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Trying to remember

Dire Lion

New Here
Sometime after I was born, still a baby, my biological dad told my older sister that I didn't belong in the family. She, only being a toddler, hit me and repeated his words to my mom. They divorced.

Even back in preschool I was nervous. All the time. I cried before I met my first best friend because I didn't know if she'd like me. I refused to perform my at my ballet recital because there were so many people and I hated my uniform. Anyone significantly older than me made me feel extremely intimidated. I'm not sure why, because when I ask about everyone I was afraid of (with a few exceptions) they're always described as really kind, or just as shy as I am.

Sometime during that time my mom got a boyfriend. His name was Steve. I don't remember much about him, besides one still image of him and his daughter in our kitchen. Now that I'm older, my sister told me that he physically abused his daughter and supposedly hit my mom over the head with a beer bottle. My mother denies that claim so I have no clue... My sister also says he hit me but I can't remember anything about him. I forgot he existed until about four years ago.

When I was in kindergarten I got ran over by a fifth grader on a bicycle. From what I understand it was probably traumatic. I guess the kid was huge, and I almost broke my arm. I thought the x-ray was cool, but when the school announced that bicycles were no longer allowed on campus I made sure to hide my arm so no one knew that it was my fault. To this day, I panic if I hear a bicycle or anything with wheels behind me.... Stupid....

My first grade year was spent mostly at my uncle's house. At the time he had a wife. They were evil. So much yelling... screaming... I never understood what I did wrong. They often spanked. This time of my life is a blur of being forced to try to learn to ride a bicycle without training wheels, being forced to ride my bicycle EVERYWHERE..... and just feeling terrified...

I'm going to stop here for now... I feel stupid about the bicycle thing but it needs to be said somewhere... Hopefully I will continue. There's so much more than this to be said.
 
Warning for self harm in this post.

Let's skip on ahead to my freshman year of high school. I believe that this was the darkest time in my life. I was driven past my mental limit by a lot. Right before the school year started my grandpa passed away. He was the only 'father' figure I ever had in my life that was positive. My dad is an asshole, and my step dad emotionally and verbally abused me for years. Needless to say, it hit me pretty hard when my grandpa was gone... though I don't think I realized it. I had to be the strong one. No one saw my tears. I comforted my mom, my sister... and didn't let anyone comfort me.

I hated high school. Everything felt unfamiliar, but yet it still felt the same. School started even earlier than before. I had to be at school by 7:10am! I don't know why exactly, but I can't wake up easily in the mornings. I get depressed, angry, and just can't wake up. So I was constantly in the principal's office for tardiness. It only got worse. A little less than halfway through the year I met a girl named Summer (not her real name.) I had noticed her in my English class on many occasions, and decided that I should branch out and make a new friend. She seemed really cool, smart, and I probably had a little bit of a crush on her. We became friends surprisingly fast. We texted a lot. The topic of conversation usually ended up being about mental health.

I was, and probably still am, very impressionable... Summer was very manipulative and from talking with my therapist I think we determined that she is a sociopath.

This was when I started to self harm, just barely. This was what she really latched onto. Everything she did somehow made me want to self harm more and more and more. I'd show up to school and somehow she'd know I did it. So she'd check my arms, seemingly trying to be a 'worried' and 'helpful' friend by making sure it was safe and all that, but she'd always end with the same comment. "Well, at least it's not THAT bad. It really could be worse." So, because I had a serious need for attention and validation I'd make it worse. And worse.

Another thing she did is get me to self harm in the middle of class. Not directly. We sat together in English class and every day pretty much everything seemed normal. Then at lunch time I'd notice that she cut her arm. I had to ask when and why that happened because it worried me, and she told me she did it in English class. Words can't explain how much this incidence drove me crazy. I still think about it... I never ever saw her do it that day, there was no way she could have! I know she did it at some other time now but still... Another time she did do it in front of me. To her ankle, right in her chair, right in front of the teacher. Of course no one noticed but me. This also drove me insane.

Eventually I started doing it myself. I realized how easy it was to get away with it, and classes for me were hell. I never slept, had constant nightmares, and my teachers were shallow. So self harming in class was addictive. I think the only class I didn't do it in was the English class with Summer. If I wasn't doing it in class, I'd go to the bathroom and do it. I was basically self harming 24/7.

My geometry teacher hated me. Summer introduced me to my now girlfriend, and I texted her during any class I could. For some reason I texted a lot in geometry, so the teacher was constantly yelling at me to put the phone away. Except for a few occasions when I was not on my phone... I was cutting myself. Or flicking a rubber band on the cuts I already had. I wonder what would have happened if she ever found out what I was really doing some of the time that she yelled at me. I just hope no one saw. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if anyone had to witness what I was doing in class.

I have more instances that stick with me that are similar. I mentioned having terrible mornings. My computer class, first thing in the morning, had an awful, terrible teacher. I can't explain how much I hate this lady. If I was even a second late, she'd write me up and I'd be in the principal's office all morning. Even after I got back from the mental hospital and had to tell all my teachers that I needed more help she didn't let up. I don't know if she hated me or what. But she made my life absolutely miserable. Instead of going to the office I'd hide in what we called the dungeon, which was a dark hallway that leads to all the computer labs, and I'd cut myself. And when I'd get back to class I'd go to the bathroom, or do it in her class. (One time I was in the bathroom self harming and some girl who had no clue what I was doing decided to tell the teacher I was puking in there??? I was in a stall, made no noise, and I just.... why did you do that?? The teacher lectured me about it and didn't believe me when I said no, I was NOT PUKING. Sigh.)

Anyways, thank you for reading if you have.
 
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