by Band Back Together | Jul 9, 2014 | Bullying, Childhood Bullying, Fear, How To Heal From Being Bullied, Self-Esteem |
I was 7 years old when they started to bully me. I was only a kid. I don’t understand what I did to them.
At first I would laugh along with them, but soon I realized that those words hurt. Didn’t they see I looked up to them? They hurt me so badly that many times I thought I didn’t deserve to live. I thought it was my fault.
They robbed me of my childhood, I would go to sleep crying, hoping the next day it wouldn’t be as bad. I asked for help, but instead, I was told to “man up.” How is an eight year old suppose to do that? After a few years they finally stopped. I had my friends and family, but I would still felt worthless, like I didn’t matter.
I forgave them, but those scars are still there.
I can still hear all those horrible things they said to me in my head. The only way I survived was that I made myself stop feeling emotions. Things would happen to me in my life, but I would no longer feel them. I talk to my former bullies now as if nothing ever happened, but whenever they look at me, I feel like I’m 7 again, hiding in a corner, scared.
Little by little, I have been able to put myself together again, to start to feel, but those painful memories just don’t go away. Whenever I remember those painful memories all I can ask myself is what did I do to them to make them hate me so much? I was only a kid.
by Band Back Together | Jul 8, 2014 | Anxiety, Coping With Domestic Abuse, Domestic Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Fear, Guilt, Helping Someone In An Abusive Relationship, Stress, Trauma |
Hi, I’m 22. I’ve been looking for something that might help the healing. I just found this site, and am glad there is something like this. It’s hard writing what happened. So here it goes. I was mentally/emotionally abused.
I don’t feel like a victim. It’s nothing like you see on TV where someone is bawling their eyes out with sudden realization. I’m just numb. Okay, I’m numb with random fits of bawling my eyes out for no reason, but still numb. Reading the other stories on here, I feel like mine was barely anything.
I was in a relationship with an abuser for two and a half years. It started out like any good relationship does, laughing and smiling. Then, his family disowned him for dating a white girl. After that, he would throw that at me to shut me up, if he perceived the smallest slight. That I was the reason for everything going bad, the fact that his family would never accept me. But it never stopped there. Daily, he called me fat, and ugly, and useless. There came a point when I believed all of that. I tried to weigh as little as I could so that maybe he would give me a small compliment. I tried to do everything perfect, even though it wasn’t enough. He would insult me in front of our friends (his friends, since all of my friends liked him better). I could never tell him no or go against his word without incurring his explosive anger. He would never show his anger in public though. He would wait until we were alone to let loose. He took all but two my friends. He’s a charismatic guy, and everyone likes him. How can people stay friends with an abuser when they KNOW? There came a point when I felt so alone and unwanted that I thought about suicide. The thing that kept me from it, the only thing, was the thought of my mom.
I almost left probably five times. Why didn’t I just leave the first time?
My mom saved me from this “relationship.” She’s a psychiatric nurse and recognized the signs. In her words, she told me that I didn’t laugh or sing anymore. In August, after he threatened me more than usual, she told me her suspicions. I told him that she didn’t like our relationship. (When his family disowned him, he made me promise that if my mom ever didn’t like our relationship then we would break up.) I used my mom as a scapegoat to get out – I wasn’t the one who ended it. Not really.
Now, months later, I still feel lost. I’m still afraid to make decisions. I still close up and try to fix everything whenever someone’s moody. I laugh again, but that’s all I’ve gained back of myself. I’m going to start therapy in a week, and I hope that helps. Does it take this long to heal? I just want to be myself again.
One thing that one of those two friends told me has really stuck. “How can you prove that someone hurt you when they left no visible mark?”
by Band Back Together | Jul 2, 2014 | Abuse, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Coping With Domestic Abuse, Domestic Abuse, Economic Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Helping Someone In An Abusive Relationship, Psychological Manipulation |
My story starts when I met my son’s father. We first met online, and he seemed like a great guy. After a few days, we met in person to hang out. He took me to go see a movie and have a burger. Then, we went to hang out at his house.
