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by Angela Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 13+ · Other · Biographical · #1099279
this is a part of who I am.
I was once a very friendly person. Now I hate to be face to face with a stranger. Ever since the 1st grade I have had only a few friends. The kids who saw me as different, teased me unmercifully. They called me retarded because I was smaller than they were. They called me stupid because I learned at a slower pace than they did. They laughed at me and made fun of me. After a few weeks I stopped getting upset, all of the adults (Mom, Grandma, Dad, Grandpa) all said the other kids teased me because they weren't happy with themselves. I decided to ignore them. Things were normal for a while and then I moved and had to change schools.

I didn't know anyone there and I felt confident I could make new friends. I spoke only when spoken to but in a quiet voice. I never yelled or caused trouble and I became teacher's pet. That was the worst thing that could have happened.

I started getting teased but I laughed with it. I didn't care. I refused to allow them the satisfaction of knowing they had hurt my feelings. Seeing the dissappointment on thier faces was all the comfort I needed.

I was still friendly and nice to people. I was taught to be nice to people, even the ones I hated the most.When they couldn't tell that they had hurt my feelings or made me angry they started hitting me like I did something wrong. This continued for a long time. Then in the sixth grade all but three of my friends abandoned me, I was accused repeatedly of sleeping with my male teachers to get good grades. Little did they know I had d's and f's on my report card.

Things were thrown at me and I was jumped multiple times on my way home from school. I felt there was nowhere left to run so I started fighting back. There were almost always more of them than I could take.

Sometimes I would have 5 people trying to fight me at once, so to get away, I would climb up a tree if I could. I never had serious injuries but the most devasting blow was that half of the people coming after me used to be my friends.

They called me a whore and spread rummors about me. At one point in time there was a rumor going around that I was three months pregnant. I was not pregnant. I tried to tell people I wasn't pregnant, what they heard was all gossip. None of it was true.

Nobody cared. I spiraled into a deep depression that led to annorexia and then bulimia. Not to mention I attempted suicide and admitted to the psychiatric ward of the hospital.

I kept avoiding the issues that caused me to feel the way I felt. I wouldn't talk to the doctors or the other kids much I was too afraid to trust anyone, afraid they would turn thier back on me too.

I hated myself and I hated people. I felt sick when asked to talk to people. I have since over come the feelings of hatred and mistrust but meeting people for the first time still gets to me. My Husband played hell getting close to me because I ran yet again. I was afraid that he only wanted one thing, something I wouldn't give to somebody if they didn't love me.

He was as stubborn as I am, he just wouldn't give up.
He took me away from a guy that beat the crap out of me. He told me men were not supposed to hit women. I ran away again. He found me hiding and shaking near a bus shelter two blocks away, cold and hungry.

He gave me some food and warm clothes. I came home with him convinced that I was safe for the moment. He already had a male roommate, so I slept with him that night. He stayed fully dressed and under a separate blanket from me. When he didn't put any moves on me I felt safe. It was three whole months before I trusted him enough not to freak out every time he moved. He made me feel safer and more comfortable every day. The result is we are married now and happier than ever.

I wish I could help people going through what I went through but I don't know how to reach them. I would like to provide support to them and a safe place to talk about thier feelings. I can be reached at mrs.ulmer@writing.com maybe I can help if given the chance.
© Copyright 2006 Angela (mrs.ulmer at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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