Since I could remember I always been a target.
Most people remember their first bully being another child but for me my first bully was my own mother. Since the age of 3 I remember mother always belittling me whether it was at home or in public it didn't matter she always had something to say to me. For some reason other people (talking about grown ups) never seemed to question anything about her actions I don't know why they never did but that is how it went. When in public she would hit me, drag me everywhere by my wrist, and call me things like "imbecile", "devil spawn", "puta" (whore in spanish), "hija de puta" (female version of son of a b****), amongst other derogatory names, as well as derogatory phrases that as a kid I wouldn't understand until I was older. At home the verbal abuse was followed by physical abuse (hair pulling, beating, slamming into walls, scratching, and beatings involving objects besides her hands). Mother has always been this violent sometimes to a point where she would break objects. I recall one time she was taking me with her to the liquor store and the backpack she had me carry was stuck to a fire-truck the neighbours had given me. She picked up the backpack and swung the fire-truck which was dangling by the strap into the floor until it shattered. I began to cry and she proceeded to yell at me for crying. Most of this may seem irrelevant but this is crucial because my mother has been around to this day and enabled lots of the trauma I suffered.
Fast forwarding to the beginning of school, I was scared naturally like most kids but that fear never receded it only remained and became worse. In school I was excluded by the students and singled out by teachers. Students would pick on me due to my appearance they would say I looked ugly and/or stupid for how I was dressed (my mother forced me to wear fancy dresses kids would mostly just wear once while other kids wore basic jeans and a shirt), they would call me weird and talk about me behind my back. And the teachers weren't any better, if I told them about what the students were doing they would yell at me to stop bothering them, if I would bump into someone they would punish me despite it being an accident, and if other students told the teacher I was doing something that I obviously wasn't doing the teachers would take their word and yell at me. When working in groups I was always picked on and I just usually stayed quiet or would start crying, and teachers saw it as a sign that I didn't like to work with others and as being disruptive. And when word of it would get to my mother, I would get beaten for it.
In one particular case in 3rd grade had me labelled as "crazy" for the rest of my life. There was a particular bully aside from the rest of the class of course who would hit me, pull my hair and call me ugly. Around this time grown ups would start teaching kids about how bullying was wrong and how when in trouble one should talk to a grown up and ask for help. Foolishly I did so and nothing was done, I told my mother and all she did was blame me for being bullied. It got to a point in where I told the principal and while the bully's parents were called nothing helped. After that the boy began to be more aggressive. He began to trip me, beat me up during recess, to where I ended up bruised for it. I began feeling suicidal saying I wanted to die. At this point I learned that telling people wasn't going to help and thus I took matters into my own hands. The result of that was me getting suspended, my mother telling the principal to give me psychological help in exchange for revoking the suspension. Of course mother would make up stories about my father drugging me and being abusive and neglectful in order to get people to believe I was just troubled. In reality, (and most of it I had told the counsellor they had assigned me), I revealed that my father was the good guy and that mother was an alcoholic and was having an affair with another man whom she was forcing me and my brother call "daddy". Of course this didn't help either because my mother remained in power and all the blame was being put into my father and me as well.
Starting junior high I thought I would get a fresh start, and nope I was wrong. Immediately I was being bullied for my looks being called my trademark nickname "ugly". Girls would pretend to be my friend and then spread rumours about me. Guys would laugh at me and say I didn't deserve to be called a girl. My appearance at that time was affected by my mother whom forbade me from shaving my legs, wearing make-up, fixing my eyebrows, or fixing my hair. I was short, stumpy, chubby but in the ugly way, flat-chested, my legs had hair, my eyebrows were thick and my hair was always a mess even when i brushed it. Girls would taunt me about being ugly and abnormal for not shaving my legs like a normal girl. Boys would push me around and say I was a nasty monster. At this point I became depressed and started thinking I wanted to die again. And people took advantage of that by telling teachers, other students and soon the assistant principal that I was emo and that I was cutting myself. The AP called my mother, forced to sign a pseudo contract to prevent me from self harming (which I hadn't even done at that time). That just gave my mother another reason to abuse me. From here the physical and verbal abuse from her worsened with her beating me to a point where bruises were left and her verbal degradation began to range from things like "I should have killed you when I had the chance" to things like "you deserve to be treated like this for how useless, worthless, and disgusting you are". Without knowing people had gradually made my home situation worse and the fact I had no friends made it more difficult.
