Should you forgive your bully?

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I’ve been thinking a lot about forgiveness lately. I’m always very willing to accept apologies. My mom sees that as a sign of weakness, that I’ll just let them walk all over me again. In her defense, I did that. A lot.

But is it weakness?

I was talking to my best friend about my ninth grade bully. I’ve mentioned her before on this blog so I won’t get into the whole story again. But a mutual friend of ours told me recently that she’s a different person now and I think my response was “okay” or “that’s nice.”

While I have no intention of seeing her, talking to her, or even forgiving her, I started thinking of what it would be like if I did forgive her. Could I forgive her? Should I? Would I be able to hang out with her again if she truly was a different person now?

No, I couldn’t. I may forgive her one day but I could never forget what she put me through, how she made me feel, how much she hurt me and broke my heart. I could never forget the nasty things she said to me, the way she allowed her friends to treat me. One of her guy friends was so inappropriate with me, touching me inappropriately (which he only did once and I didn’t realize it was wrong until recently) asking if I was a virgin, at one point asking some question about my vagina (though I don’t remember what the question was specifically) and when I refused to answer, he posted on Facebook talking about my vagina anyway. Granted, he did that to pretty much everyone but it was never okay any of the times he did it to anyone. And she allowed it. She criticized me, made fun of me, and allowed her friends to do the same.

I could never forget that, ever. It’s still too much for me to forgive at this point. However, I believe I could get there one day and it’s important that I do. All these years and she still has power over me and that’s not a good thing. In times like these, you have to learn to forgive and push that mess onto their side. Let them have that burden. Push all that garbage onto their side, free yourself. It will definitely take time. It’s been eight years and I still haven’t reached that point. I wouldn’t recommend waiting eight years to find your peace. I’m not sure eight years is all that healthy but I’m also working on getting healthy mentally and emotionally.

I still am somewhat victorious though. I may not have found my peace a hundred percent, but I have the knowledge that she did not break me. I’m happy (sometimes) and I have friends that treat me well and I have fun with them. I have people in my life that actually like me. Sometimes you have little victories that get you through it. Forgiveness isn’t always important. I think there are certain circumstances where that isn’t an option. But sometimes it is and sometimes it helps. I realized my mom was wrong. Forgiveness isn’t weakness. In some cases, it helps you heal. Maybe one day I can forgive that girl, let her have that burden, let her live with the things she put me through. We can’t carry the burden forever. Eventually, the people who hurt us will have to take it whether they want to or not.

Stay strong.

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Being in love for the first time

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This wasn’t something I ever wanted to talk about just because I was afraid that the guy I’m about to discuss would see this and know it was me. But then I realized that with ten followers and a tiny little blog, how could this possibly get back to him? See, now that I’ve said that, it’ll get back to him.

For the sake of privacy and making it much harder for this to find its way back to him, we won’t be mentioning any names.

As I’ve said before, I’m 22 years old. And in those 22 years, I’ve never had a boyfriend, never kissed a guy, never even held hands with one. The last time I ever knew about a guy liking me was back in the third grade. If a guy has liked me since then, I had no clue. So, how would I know what being in love feels like? I always thought you had to be in a relationship to actually fall in love. And maybe that’s how it goes for some people but that’s just not how it went down for me. Looking back on it, I truly believe I was in love with this man.

This was almost two years ago. I was still deep in mourning over the loss of one of my best friends, Jennifer who I have mentioned many times before in this blog. I had been laid off as well so I wasn’t in a great place. Then my dad’s friend got me a job at a store he worked at. It was seasonal but if they liked me, they would keep me permanently. So, while everyone else was stuck working up at the registers as a “bagger” so to speak (this store had items too big for regular bags so it was more of organizing things into boxes) I was placed in maintenance. Cleaning bathrooms, taking out the trash (especially by sample tables. Is it becoming more obvious where I worked?) sweeping, basically all the fun cleaning tasks no one would wanna do. Believe me, I’ve got horror stories of cleaning those bathrooms that would make you wanna die.

Anyways, it felt good to keep busy despite the grossness I encountered. I had a place to go every day, although I never had a chance to make friends there. No one really talked to me, although with my social anxiety, being approachable isn’t easy. I only knew my dad’s friend and he’s as quiet as I am. I grew up with the guy and barely speak to him.

But the first few days, I kept to myself. Cleaned the bathrooms and swept the store every half an hour, took out the trash, cleaned off the trash can lids because people don’t know how to throw things away neatly…sorry, gotta move on before I start ranting. Not the time, not the time.