Everything was good, until he did something I didn’t approve of. After that, he took me home and left. I was really upset about what he had done, but because he was a nice guy, I decided to forgive him.
That was my first mistake.
Days and weeks went by, and then somehow, we were dating, and I was living with him. At first, everything was good. We were happy, and I was doing whatever I could around the house to help while he worked. One day he came home all mad, and told me that the neighbor saw some guy leave our apartment. That wasn’t true. I was alone all day, cleaning the house.
He didn’t believe me. He hit me in the back and then punched me a few times. I should have left then, and never come back, but I still forgave him. I thought that it wouldn’t happen again.
Over the next couple of years, the beatings got worse. One day when I got home from work, he accused me of flirting with a coworker. When I turned my back, he hit me in the back of the head with a 2×4. I bled a lot that day. When I got pregnant, we were both happy, so I figured he wouldn’t hit me anymore.
I was wrong.
When I was three months pregnant, he went to the room to take a nap while I stayed in the living room watching tv. After a few minutes, he came back into the living room, grabbed me by my hair, and pulled me into the bedroom where he forced me to have sex with him. I just laid there crying afterwards. He continued to force me to have sex with him almost every day for the rest of my pregnancy. Sometimes he would threaten me and tell me that if I ever told the cops what he did to me, or if I tried to take the baby and get him for child support, he would put me in the hospital where I would bleed to death.
After my son was born, he wouldn’t let me raise him the way I wanted. Once, he nearly suffocated my baby and tried to blame it on me. Luckily my son, was fine and is healthy. He still continued to hit me. I missed work because of it and lost my job. I got another job after my son’s first birthday. He would still hit me sometimes, but I was able to hide the bruises.
We eventually had a fight about whether I still wanted to be with him. I told him no, I didn’t care for him anymore. He said he was okay with it, but he informed me that we would still be living together until he had money to get his own place. He would also continue to have sex with me, continue to hit me, and he was going to take my son. He also told me I wasn’t allowed to date for a year.
We only had one truck, so he still drove me to work. One day, he saw a male coworker of mine say hi to me. He asked me if I liked him, Since we were no longer a couple, I thought it was safe to say that I did. I was wrong again. He drove into a nearby parking lot, grabbed me by my hair and swung me around in the truck, My son watched this happen, screaming the whole time.
He then started to drive me back home and told me I couldn’t go to work. I told him I couldn’t afford to lose my job and I was going. He eventually calmed down and took me to work. I had a huge black eye that he told me to hide with my hair. It didn’t work. My supervisor called me into his office to talk to me and had me call the police to file a report.
It took time for my ex to be served with the order. Then, it took more time until I was able to get my son back. Eventually, he was served and I got my son back. On the day of the court hearing, the judge gave me the best news ever: I was my son’s sole parent because his father and I were never married.
I am happy now. I have a new boyfriend who I’ve known I’ve known since before I met my ex-boyfriend. He accepts my son as his own. Everything in my life is great now. The only problem I have is that I don’t know how to cope with my past. So far, counseling doesn’t seem to be helping me very much.
by Band Back Together | Jul 1, 2014 | Bullying, Childhood Bullying, Coping With Bullying, How To Heal From Being Bullied, Teen Bullying |
She came to school with a plastic Disney princess phone, and told everyone it was real. I was the only kid who didn’t believe her – I proved to the entire class that she was lying. She hated me from that day on, and made sure that I knew it.
Soon, it wasn’t just her bullying me, it was practically everyone. Elementary and middle school are, for the most part, a haze of half-memories of name-calling, spitting, and hair pulling.
In fourth grade, I had my first major depressive episode. I was up late into the night, curled in my mother’s lap, sobbing hysterically for no reason I could identify. It was confusing. All I knew was that I was incomprehensibly sad, and the kids at school were mean.
I was in eighth grade when the body image issues, self-loathing and self-injury, came into play. At first it was simple things, like no longer wearing tight clothing and digging my nails into my skin when I was frustrated. I was in ninth grade when the periods of going without food began, and when digging my nails progressed into the slicing of skin.
