In the Shadows of a Rejecting Society (rough draft)

How do you see obstacles that you have gone through? Do you see them as problems that you regret or things that have shaped you? To me true strengths can be measured by the little things you have overcome. Throughout life people encounter so many obstacles and take them for granted or regret them. Everyone in life has overcome something or some tragedy. I know what people think. People think that there is someone’s life that is worse than another’s but it all depends on how you comprehend what you have gone through and why.1

Over the past two years I have gradually become more open about the tragedies I have experienced. Through a poetry web site I joined I have met so many young women that have gone through similar things as me and more. All they want is someone to talk to. These women are my inspiration to talk about my problems so I can help people in like situations as I was or am in. Think about something that you have gone through that still hurts you. Did you want someone to relate with, someone that knew exactly how you felt, or maybe just someone to share it with? Did you ever talk about it? Did anyone listen? Most people have no one to talk to or relate to and that is why I want to share my life with anyone who will listen. More than likely someone will know how I felt at one time or another2

Most people growing up have fond memories of their childhood friends and others have troubling memories of fearing recess and being alone. As a young girl troubled by lack of friends, parental relationship, and happy memories going to school was a war zone dodging paper wads, sneaking behind bookshelves, and hiding under desktops to avoid cruel peers and rude not understanding teachers. With hair all strangely, clothes covered in boats or the occasional puppy face with stitched on bells, and my black over sized boots didn’t scream “be my friend”. 3

If anything was worse than the torment on the bus ride to school it was the dreaded recess. Everyday eating slowly like it was my last meal and I was to walk into the flames of hell at the very moment I swallowed the last bite. Once finishing the hot meals fit for a slave I would creep around the building side as though I were on a 007 mission to save my life. When reaching the corner of the building where no one could see me I would play with the dirt that was kicked up by the children playing earlier that day. Sometimes when I wasn’t quite as sneaky as I wanted to be someone would spot my pale face in the darkened corner. 4

The girls were the worst of all the heathens in my war zone of a school. Clawing and shoving every moment a supervisor looked the other way. I escaped home with the last piercing ring of the bell with battle wounds from the battle that day. As time went on the girls just got meaner. Once when the trees were covered in snow and the ground was ice I was hung in the woods of my school. Five or more girls grabbed me and dragged me into the woods and hanged me by my hot pink snow suit. At the moment that the bell rang calling us back to our rooms my hood ripped and I fell to the ground covered in snow. While stumbling back to safety with chest in hand and heaving frantically I walked alone. No one noticed oh help. A few laughs here and there, but never a helping hand.5

In middle school, I was still surrounded by the same belligerent heathens. So you can assume that much didn’t change. The only difference now was I had friends that used me and a body older than my age. Being voted fifth place for having the biggest breasted in Walled Lake Middle was the highlight of my time spent there. I continued to dodge the weapons of choice by my peers; and I began to grow highly depressed. Soon after passing to the sixth grade I had my innocence ripped away. I was staying the night for the first time at my best friend real dad’s house. After falling asleep next to my best friend a soft voice awoke me. I said “what” the man than said to be quiet and to come with him. Not sure what was happening or who was over me I said no and tried to go back to bed. Soon after the man walked out I had realized some one walked back into the room and was now standing over me. The strange man proceeded to remove my moons and stars pajama pant and white spaghetti shirt all while he thought I was sleeping. Though I was wide awake and can still picture every car light that illuminated his characteristics, I was paralyzed with fear. I moved and curled myself up as though I was sleeping but he was persistent and didn’t give up. The moment he was done and left me there to contemplate the situation I began to cry and ask myself why my best friend never woke up to help me. At arms length she never noticed. All of which happened by my best friends fifteen year old step brother whom of which I had just met that day. 6


Before the incident with my friend’s brother I had met an older man. (we shall call him “Bob”) I met him because he hit on me at a water gun fight amongst the local kids when I was eleven. He was a seventeen year old pizza maker at the local pizza shop who still lived with his mother in the apartment across from mine. I got to know him for over a year and as time went on I began to fall for the attention. Not so much for him but for the love that I was missing at home. I started to look for love from other men because I had been so lonely me entire life. With no friends and my parents never home I needed someone’s attention. A few months after what happened with my friends’ brother I went to “Bobs” house. It was a warm night. I began to walk over at two in the morning. My parents never knew I was ever gone. 7

I was twelve and he was seventeen the day he slowly encouraged statutory rape. I didn’t want to do what he was doing but I was scared of him because he was twice my size. I didn’t know what to do. I was twelve and no one had ever explained to me how to tell someone no when they did something I didn’t want. I allowed what happened. Not only did I let him but slowly I just didn’t care any more. I wanted someone to love me and I thought he did. But every time I went to his house he wanted more than I did. Even when I would tell him no and all I wanted to do was talk it didn’t matter. For over two years this went on. He even drove an hour to “visit” me. I didn’t know better. 8