So, everyone had a radio so we could all communicate. The managers called me over the radio to do a clean up in one of the aisles. I had to hurry and get my mop and paper towels because whoever discovered the spill had to stand there and wait for me to get there. So, after battling with the mop bucket (anyone ever tried to steer a mop bucket? Am I the only one who struggles to keep that thing going straight?)

And that’s when I met him. I definitely noticed he was attractive but I don’t remember thinking too much of him at that time. But most of the time, when I came to clean the spill, the person who was waiting for me would just leave and continue with their own job. But he didn’t do that. He actually took my paper towels from me and started wiping up the spill and he was joking around. It was very sweet of him to help me like that, especially when he was kinda the only one who did in the three months I worked there.

After that brief exchange, he actually started acknowledging me, mostly making jokes with me and making me laugh. And I saw him constantly because I had to take the trash to the trash compactor which was in the back where he worked most of the time. After a few weeks, I started realizing that I was developing a crush on him, which I definitely did not want because the last time I crushed on a coworker…let’s just say that didn’t end well. That’s a story I probably won’t ever tell.

But anyways, I didn’t realize it was growing into more right away. But he was just so sweet. One day, when a customer said I looked like Mia Wallace from Pulp Fiction (basically Uma Thurman with short, dark brown hair with bangs. I had bangs at the time and I was wearing dark lipstick that day.) and when I told him, he said she was cute so that was a compliment. In my stupid little head, all I could think was, “Did he just indirectly say I’m cute?”

And in the break room, there were about six tables, maybe seven. Two of them were full and no one really talked to me so I just sat by myself in one of them empty tables. Him and I started our shifts at the same time so we had breaks around similar times. He could’ve sat in any of the other empty tables. But he stops right in front of my table and asks if he can sit with me. Granted, most people wouldn’t find that too interesting and trust me, I didn’t look into it. It was just nice that with two tables full of people he knew and several other empty tables, he wanted to sit with me.

He treated me so differently than most guys I knew. While I enjoy joking around with my guy friends, they tend to be…a little harsh sometimes. And I’m equally harsh. But with him, he didn’t make jokes at my expense. He was easy to have fun with. There was something special about him. One of the first things I notice about people is their smile. That’s my favorite thing about people is their smile. And he just had the kind of smile that reached his eyes, like there was happiness in his eyes. He smiled like he was happy to see you. I could’ve gotten lost in those eyes. I looked forward to seeing that smile every day.

But then things changed. One day, we were talking and he mentioned his age and under the assumption that he was in his late twenties, I asked him how old he was. He was thirty-five. Now, that just made me like him even more. I tend to gravitate towards older guys so he suddenly became the perfect package. Then he asked me how old I was and I told him I was twenty. And the moment I told him that, the way he interacted with me changed. He was never mean, he didn’t ignore me, it just seemed like he had distanced himself a little.

And shortly after that, the seasonal period was over and I wasn’t asked to stay permanently. I went a good six months without seeing him after that but I could not get him out of my head. When I told my current coworker and friend all about him, she just kinda laughed and asked me if I was in love with him. I told her I wasn’t sure but she seemed pretty damn sure herself that I was.

I’ve seen him occasionally since then and he still recognizes me and says hi to me with that smile I fell for every single time. When my mom finally saw him for the first time, he was moving cases of water from a cart to their display. She told me when he saw me, he slowed down. She said his body language changed. I wasn’t gonna look too much into it because it would be just too good to be true that someone I liked actually liked me back.

The last time I spoke to him was maybe a month ago and that’s when I realized that I think what I felt for him was love. I could be wrong but I think I had been in love with him. The last time we spoke, it was so awkward and uncomfortable for the both of us. And when I left, I knew that whatever I felt for him was never going to become anything. And I was so heartbroken. And I wasn’t sad because he didn’t like me or anything like that. I felt like I’d missed out on something that could’ve been great because I was too afraid to put myself out there and find out. I felt like I’d been given every chance to make something happen and I didn’t do it and it was too late. I was heartbroken because I think I actually was in love with him.

This isn’t gonna be one of those things where I say to tell someone how you feel because you never know. Because it’s just not that simple. In my case, maybe he did feel the same way but the age difference made him hesitate. Maybe he was shy like me. Maybe we were both waiting for the other person to make a move and neither of us will. But it had taken me a year to realize I was in love. I thought you had to be dating someone to develop those kinds of feelings. But you don’t. Your heart has more control than you realize. I think a lot of it was just denial. I wasn’t in the greatest place at the time and I thought it was possible that I was just caught up in the happiness he made me feel after feeling like shit for months. But sometimes it takes a while to figure out what’s going on in your heart.