I was in tenth grade when the next major depressive episode hit. I was missing tons of school but I didn’t care. The world was bleak and pointless. I slept almost constantly. When I was awake, I tried to forget about my life by immersing myself in the life of a fictional character. That, or I was cutting. I felt useless.
As my sophomore year came to an end, I gradually started to feel better. The improving weather lifted my spirits. I chose to go on a community service trip to Peru that summer, thinking I was well enough to go.That is, until I got on the plane. As I walked to my seat, I felt panic rising.
I couldn’t do it; I couldn’t handle going to Peru.
What had I been thinking?
I begged to be let off of the plane, but the trip leader refused. Resigned, I sat in my seat and sobbed. On that flight, my depression began sinking to entirely new levels, worsening impossibly over the next few months. I was very suicidal.
In December, a boy I knew killed himself. It hit me hard. I saw what suicide could do to people, and how much it hurt the loved ones of the deceased. After toying with the idea of suicide, I decided I didn’t want to cause that pain, so I arranged to be hospitalized.
Since January, I have come so far. I put my efforts back into doing schoolwork. I saw my friends again. I rejoined the world of the living. I have learned an immense amount about my self and how to be happy. I’m so grateful to be alive. It’s so worth it.
I know everyone says it, but it’s true – it does get better.
by Band Back Together | Jun 27, 2014 | Anger, Bullying, Childhood Bullying, Coping With Bullying, How To Heal From Being Bullied, Sadness, Teen Bullying |
Have you ever gone to school early to decorate your friend’s locker for her birthday, only have the candy and supplies – the ones you saved up your babysitting money to buy – stolen by some bonehead boys and suddenly, there’s a game of Monkey in the Middle in the halls?
You’re the monkey.
Kids walk by, teachers pass, no one helps you get your stuff back. Moments before your friend arrives, a pretty, popular girl shows up to her locker across the hall and the boys give her the stuff you wanted to give your friend. Your friend finds you sitting teary-eyed in front of her locker with a few meager pieces of candy and streamer shreds to give her, and she gets upset and blames you for ruining her thirteenth birthday.
Have you ever come upon a group of kids who hush as you approach and resume whispering and giggling, pointing at you as you turn down another hallway? You swear you hear your name, so you turn around to give them a good glare you’re are met with raised eyebrows and “What are you looking at, freak?”
Have you ever been assigned to sit next to same pretty, popular girl in class who, when you have to work in pairs, hands you the assignment and instructs you to do all the work while she mocks you? She calls you poor, says you only own one pair of jeans, even though you have many pairs of jeans. When you get eczema on your face partway through the year, she and the cute boy behind you laugh about your “beard.”
Have you ever walking through the cafeteria with your best friend and had kids call out names, insults, and threats? You give them the finger and try not to cry while your best friend stays silent because she’s too afraid to trade her invisible status for yours – the target.
Have you ever been on the bus, chatting with your best friend, when the kid behind you starts making fun of you, calling you fat and stupid? This time, when your friend tells the kid to cut it out, he calls her ugly, says she has a unibrow. You’ve been mocked for years, his insults don’t bother you, but your sweet friend, she was just trying to help you – why would he go after her?
You tell the kid to cut it out. He doesn’t listen. So you punch him in the face. But you’re on the bus, which is school property. He gets is a bruised face and wounded ego while you get two weeks detention.
Have you ever been chosen to give the final book report in class; you’re super excited because it was a great book about bulimia, while everyone else gives book reports on Artemis Fowl and Twilight? You know you’ll be taunted by your classmates so you get to the front of the room, look down at your note cards, look at the class and your teacher, all waiting expectantly. The kids smirk and murmur to each other. You open your mouth but nothing comes out. You can’t speak. The whole class laughs at you but you know they would have laughed harder if you’d given your report so, at least, you escaped that.
