C
csbp029
Guest
So I just suddenly remembered four years of my life and it was disturbing, but I make so much more sense to myself now. This might sound dumb but I think I was abused by my "best friend" in middle school. It started off small but by the time it was bad enough that I realized it was a problem, I didn't know what to do; I couldn't tell my parents because she said she'd REALLY hurt me then, my other friends all ditched me, and no one else appeared to notice. She'd kick, bite, hit, and slap me, and often scratched me with her nails till I bled, asking me if it hurt yet. If I was stubborn and said no, she'd keep going until I literally started crying, then tell me I was being a baby; if I caved immediately, I was really pathetic.
I couldn't do anything right, and if I could, she still did it better- except in math, where she used our teacher's insistence on study-buddies to her advantage. I tried letting my math grade slip to make her stop cheating, but when I came home with a C on my report card I got in huge trouble and was grounded for two weeks, which made me feel like a horrible person because only the bad kids in my class got grounded and at this point ALL I wanted was to feel like I could do something right. Because if anything went wrong, she found some way to blame me for it. And there was a lot more that I really don't want to think about.
By junior high I developed severe insomnia, desperately wanted to kill myself but was too scared of what would happen if I messed up and just got hurt, and I literally thought I was insane for a long time because she'd mess with my head and then convince me it was all me. By the middle of 4th grade I was officially the weirdest kid in school, which didn't help because everyone (including my siblings) made fun of me, behind my back and to my face, so I thought I really was just crap like she told me. I was secretly so excited when we got a school counselor in 5th grade; I thought "finally! someone anonymous I can talk to who can tell me if I'm crazy and who can't talk about anything I tell her!"- but we had to get a permission form signed by our parents, and at the time my parents were still super skeptical psychologists. If we kids needed to talk about anything we could talk to them. Except that I couldn't. So that shot down what I saw as my only hope.
Two of my old friends finally saw what was happening at the end of 7th grade and tried to help me, but I was too scared to accept help because this girl had decided to go to summer camp with me and I was sure she'd hurt me really badly while we were there. Thank God I had friends there too who saw the drastic difference between the real me and the scared me, and with their help, when I finally snapped it was to bitch her out once and for all.
I went back to school in the fall; I distinctly remember seeing her for the first time, wondering why we appeared not to be on speaking terms, and not really caring enough to find out. And I guess I'd just forgotten till now? Anyway. I now know why making friends is so hard, why I'm paranoid about random stuff, why I was such a strange kid for so long, why I was so often told I was like a miniature adult, why fear was the only "emotion" I could relate to for a long time, why I always blame myself for anything that goes wrong even when it's not my fault, why I was terrified of taking any kind of risk for years... because I clearly remember my early childhood and I definitely wasn't that way then. I know mine's not the most horrific of abuse stories by a long shot, and compared to some people's it's laughable, but I just want to tell anyone reading this who's being hurt that 99% of your abuser's power is mental! Reach out to other people- if you want things to change it has to start with you! If you're in that situation, you also feel horribly embarrassed that you let yourself get into that mess in the first place. Don't let that stop you from getting help.
I do have a question though- is there any any point now, ten years later, in telling my parents about this? I sort of want to just to have done it finally, but even though they were never nearly as observant as they thought they were, they've always tried to be good parents, and it would absolutely crush both of them to be told something like that.
I couldn't do anything right, and if I could, she still did it better- except in math, where she used our teacher's insistence on study-buddies to her advantage. I tried letting my math grade slip to make her stop cheating, but when I came home with a C on my report card I got in huge trouble and was grounded for two weeks, which made me feel like a horrible person because only the bad kids in my class got grounded and at this point ALL I wanted was to feel like I could do something right. Because if anything went wrong, she found some way to blame me for it. And there was a lot more that I really don't want to think about.
By junior high I developed severe insomnia, desperately wanted to kill myself but was too scared of what would happen if I messed up and just got hurt, and I literally thought I was insane for a long time because she'd mess with my head and then convince me it was all me. By the middle of 4th grade I was officially the weirdest kid in school, which didn't help because everyone (including my siblings) made fun of me, behind my back and to my face, so I thought I really was just crap like she told me. I was secretly so excited when we got a school counselor in 5th grade; I thought "finally! someone anonymous I can talk to who can tell me if I'm crazy and who can't talk about anything I tell her!"- but we had to get a permission form signed by our parents, and at the time my parents were still super skeptical psychologists. If we kids needed to talk about anything we could talk to them. Except that I couldn't. So that shot down what I saw as my only hope.
Two of my old friends finally saw what was happening at the end of 7th grade and tried to help me, but I was too scared to accept help because this girl had decided to go to summer camp with me and I was sure she'd hurt me really badly while we were there. Thank God I had friends there too who saw the drastic difference between the real me and the scared me, and with their help, when I finally snapped it was to bitch her out once and for all.
I went back to school in the fall; I distinctly remember seeing her for the first time, wondering why we appeared not to be on speaking terms, and not really caring enough to find out. And I guess I'd just forgotten till now? Anyway. I now know why making friends is so hard, why I'm paranoid about random stuff, why I was such a strange kid for so long, why I was so often told I was like a miniature adult, why fear was the only "emotion" I could relate to for a long time, why I always blame myself for anything that goes wrong even when it's not my fault, why I was terrified of taking any kind of risk for years... because I clearly remember my early childhood and I definitely wasn't that way then. I know mine's not the most horrific of abuse stories by a long shot, and compared to some people's it's laughable, but I just want to tell anyone reading this who's being hurt that 99% of your abuser's power is mental! Reach out to other people- if you want things to change it has to start with you! If you're in that situation, you also feel horribly embarrassed that you let yourself get into that mess in the first place. Don't let that stop you from getting help.
I do have a question though- is there any any point now, ten years later, in telling my parents about this? I sort of want to just to have done it finally, but even though they were never nearly as observant as they thought they were, they've always tried to be good parents, and it would absolutely crush both of them to be told something like that.