Right before I went into 7th grade, my dad got remarried. I was excited to have a mother. Someone to teach me things, help me deal with all the mean girls, all the drama, help me out in school, teach me how to be who I am - someone to be my role model. And for a while it was great.
I got in trouble like every other teenager, dealt with the drama of who didn't do this right, dealt with the rumors, the gossip, the put downs, being an outcast. I was eager and willing to give her a chance to be the mother I'd always wanted, but that I'd never had. She helped me to know how to do things without being angry when I did them wrong, as it was when it was just my dad, my brother and I. He worked late hours, didn't have time to really be with us kids. That was fine, it seemed to be normal, and I adapted. I got used to being by myself, and learned to enjoy it. I preferred it then, as I do now. But having a mom around was like finding something you had lost and didn't think you'd ever find again. It was great.
Then the summer before 8th grade, she decided that she had had enough of us, of dealing with the shit that we had to go through, because she realized that she didn't want to have two other kids - it was like we meant nothing. We didn't really know as a family how to deal with it, or how to help.
But again, I was the good kid. The one that always had to take up the responsibilities, try to make things as best as I could. Or at least that is the way that I saw it, how I felt.
Some part of me must have known that she wouldn't stay, and that having a mother again was too good to be true. When she left, I think it didn't hurt me as much as it could have, because I had never really let her in. It was really easy for me to pick up and move on, and to get excited about going to High School. that is the time of your life when you are supposed to figure things out, find out what you want to do, and that's when colleges start looking at you. It was something for me to look forward to - a way for me to shine.That was really the only thing that I could control - school and academics.
I was nervous of course about starting a whole new school than I would have gone to before. It meant that the kids I had gone to middle school with wouldn't be around anymore, and that I would get the chance to finally be who I wanted to be. Anyone.
I had started self harming, and had a low self image by then, but if I acted like I didn't care on the outside, then maybe that would eventually become who I was on the inside. This worked for a while, but the bullying continued. I still had a low self image, I didn't belong, and at the time, it seemed like the only option I had to cope was self harm. Big mistake.
I was invisible to mostly everyone. Nobody ever thought that I might end up self harming. They never thought to check, because I got straight A's, I had goals, I was very driven. I'm a very good liar, and every time someone even suspected it, I was quick to dispel it. Until one day when a very good friend I'll call A caught on, and refused any excuse I could come up with. She didn't want to believe that I was okay, and I have to say that I am grateful to her because she helped me through it. She had no way of knowing why I did the things I did, but she tried her best to help me through my depression. And for a while that worked. I shifted my focus to school, not being social. I was doing the best I could to try to make things easier for everyone else. If I got good grades, then that was one less thing that people had to worry about. I was the good kid. I wasn't too interested in making friends anyways, because people never stick around, and I didn't want to be hurt again. I was having enough to deal with, I was better off on my own. Or so I though. But that couldn't stop what was to happen, it could only break the fall a little bit. I made one very good friend that year, and she still sticks by me to this day. We have our moments where it feels like I'm on my own, or like she's gonna leave and I'll be left alone, but I'm working on that.
Even though I vowed to never let people in again, that didn't stop me. All was good in life, for a while. I had survived Freshman year, and overcoming the self harm that I had suffered with for 2 years helped me become a lot stronger. Though I may never truly forgive myself for that, my scars remind me every day that I can overcome anything. They remind me that even when I had sunk so low and thought I was alone, I came out through it and am a stronger person because of it. I am me.
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