Have you ever worn red lipstick to school because it makes your skin look dewy and your eyes look smoldery, and because it’s your birthday and you wanted to do something special? Only when your teacher makes you stand up on your chair so the class can sing happy birthday, your classmates begin to mock you. Your teacher makes no effort to stop them. You escape to the bathroom to find that red isn’t just on your lips, it’s on your underpants and dammit why today? You have to go home early because the cramps are so bad you can’t sit up straight and the red lipstick wouldn’t come all the way off and you look sort of clownish.
Have you ever been in class, minding your own business, when a girl – a friend – someone you’ve known since kindergarten calls you “goth” as if it’s a bad thing? When you point out that your blouse is bright blue with flowered embroidery, she says it doesn’t matter, you wear black every other day – besides, your skirt is navy which is basically black. The boy next to her calls you emo while the boy on your other side says you probably like death metal. You like Hannah Montana and the only reason you wear so much black is because your mom only buys you black clothes because she thinks you like them. You don’t say this, you bark a “shut up” because you’re starting to get angry and you don’t want this to escalate into a full-blown episodes. The teacher scolds you for telling your classmates to shut up and for chatting when you should’ve been working. You just grit your teeth, nod, and apologize.
Have you ever been pulled aside by a close friend to have her tell you that you’re not “cool enough” for her anymore? You two stop talking. A year later, your families got together, which was awkward at first, but then you played together – you thought you had your friend back, but when you waved to her at school, she pretended not to see you.
Have you ever had your only close male friend whom you walk with to and from the bus refuse to sit with you on the bus? He was afraid that the other boys would find out he thought you were a pretty cool person.
Have you ever had a favorite teacher who you adored and looked up to? Have you ever been put into a class with one of the biggest assholes, that teacher, the same one you thought could do no wrong puts you in a group with that jackass? When you talk to this teacher after class, explain that working with the boy causes personal conflicts, she says she can’t do anything about it – which is bullshit you choose to believe.
One day, that boy gets you all worked up, making it impossible for your group to accomplish anything because he’s making faces and interjecting rude comments whenever you suggest something for the assignment and finally, you blow up. You’ve learned that anger is a better response than sadness – tears provide the bullies with too much satisfaction. Your teacher, witness to the whole thing, comes over, and you think “thank god, she’s getting rid of him. We can finally get some work done.” But instead, she pulls you aside and tells you that your reaction was inappropriate; she expects poor behavior from him but not from you.
Like that makes any sense.
Have you ever had boys spread rumors that they were dating you because you were the “pretty pariah?” Then, kids come up to you and ask if you’re dating what’s-his-face and you say no, you’ve never spoken to him. You think they’re talking about that kid but you aren’t sure; you really don’t know him. And the kid asking you about it says that the boy has been telling everyone that you’re going out. And another kid comes up to you; he heard you broke up with what’s-his-face for so-and-so and half the grade thinks you’re dating a different short, fat kid. You think about it and you can see why they’d believe it.
These boys, were you dating, could help with your social standing, but you’re 11 and don’t have any interest in dating so you tell the kids that you’re not dating either boy and they leave you alone, now uninterested in you.
Have you ever been made to sit in art class with several of your tormentors, while they all ask you questions – why you’re so weird, why do you cut yourself, what made go goth?
You’re not even goth.
You’re so angry that you can’t form a coherent response there are a million things you could say but if you bothered, they’d turn it around on you. So you cut the construction paper roughly while they laugh at your agitation. When finally take a swing at one of them, they give you a dumb nickname – Swiper the Fox from that kids show Dora. The teacher thinks it’s cute but really, they’re mocking you.
Have you ever had a nickname that made no sense, but everyone called you that like it was a dirty word, the way your grandfather says things like “liberals” and “feminism?” So you walk down the halls and boys whistle at you like you’re an animal, while the girls hold up their hands to signal “STOP” just like in that Dora cartoon. One boy doesn’t just say the name; no, he calls out the song – “Swiper no swiping, Swiper no swiping, Swiper no swiping!” You see red and tackle him to the ground. A teacher pulls you off. You’re in trouble for being violent and he gets a warning for the bullying. You don’t know why your kind of mean is worse than his – wounds you inflict heal, but the bullying has left emotional scars that never fade.