I became desperate to fit in so I wouldn't be so lonely. I became a cheerleader, (I got bullied out of the team). I began to date people (I just ended up making myself look like a slut for it). My sanity was crumbling with every minute I would hear the things people said repeat over an over and over in my head. Rumours spread like wildfire. People mocked my depression. Teachers labelled as whiny, pitiful and negative. Even when I began to draw I was still struggling because while drawing put me at peace, people saw it as a reason to put me down. Teachers saw it as being disruptive, even though I only drew after doing my work. One teacher even snatched and ripped a drawing of mine in front of everyone. And thus junior high ended with nothing but turmoil.
Onto high school things weren't any better. Because of my first ex I was labelled a slut, a bitch and a cunt. At that moment I began dating a boy whom I really liked. But of course his friend's sister began spreading rumours about me being a slut because his friend happened to be my first ex. The boy whom I was dating (let's call him R) believed every inch of it. Ex#1's friends began to threaten me and kept it up until they graduated. As for R, I wasted 2 years with him thinking I had found my forever. But of course he dumped me like all my other exes for being ugly. He was ashamed at the fact that I didn't look like the hentai girls he wanted and that I was rather neurotic. Of course he failed to understand the reason of why I was like that. In those first 2 years I managed to make many enemies unwillingly all cause of my looks (once again the pressing problem). My junior year was the darkest time for me because I did try to reach out for help. And the "grown ups" were just as bad as the ones in junior high. The social worker who was the one who supposedly helped students just got sick of me and said I was doing nothing but throw a pity party for myself. I for one do not appreciate pity. I don't give it and I do not like receiving it. Oh but of course the prettier, slimmer girls who went to him for help got all the help they needed when they began to whine. At this point I had truly given up... I began to destroy myself physically. Everyday was a new opportunity to end my pathetic, worthless life. And as for mother... well, you know how that went down.
During senior year I had completely isolated myself from everyone. I hated everyone and everything around me. I knew everyone was just out to hurt me. And then I had met a rather odd boy. Now I say odd because he was kind to me, he didn't say anything about my looks. And well to this day we are still together despite lots of initial hardships we had. But at this point I realized no one would ever like me, I would never have friends, I would always be ugly no matter what. Yes I graduated, so what? I graduated as the ugly girl no one liked. I may have someone now but I know they will leave me one day for someone prettier than me. I had my first best friend but she betrayed me. And I had a second best friend too whom has now abandoned me, probably for being too ugly to be his friend. The suicide attempts have stopped. But not a day goes by when I don't think about dying.
I am now the disease everyone has made me out to be. I trust no one, I hate with a passion, I do not show kindness to anyone from my past. I treat everyone as a potential enemy. I hate myself, I have accepted my disgusting appearance, and my curse. I am the one who has to bear the pain for many. Even in the few attempts I had made to open up and offer my kindness to people I ended up being used and taken for granted. I am physically ill and scarred. I have lost all interest in what I used to love. Don't get me wrong I love the person I am with but I know that he will get sick of me one day. Because everyone leaves me. Everyday I wake up knowing nothing will get better. My body hurts, my mind hurts, and my heart hurts the most. I am tired of having to see and hear the cruelty society emits. I don't even think I need to attempt suicide any more... My overall health is deteriorating as is. Is only a matter of time till all the pain I accumulated ends up causing my heart to stop.
But of course it doesn't matter. This story will just end up falling on deaf ears. It will be disregarded as a method to create attention... But trust me when I say that attention is the last thing I want. I have gotten so much "attention" in my life to where I rather just hide away for good. I don't know why I bothered to waste my time writing this. No one cares about what an ugly girl has to say.
Also as a disclaimer I have left out many details from the story because I felt uncomfortable talking about them here.
Well I guess this is it. The last time I will ever bother to tell my story...
By writing some words below, you are showing your support and letting everyone know they're not alone.