this:
"You just haven't had enough experience with relationships yet. Once you've had a good relationship this should change. If it doesn't, you should get your hormones checked. You might want to get counseling to see if trauma caused this." - My mother
"Well, I don't think you really have enough experience to know for sure." - My best friend
"You probably haven't found the right person yet. You just have to wait." - My cousin
But some friends never fail to bring me up, reassure me, and are supportive of my identity <3
"Your sexuality is valid, and anyone who disagrees is trash." - My ace friend
The day after my boyfriend and I broke up, I sobbed about it on the phone with my cousin, who was three months younger than I was.
For hours we relived our childhood memories and the games we created together and holidays we spent together. We talked about how excited we were to see each other in three weeks, when she would have her new car and I would be done with my semester.
She told me, "Life will always work out for someone like you."
She turned my tears into laughter.
She died an hour and a half later in a car accident.
I like to think that God, if there is one, knew he was going to take her and gave me one last time to relive everything we did together and how much we loved each other.
During that phone call, I told her for the first time, "I know you look up to me, but I want you to know that your big cousin looks up to you too." I felt the urge to say this, out of nowhere.
I miss her every day, but that last conversation is what keeps me together. I'm so thankful for whatever in the universe gave me that solace to be able to say goodbye, even when I didn't know I would have to.
I live by her words, that life will work out for someone like me. And she gets to look down from heaven and watch it happen.
I'm not mad. I won't be mad. I refuse to be. All the kisses are good memories, the presents, the loving smiles and lovey dovey talking.
Now it's different. You lost your focus for me, and gained it for my best friend. That emotionally killed me. Me desire to go on was crushed, but I was determined to stay friend with you.
Then you proceeded to tell me that life was hard for you because you had no chance with her. That hurt me the most.
Has anyone ever made a fleeting comment about you that immediately became tattooed onto the front of your brain for all of eternity, impacting your self-perception and self-worth? Whether it was an offhand comment made by someone you love and respect or a fleeting declaration by someone you barely know, we share the moments that stick.