How do you know you’re in love? I don’t think there’s one set answer to that question. I think it’s just different for everyone. It really is one of those things you just…know. My suggestion? Don’t live in denial about it. It’s a lot easier to just accept it. I have to live with my mistakes and try to move on. Not that I’ve got a line of guys waiting to date me but I still should let go and move on despite how hard it is. This just shows how sad I am, doesn’t it? Hahahah didn’t even date him but it’s so hard for me to move past him. Sad, sad little girl.

I had hoped that my first love would be someone I dated. I would hope that the first time I was in love, it would be with someone who loved me back. But I had such an idea of what my life would be like and so far, I’ve been wrong every single time. But even if the first person we fall in love with isn’t “the one” they do have a special place. Always. You never forget the people you loved. My parents divorced back in 1999 when I was just four, but I know they will always have love for each other. That’s just the way love works, it stays there forever. It just changes.

I will always be grateful to that man. He was the only one who really reached out to me at that place, the one who made me feel comfortable there. Hell, if he was gonna be my first love, he definitely made it worth the sadness I feel now thinking of him. Even if it didn’t happen the way I thought it would, he brings many pleasant memories. He was one of the good guys, one of the rare guys. Whoever does snatch him up, damn are they lucky.

This post seemed all over the place I realized. But those little moments were ones that just made my feelings fall into place. The ones that made the happiest. I had a point to this story but it kinda got lost in my own lovesick bullshit. Watch, he’ll find this and then I’m screwed because I come off like an obsessed little teenager. I’m too young, what the fuck do I know about love, right?

Weight Struggles Part 2: Self control is hard

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Hey there! I’m back! I’ve been pretty busy lately…kinda. As busy as I can be working part time and doing nothing else with my time. I said I’d be back in a month to talk about my progress with my weight loss. And while there is progress, it’s so difficult.

First, let’s start off with good news, I lost nine pounds! I can’t really tell a difference but my mom says my shoulders look smaller? My torso in general is getting smaller according to her. My main goals are making my stomach and boobs smaller so that’s a step in the right direction. She also said my butt was getting smaller which was kind of a bummer since…I kinda like how my butt looks (in jeans haha) but if I gotta sacrifice my butt for a healthy body, well…bye booty.

But let’s talk about self control because honey…I don’t fucking have any. That’s the problem with working at a grocery store…all the tasty treats are there and I have the biggest sweet tooth. My ultimate weakness is anything chocolate & peanut butter. That’s all I crave nowadays is chocolate & peanut butter. So basically Reese’s and peanut butter M&Ms. And peanut butter brownies and…well…you get it.

I think self control might be easier if I didn’t still live at home. But I do and my mom…love her to pieces but I get my lack of self control from her. I could be doing really well and then my step-dad brings home Panda Express and I hate myself while devouring honey walnut shrimp and bitterly enter it into my fitness app, grumbling “I know I know” when it tells me that honey walnut shrimp is bad for me.

I had originally planned to eat a chicken breast and some steamed broccoli for dinner every night. But the problem with that is…this is so embarrassing…my mom doesn’t let me use her stove. Yes, you heard that right. I’m 22 years old and am not allowed to cook for myself. I don’t get it either.

So, I have a bunch of chicken breasts in the freezer that are probably gonna continue to sit there until I move out or they go bad, whichever comes first. But in any case, my mom doesn’t make unhealthy dinners so I can’t complain. Although I did have hamburger gravy for dinner tonight and that cannot be good for you, can it?

Making lunches for work is pretty easy. Just make a wrap with a tortilla and regular oven roasted turkey, light string cheese, some Blue Diamond almond nut thins, handful of almonds, an orange, and some ginger snaps. I’m still debating whether I should keep having oranges. I’m that kinda person that doesn’t get bored of eating the same thing every single day. I can have my chicken and broccoli every single night and be content.

It’s workouts I don’t wanna repeat over and over.

Now, I’ve finally found a workout routine I like and want to stick with. I found an app that must be partnered with Pop Sugar or something because all the videos on the app came from that website. And that is where I discovered Anna Renderer. I absolutely adore her. I don’t know what it is about her but I love her. But that app only gave me a few of her 30 minute workouts but luckily, Pop Sugar has a YouTube channel with even more videos. Now, I won’t do any of the workout videos she isn’t hosting. I’m petty I know. But I love her workouts, mostly because she does them with you and she’s breathing hard and she’ll get tired and it makes me feel less stupid. Like hey, she’s fit as hell and can do these moves easily but she’s getting tired and sweaty too. You’re okay.

