Demons inside

I never had a defining bad moment to show me that I was a hideous person.  In fact when I was a child I was actually cute.  I never won a pageant but I was a very pretty kid.  I started school and was excited to meet new kids and to make friends.

I loved my cousins and I knew that I was friendly, so when I started kindergarten it was pretty simple to make new friends.  That’s something I never had a problem with.  I could make friends anytime anywhere.

I don’t remember a lot of kindergarten but I remember vividly when Crispy Critters came out.  The kids changed the name to make fun of me.  It hurt, more than words can express it hurt.   I would cry and that would cause the lot of them to laugh.

It was then that I knew I’d never be popular.  But more than that I knew that I was not good enough.  I think that may have been the first moment I thought I was ugly.  Oh I’d do a few more pageants and each time I didn’t win, I’d feel uglier and uglier.

I don’t wish that on any other child.  Ever.

Somewhere around fourth grade I got sick every morning before school.  Physically ill.  I’d toss up meals I’d yet to eat.  As soon as the school bus crossed the street, I’d feel better.  My mother eventually figured it out, she called the school and informed the teacher that I must be being bullied.

I was.

It culminated with the bully calling the house and telling my mother (thinking it was me on the phone) that she’d kill me at school, because she’d gotten in trouble for bullying.

A few words later my mother had informed her that threatening was an offense worthy of the police, and the bully’s mother took to the phone.  The conversation went as follows.

Mom:  “Your daughter has taken to calling the house to threaten my daughter, this needs to stop.”
Her Mom: “My daughter would never do that!  Maybe your daughter started it?”
Mom:  “I don’t know who started it, but it ends now.  If she continues to threaten my daughter I’ll let her handle it.”
Her Mom:  “What do you mean? You’ll encourage her to fight?”
Mom:  “I will encourage them to get it out of their systems in front of adults who can step in if it gets too bad.”
Her Mom:  “Fine come here.”
Mom:  “No, you can come here.  {gives address} At noon on Saturday, let them get it out.”

So you can imagine how scared I was on Saturday.  I don’t know that I breathed until about bedtime, when they still hadn’t shown up.  On Monday, the bully told me my mother was crazy.  She might have been right, at least about this.  However, it worked.

The turmoil had been started by bullies, but it ruminated inside me.  I felt as if I was never good enough.  When puberty hit, it hit hard.  I started in the middle of class wearing a white sun dress.  When I stood up to go the bathroom I had to have looked like a murder victim.

I was distraught, the counselor came to check on me, and then took me to her office to call my mother.  Then after much talk they convinced me to change clothes and finish out my day.  “It shows the other kids that you aren’t phased by this.”

I was phased.  It took far longer for me to buy my own products than most women.  I was terrorized because of it.

I joined band in seventh grade.  After attempting a few instruments because I had family members who played them, I settled on the flute.  I was good from the get go, and got better.  I once hoped to be a professional flautist, but that was not in the cards.

This however would lend me to learning that I am not attractive. My weight began to fluctuate during this time.  I’d go from slightly overweight to chunky.  No matter what size I was, no one would even talk to me.

Before you say it was due to me being shy, that wasn’t it.  I’d go to contests, or band camp and come home with tons of new people to mail/call.

And before you say it was due to the other band geeks being shy, that wasn’t it either.  The guys were constantly hung up on others, constantly dating them.

I had a few ‘boyfriends’ none of them ended well.  I was either told off by their parents that I was a slut and their son was too good for me, because I wrote something in a letter about kissing my ‘boyfriend’.  Or They’d hold me down and try to have their merry way with me. (that one ended with my knee in his crotch and me leaving that friend’s house forever, as he was her brother)

There was the one who could drive when I was in ninth grade, he was a junior.  He had a brown convertible, and he was sweet.  He’d drive me from the junior parking lot to the band room (about three blocks) and sit with me until after school practice.  He broke up with me for someone else.  He did it in a letter, and broke my heart.

My Cousins (all boys) informed him that was not how you treated their cousin.

After the first date I had turned into a real shite experience I gave up.  I’d do my makeup.  I’d fix my hair.  I did all the things I was supposed to do, but I turned to a friend when I needed companionship.  I’m fairly certain he’s gay, but I don’t think he knows yet or at least his family doesn’t know.

So now days when I sit at home alone, I grow depressed.  Especially in this town of pathetic.  I’m the only me there is.  I’m nothing special though.  I’m just a geeky woman who lives in the middle of Hicksville.

So when people tell me “You’ll get married, and have kids.”  I scoff.  Hard.

When they say “It’s not that bad.”  I roll my eyes, and try to continue on about my day.

And when people say “You are so smart, and so nice!  You should be married already.”  I think back to what made me the way I am.

I live inside my head.  It’s nice there.  I live through tv and movies.  They don’t hurt me.  I have a few good friends. I have a really good guy in my life right now (even if he lives half a continent away).  And I have to be content with that.

People will say “be nice to yourself.  Your pretty.”  Or “You should be more self-confident”  but to them I ask “Where do you buy that?  Walmart doesn’t have it.”



6 thoughts on “Demons inside

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  1. Madison, I experienced some of the same things. You don’t have to stay in the past. Close the door; if it slips open, your mantra is I don’t live there anymore. I found a 12 step program that brought new friends who were a source of wisdom and strength. They walk with you out of darkness into new light.

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