Over time a lot of horrible situations like those arose. I was raped by my ex-boyfriend, a man I just met, and a childhood friend. I was also molested by friends and several complete strangers. Two of the strangers were men that were outside on different occasions when I would walk around Nashville at night. They tried to force me into buildings but I broke away. One man was my friend’s friend that I did not know. He stalked me for two days and wouldn’t leave the front of my house. One day he snuck up behind me and took my mothers key’s from me. I chased him down into a vacant apartment building where he tried to make me kiss him as he pushed his body against me. He was five times stronger than me and had me pinned against a wall. He told me if I would kiss him he would let me go. When I ran he yanked me back as hard as he could and threw me to the walk and proceeded to hump against me. I finally got free and ran home. I tried to tell my friends what happened but they didn’t believe me. They would try to get me to be around him and would tease me about what I had said. That is when I decided I no longer wanted to tell people what happens to me.9

About two years ago I also found out that my father had been cheating on my mother with a 40 something year old divorcé with two kids and a dog. She later became a mother figure when my mom wasn’t around. She would buy me things and wanted me to go on vacations with her. As time went on the idea started to hurt me more and more. After some time he started to treat me differently and was more belligerent. My father didn’t want to deal with me anymore so he sent mo to Tennessee to live with my mother. The day we got there he told my mother he had been cheating on her for two years and then he left me to pick up the pieces. I was left in a strange new area to take care of my grown mother and my baby brother all by myself.10

My mother became extremely anti-social. Our relationship for the most part ended because we never talked. My mother stopped talking and interacting with me and my six year old brother. Not to motion my mother worked all hours of the day. I started taking off and leaving my brother home alone because I just couldn’t take the prison of a home life. I began to hang out with college students and drop outs. I even put myself at risk when I started getting into cars with strangers and giving out my number to drug dealers. I guess you could say I had a death wish from my unsatisfactory life. I seemed to put myself in the line of danger without even recognizing my out right scream for attention and affection. I was unhappy and couldn’t take the pain. My very first day I moved to Tennessee I left at midnight to walk around the streets. I became overwhelmed and unfortunately I had been playing with a lighter the past hour of walking. I began to breakdown and that was my first experience of burning my flesh. I pulled up my sleeve and I burnt myself. While uncontrollably sobbing I walked to my home under the moonlight and yellow street lights. I couldn’t believe what I had done but I didn’t care, I felt better. 11

In between tragedies I found new and different ways to deal with my pain. Though not constructive to me they were effective. After my ex boyfriend raped me I started to cut myself on day to day bases. Though cutting was a previous issue with me it was never so bad to leave scars. On my upper thigh I can still point out the day of my rape. I still struggle with cutting but have tried to stop. To deal with things in a different manor I also started doing drugs. A year into taking cough and cold medicine at least once a week I had an overdose. I took twenty four pills to get high and I wound up almost dying. I was rushed to the emergency room because I had passed out and I could not talk, move, or anything. Though still capable of hearing and seeing I couldn’t move any part of my body. While in the hospital the doctors noticed a ripped black cloth tightly bound around my leg. They pulled it up. (With no hesitation) Noticing a shocking seen I was expected to get stitches on my calf for a half an inch deep cut. That is when I decided I needed to break away from cutting. As time went on from not cutting I found new comforts.12

You could say I gave up one problem for another. I began to feel better about things every time I skipped a meal. And if I couldn’t skip a meal I just wouldn’t hold it down for very long. Giving up problems that you love for new problems is a painful price to pay for comfort. I wish I wouldn’t have to relay on putting myself in pain to be happy but it is all that I know. It doesn’t hurt as much for me to put myself down as it would for others because I know nothing else. My pain is created by others but enforced by me. When I do something I or another dislikes I tend to yell at myself in my head. I don’t know why I put myself through this but I just do. I kind of can’t help it. My whole life I have relied on my hatred for myself to help me change my ways. 13

When I was twelve my fifteen year old religious virgin boyfriend who ironically was a drug dealer had asked me one day under an oak tree “Are you a lesbian?” I told hem no and asked why he would say that to me. He enumerated on the question about how I had all girl posters in my room even though I had a hatred for all of them and I did have men posers just didn’t put them up and how I didn’t talk about men that often. I began to think about it “What’s a lesbian, what if I am one and what do I do?” over time I began to realize that I was and that I didn’t want to be one. In fear of rejection from a closed minded society that I was already living in the shadows of I decided that I would change myself. I tried everything that I could do. I would hurt myself when ever I realized I liked a girl. I never had friends that were girls in fear I would like them. I told myself I was sick and that this wrong. Till I had met Tiffany. I cute blonde girl with blue eyes and I killing smile. I fell for her and I fell hard. I wound up dating her for some time but it was in the closet. I believe now that being in the closet hurt me more than anything. We never kissed or held one another she wouldn’t even tell people I was her best friend. I felt worthless. 14

When I was younger people treated my like I was nothing and like I would never amount to anything. My parents have always told me that I would amount to nothing and that I did everything wrong. So still today I believe that. I feel as though everyone was right. In life my real struggle is breaking away from that feeling. Though I feel poorly of myself I am stronger. More and more I feel better about who I am and who I chouse to be. I always try to look at things like it is making me stronger and better of a person. I love who I am even at the times that I don’t. It is hard to explain but it is exactly how I feel. Everyone goes through hard times and some make it through stronger and other are still making it through. But in life it doesn’t maker how you make it through things but how you view the experience. I wouldn’t change my experiences for anything. Would you?15

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