But, my workouts I need to improve as well. If I have a work shift from 12 or earlier, I skip my workouts altogether. I don’t like starting my day and then working out in the middle of the day. It’s stupid and I really need to push past it. I mean, I used to refuse to eat breakfast after 10:00 when I was a kid and I got past that. So, this too will pass.

I wanna start buying some exercise equipment over the next few months. Like, resistance bands, medicine balls, jump ropes, things like that. I wanna try different things and the circuit training I did in high school had the resistance bands and medicine balls and the stepper things, which I already have. I think that kind of circuit training would be very effective but I’m not in a huge rush to get all that stuff since I have my circuit training I do currently. Like I said, I hate doing the same workouts over and over again so I like to keep things fresh. And I keep saying I’m gonna start walking/jogging but I have yet to actually do that. I’m thinking these things will be easier to accomplish when I’m moved out of my mom and step-dad’s house.

But, when you’re working part time at 10.90 an hour, those things just don’t happen. Maybe one day I’ll stop with the self doubt and self loathing and actually write that book my parents keep telling me to finish. Instead, I whine about it on this blog. Makes sense, right? Duh.

But here’s a little tip for you if you’re in the same position as me. With weight loss, it’s hard, it’s discouraging sometimes when you feel like you’re not progressing. Just…don’t beat yourself up about the small shit. And I know that makes me a huge hypocrite because I was totally beating myself up for having a doughnut from the bakery at work the other day. And I’m currently downing water like a madman because in my insane little world, if I drink enough water, the two Reese’s peanut butter cups I had today will flush right out before they have a chance to hurt me. Last week was a bad week for me as well. I barely worked out, I wasn’t eating that great. I fell off the wagon a bit last week and I AM STILL THINKING ABOUT IT.

But, try not to be like me. Don’t sweat the small shit. You’re gonna have bad days and sometimes bad weeks. But just get right back on it and work hard and things will move forward. Self control is a hard thing to deal with. I have a horribly unhealthy relationship with food but that’s gonna get better with some practice and maybe in a few months I won’t crave the sweets like I do now. Just keep doing what you’re doing and if you falter, just get right back up and work harder tomorrow. Hell, that’s what I’ll be doing.

Starting weight: 215

Current weight: 206

Weight struggles

 

 

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I know, another post of weight loss to go with the THOUSANDS OF OTHERS ON THE INTERNET. But hey, I’ve got problems, alright? So, let’s start from the beginning.

I come from a family of people with shit metabolism. Yep, my entire family struggles with their weight. Every single one of them. According to my great-grandmother (RIP) the smallest size she ever fit into was a size 14 and that was because she lived in a house with a staircase. She was a curvy woman and so beautiful. My mom looks exactly like her when she was young it is fascinating and also kind of creepy because it’s literally the same face. My brother looks like my mom when she was a kid and I said if he’d been born a girl, he probably would’ve looked like our great-grandmother.

Anyways, I’m getting off topic. My parents were thin before they had kids. They were thin before they got together with their current significant others and got that happy relationship weight. Hm…my parents didn’t seem to get that happy relationship weight when they got together. Maybe that was a sign that they were doomed to divorce? Hahahaha!

But, my brother was skinny for a long time because he moves CONSTANTLY. If you’ve read my previous posts, you know that he has severe autism. So, a thing that’s common with autistic kids is rocking back and forth. Trying rocking back and forth from the time you wake up until you go to bed and you’d probably have a flat stomach too. But, the only vegetable I’ve ever seen that boy eat is corn. And the only fruit he eats is those peaches in the cups of liquid sugar. So, naturally, all the carbs and sodium he eats in a day has caught up with him and he’s getting fat. I’m low key happy to see him gain weight because I’ve been the chubby sibling my entire life. Before anyone gets upset, he’s been to the doctors for many check-ups and his health is top notch despite his diet. Lucky bastard.

Then, there’s me. Now, this is strictly an opinion and please correct me if I’m wrong. But I tend to believe that the 90’s kids were almost like the last generation that didn’t rely on internet and technology for entertainment. I don’t think I even touched our computer until 2001-2002. And even then, I spent so much time outside, taking a walk around the block with my step-dad, riding my scooter up and down the sidewalk while my mom and I waited for my brother’s bus to drop him off from school. I was very active until probably the fifth grade when I didn’t play outside as much anymore. Then the weight piled on. It was very gradual. By the time I was 13, I was 130-140. Then I was 150, then 160. I was 18 years old and 209 pounds. And I’m 5’7″ and I know that was not a good weight for me to be. So, I went and lost 30 pounds and noticed the difference in my face and the way my clothes looked on me.

