With everything that has been going on in the Episode community lately with bullying, I feel that I should share a little piece of me. I will probably share more pieces of me in the future, but for now, I want to share a little of my experiences.
***TRIGGER WARNING***
Honestly, I am sharing it here, because I notice that not many people read my blog posts, so I know the likelihood of people seeing this is slim, but sometimes you just have to get it out of your system. I have found, through writing Speak, that sometimes just writing about your pain helps so much, so here we go.
Deep breaths.
When I was little, I was made fun of a lot because of my hair. I grew up in a rural Eastern Oklahoma community where the population of Native Americans is higher than Caucasian, and the population of African Americans was less than 0.001%. No, I'm not African American. In fact, despite having Alabama Cherokee in my blood, I identify as Caucasian as my ancestors were not a part of the Dawes Rolls so I have no claim to Cherokee "privileges". Anyways, that's besides the point. My hair growing up was very wirey and unruly. Many people wanted curly hair, I longed for straight hair. No hair products were available that could tame my curls. For that, I was made fun of in elementary school. "Fro Girl" "French Poodle" the list goes on. It was not until I met my brother-in-law's niece, who is half-black, that I started to learn the best products and ways to take care of my hair. That did change how others perceived me, and I went from being bullied, to being considered the "in" crowd.
When I was a Sophomore, I transferred to another school district in the same county so that I could get a better education. Sure, if I stayed, I could have been valedictorian, but who wants to be one of 10 valedictorians in a graduating class of 80? My mother was a guidance counselor for the other district, and while I knew, for once, I would be academically challenged, I transferred.
Sometimes I regret that.
Because most of my classmates knew my mother, I was accepted. I didn't have a need for friends, and was even a part of homecoming. That all changed after our senior prom. I had a thing where I never dated anyone from the same school district I attended. At this time, I was dating a guy that could not go to prom with me because of a school competition. So, I went with friends. We went to prom, had fun, took a lot of pictures, and then of course had to have a party afterwards. Honestly, I don't even remember who's house it was, some relative of a classmate. In addition to my friends, there were other people there too that I didn't know. Friends of friends, just partying for the weekend. We drank and played card games, only I got very drunk and passed out.
***TRIGGER WARNING***
It's all blurred, but I remember his face, even to this day. I struggled, but was too wasted to really fight back. Once the booze wore off, and I fully realized what happened, I told my mom, and we went to the hospital and called the police. That's what you're supposed to do, right? Of course, the hospital had determined that something had happened, as there was evidence of tearing, and I was most definitely not a virgin before it happened. Would that not be evidence of force?
As with any investigation, the police interviewed everyone that was at the party, including HIM. I was able to pick him out from an old yearbook. He had previously attended the school. My "friends" didn't see anything other than me being completely wasted, and HE said we "fooled around" but everything was consensual. In the end, the police determined there was not enough evidence to press charges, and they wonder why women don't report rape?
When I returned to school, I immediately wished I hadn't. Those who I thought were my "friends" not only turned their backs on me, but turned against me. See, when I reported the rape to police, I not only accused their friend of rape, but I alerted the police to underage drinking. So now, I was an outcast.
"Whore"
"Slut"
"Next Morning Regret"
"Only claiming rape because I don't want my boyfriend to know I cheated."
When I needed them the most, they made me feel worse. My mom had tried to make me feel better. Took me to buy new clothes because I just didn't care anymore, sent me to get my nails done. It didn't matter. Because I let every word they said simmer inside me.
Finally, my mom pulled some strings, and I was able to "skip" the last bit of school because I was helping her and I was at the top of my class. After graduation, I didn't care if I ever saw any of them again.
Whether it was their words, or the need to regain the control over my body that was taken from me, I went off to college 700 miles away and became exactly what they called me.
The first three years of college, I slept with more men than I can even count. My bed was a revolving door, so to speak. One night stands. Friends with benefits. Lots of empty, meaningless, sex. Because that's what I was... or thought I was.
I spent those three years doing other things. I changed majors about a half dozen times, I joined the military, and started smoking cigarettes. Being 700 miles away from home, my family had no idea how much I was struggling. I had a few exclusive relationships. One guy I was "dating" wanted to do a three-some with me and my roommate. I obliged, and regretted it. Seeing how much pleasure he gave her, when I experienced none, made me spiral more. We broke up, and my roommate set me up with an acquaintance of hers.
***TRIGGER WARNING***
I cannot say that I regret the relationship, but it set me on a path that nearly killed me... either by his hands or my own. He was an alcoholic, and like all my relationships, it was sexual on day one. Unlike the others, he took note that it brought me no pleasure. He wanted to change that, by any means necessary. I'll spare you the details, as it is a part of my life I still struggle to come to terms with myself. In attempts to make me feel pleasure, he made me feel something else... pain. Every day, several times a day. When he was too drunk, he always had the help of his little blue pills. I thought if I faked it, he would hurry up and leave me alone, but he knew I was faking, and it only made him more persistent. I made the mistake of sharing how upset I was, seeing my "boyfriend" with my roommate. To "fix" that, he invited his friend over and, well, it became a round robin. One holding me down while the other took a turn until I thought I would die. He seemed to enjoy my pain.
Of course, it was my fault, as everything was, and he didn't know if he could ever look at me the same again. I know I couldn't look at myself the same. He was cold, bitter, and hateful.
Then, I ended up pregnant, and of course, it was all my fault. "It wasn't his." "I skipped my birth control to try to trap him." "I shouldn't tell anyone in case something happened."
Well, I told my mom. I didn't tell her everything, but I told her enough that she opened up to me about a part of her former life that I was now living. You see, my mom had divorced my sister's father because he was abusive and she finally realized that if she didn't leave, she would probably die. She said that the decision was mine, but I had to think of the future of my child. What would her life be, growing up in that kind of environment?
That was the motivation I needed. Picturing my child growing up in that house, I couldn't do it. I moved out and lived in a motel until I could move back home.
Of course, I had to endure continued accusations. My biggest fear was that a paternity test would show he wasn't my daughter's father. What would I tell my parents?
Of course, like I knew, he was her father, but that doesn't mean he accepted her. There were still accusations that I was just a gold digger, It's been hard, and it has led to a lot of other issues. I still find no pleasure in sex, and in fact the idea of "pleasure" is a hard limit for me. Too much of a "good thing" can become a very bad thing, and can scar a person for life. My husband knows this, understands this, and accepts it. We compromise. That is my reality.
How does this all relate back to bullying?
Would my life had been any different had my friends supported me, instead of turning their backs and turning against me?
I don't know, maybe?
But since I know what it's like to have your friends turn their backs on you when you need them most, I refuse to do it to others.
Because of this, I have been targeted twice within the Episode community.
I refused to turn my back on a person that someone else didn't like or had problems with, and for that I was targeted. Sadly enough, the person I refused to turn my back on the first time was the one of the ones who targeted me the second time.
A disagreement between two people is just that... a disagreement between TWO people.
When you drag all your friends into it, and force them to choose sides, you are taking away their free will. You are holding your friendship as hostage for their compliance.
I have been forced to do things against my will enough times in my life, that I will not do it anymore.
Not for love.
Not for friendship.
Not for popularity.
Not for anything.
That is my truth.
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