Nevertheless We Persisted

Dear Mean Girls,
I am not a beating post. I am a person. You don’t know me. Who do you think I am? You say that I’m a freak. You say that I’m weird. You say that I know nothing and that I’m am worthless. You say you hate me, that you wish that I was dead. It is so hard, because you don’t know how much that stings. You don’t know me at all.
You say that I’m weird, but what you don’t understand is what I have been through. Have you been abused by the people who raised you? Have you ever had someone shoot you down, throwing a wet blanket on all of your dreams? Are you worried that one of these days, you are going to black out and not wake up? Are you afraid that one of these days you are going to cut yourself so deep that you bleed?
Are you worried that you are going to do something that will get you kicked out of your home? Are you afraid that one day, you will turn around and see that your abusers are behind you, ready to hurt you again? Are you afraid that no matter what you do, you will never be enough, and you will never be good enough to mean anything to anyone? Are you worried that you are what everybody says you are, worthless, nothing, an idiot?
Have you ever cried so much that you can’t cry anymore? Have you cried yourself to sleep because the memories that you love so much hurt to remember? Have you ever run away from home? Have you ever found yourself feeling so lost that you hear your brain saying that you would be better off dead? Have you ever had to go to a mental hospital? Have you ever had to force yourself to call your therapist because you have started scratching at your arms, but you don’t even remember doing it? What about trying to tell yourself that you are okay, even when you know that you will never, ever be okay?
Did you feel like maybe you would be better off dead? Did you feel that your world was crashing down around you? Did you ever feel that if you took one wrong step, the floor will be yanked out from under you? Did you feel like your feelings didn’t matter, so you hid them, and now that you are able to show those feelings, you are afraid to let them out?
Has your mother forced you to the ground or against a wall to keep you from fighting? Has she yelled at you and hit you and called you a worthless piece of s***? Has she forced you to stay outside for hours on end in the cold in only shorts and a tee shirt? Have you ever feared for your life because of your own family?
I didn’t think so. You will never understand what I have been through. I was abused. I was traumatized. I was forced to make choices that have led me onto the path I am on now. I was forced to make the choice to leave my mother behind so that I could live a better life. I was forced to make the choice that made me who I am today. I suffer from depression, anxiety, and PTSD. This is what you will never understand about me. This is what sets us apart.
You are not me. You will never be me. Nor will I ever stoop down to your level, because if I did, I would be everything that I have tried so hard not to become. I am not going to push people around to make me feel better. I’m not. I can’t let myself go to that point. If I did, that would be when I give up who I am. I will never be the person that looks at someone who is different and laughs. I will never be the person that looks at other people as my inferiors. I will never be the person who is disrespectful to the people who show me respect. I can’t. I won’t. If you think I will, you’re dead wrong.
I understand how it feels to be pushed around. I understand how it feels to be that kid who ends up crying in the bathroom because they are afraid to show how they are feeling to others. I understand how it feels to be isolated, cut off from the rest of the world with no one but yourself at your side. I understand how it feels to be pushed to and past the edge of what you can handle. I understand how it feels to leave your old life behind you, because if you didn’t, you would be hurt again and again. I understand how it feels to fall down that slope of depression, hoping, praying, that maybe, maybe someone will hear you silent cries for help as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to rock bottom, and farther from the people how care about you. I understand what it feels like to feel yourself slipping from who you are to who everyone else wants you to be. I understand.
So, if you feel that I am going to break with everything you say, you are wrong. I am getting stronger. You are helping me get stronger, because every time you bring me down, I land back on my feet. Each stab to me feelings you take, heals over into a stronger scar. Every blow you take to my soul helps me build up my shield. Every time you make me cry, I come back ready and fighting fit. So the next time you look my way with your words and insults and snotty attitudes, you better watch out. I’m not taking anymore.
With Love and Glitter,
Krystalyn