Have you ever had a teacher call you morbid in front of the whole class because you wrote a journal entry about your cat dying? The same teacher who, just days before, said his favorite play is Macbeth. You’re the morbid one? How does that work?
Have you ever come home from a day where any, all of these things happened, and you just wanted to fall into your mother’s arms and sob, but you’re in middle school now, you’re a big girl, and like Fergie said, big girls don’t cry, and besides, Mom doesn’t have time? Your little brother has another ear infection, she has to pick up your sister, the baby has been crying all day, she doesn’t know what to do so she really can’t listen to you whine about your life. She has a husband who’s never home, four young children, bills to pay, a house to keep clean, errands to run, and a dissertation to write.
Have you ever felt you were carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, but your problems were too petty to discuss? You should suck it up and get over it; the mean things other kids say shouldn’t bother you, you’re not important enough anyway.
After all, the only person who listens is your psychiatrist, and you don’t even like him – he’s paid to listen to you, it isn’t genuine.
by Band Back Together | Jun 26, 2014 | Abuse, Coping With Domestic Abuse, Domestic Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Helping Someone In An Abusive Relationship |
The worst part about watching someone make the same mistakes you did is knowing they need to make them in order to be enlightened.
I feel I am finally far enough removed from the toxicity of my previous relationship to see how unhealthy it really was.
I like to think this isn’t a reflection of my detest for him because of all he did to me, but rather a truer picture through the lens of hindsight of just how destructive he really was.
I don’t want to paint myself as a victim of abuse. The only marks he ever left on me were self inflicted, save the time he pushed me into a doorway while trying to move past my shaking frame as I tried to calm him down. He didn’t mean to. He never ever struck me, threw anything at me, or brandished a weapon. But words can be a weapons, too. And there were a handful of times I did fear for my life.
I learned early on in our relationship that he had a temper. Throughout the years, The years brought lessons such as “When he is in Rage Mode, there is no reasoning with him” “Try not to cry, because that will only make him yell more,” and “Do not ever, EVER bring up a touchy subject while he is driving.”
I made the latter mistake multiple times before I learned. The conversations would begin innocently enough, a petty argument or a heavy topic, but before I knew it he would be driving upwards to 90 miles per hour, screaming at the top of his lungs, telling me I “wasn’t just going to cry my way out of this” if I let on to my fear. Would he snap out of it this time, or would he slam on the brakes and tell me to get out of the car, miles from home?
That’s just it though, because eventually he would snap out of it. He’d go back to being the caring man I thought I had, drying my tears, apologizing for raising his voice, making sweet gestures “just because” in the weeks following his outburst. I would honestly say that about 75% of the time, he was a really good boyfriend. Fiance. And eventually, husband.
But the other 25% was a nightmare. He was volatile, moody, and I never knew what might set him off.
I recently told a close friend of mine that once you begin trying to convince yourself that the “good outweighs the bad”, there is clearly enough “bad” in the situation to warrant a second thought. That 75% of a relationship, (some weeks 60%, some days barely ten…) was something I rationalized that I could be happy in for the rest of my life. But like most things, I couldn’t see how much that 25% was sucking the life out of me until I finally hit a point of realization after things got worse than I ever imagined. And I was too busy defending him to heed the thoughts of close friends who knew I deserved better.
Friend, I wish I could save you the heartache, the fear, the oceans of tears, but I know I can’t drag you to the point of realization. You may be making the very mistakes I did, but I know you need to see that for yourself before you’ll take action toward the life you so deserve. But your true friends, your family, we all love you. Know that. And if you, like I did, fear that being alone is a worse fate than anything he could put you through, know that it’s not–you are more alone right now with him than you probably realize. The thing about enlightenment, though, is that it rarely comes as an epiphany. You’re probably not going to suddenly wake up one morning with the determination to leave. But eventually, I hope you’ll begin to form the necessary resolve.
And when you finally leap, don’t doubt for a second that there will be people who love you waiting with open arms to break your fall.