But, then I got lazy, I started working and thought that would be enough exercise. Pushing carts for 2-3, sometimes 4 hours a day would give you that impression. However, that’s only the case if you DON’T, buy cartons of ice cream with the paycheck you now receive every week.

Currently, I am 215 pounds. Not only did I gain the weight I lost back in 2014, I’m six pounds heavier than when I started. And I know it’s my fault. I don’t move a lot, I eat a lot of carbs (pasta is probably the love of my life) and I absolutely detest vegetables. But, I’ve got diabetes in my family, I have heartburn all the time, I have a round belly that I can’t stand, I hate the way my arms look in tank tops, I hate the cellulite in my legs, I hate the way my arms jiggle and flap when I move them, I hate that I’ve never been able to do a push-up that’s not modified, I hate that I can’t run a simple four laps without feeling like I’m gonna pass out, I hate it all. I made the decision to get off my ass and do something about it. And although I don’t recommend picking apart every one of your flaws, the self loathing has been part of my motivation.

And I’m being realistic about it. I know that even if I did end up with a flat stomach and toned arms and legs, that I’d still find something about myself that I hate. I don’t think we as humans will ever be 100% happy with ourselves. And even though I’m a huge hypocrite for saying this, you should still be kind to yourself during this weight loss process. Is body positivity a bad thing? Not necessarily. But at the same time, we shouldn’t be glamorizing unhealthy habits whether you’re too big or too small. But just remember that just because someone is heavier, it doesn’t mean they’re loaded with health problems. And don’t assume a skinny person is healthy. And someone can still feel beautiful whether they’re heavy or skinny. Everyone deserves to be confident even if they’re still working on their body.

The question becomes…do I feel beautiful?

Sometimes.

Sometimes I don’t.

And that’s just fine. Everyone’s got good days and they’ve got bad days. But I’m working on having more good days than bad days. I’m working on getting fit. I’m exercising every morning, eating as healthy as possible. (I did cheat this week and had some Panda Express for lunch…oops. Damn my lack of self control)

I even found a way to eat vegetables. I have found that I can tolerate broccoli if it’s steamed until it’s practically mush. It’s mostly the consistency of veggies I can’t stand. But I try not to be too hard on myself. I allow myself the weekend to indulge a little bit and then get strict again during the week. But even if a slip up during the week, I try not to beat myself up over it. That’s the most important part, folks. Go easy on yourself. It’s not gonna be the easiest thing to accomplish 100% of the time. Sometimes, you’re gonna fuck up. Unless you’re that person who hates junk food and loves eating healthy in which case get the fuck out we can’t be friends. Hahahahahaha!!!!

Well, we’ll see where we are next month, yeah?

Current weight: 215

Goal weight: 130

Dealing with bullies

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Hey, I’m back.

Coming up with topics to discuss becomes more and more difficult. I’m not sure if I’ve ever mentioned this, but my life isn’t that interesting. But I do have stories to tell. I have my thoughts and opinions so, here’s something to discuss.

Bullying.

Now, my story is nowhere near as bad as most people. I hadn’t even realized in the moment that my bully was treating me as badly as she was. I didn’t know how truly miserable I was. Funny thing is, she used to be my friend.

It started with little things that no one really thinks about. She always had to be above me. Even her boobs had to be perkier than mine. I shit you not, she literally said to me, “your boobs are bigger than mine but mine are perkier.”

Insulted the music I listened to, the celebrity crushes I had, while also getting pissed off when I did the same. She listened to shit like My Chemical Romance and Fall Out Boy. To this day, the song “Teenagers” by MCR makes me cringe. Basically anything by that band makes me cringe.

Anyways, then it turned into anything she could insult, she did. She also had some kind of obsession with my boobs because she insisted I needed a pushup bra. We were fourteen at the time. What fourteen-year-old needs a pushup bra? Although…it seems fourteen year olds these days are trying to grow up quicker than they did when I was at that age. I’m amazed by how much things change in just a few years. BUT ANYWAYS, we’ll discuss that issue another time.

She made fun of me for wanting to see my dad instead of her. My parents are divorced and at the time, I only saw him every other weekend. Those weekends were precious to me and I didn’t want to give them up considering all she wanted to do was smoke weed and have “kick backs” as she called them. I would’ve been given such hell for not wanting to take part in those things.

She made fun of the clothes I wore. My school had a uniform. You could only wear white, khaki, or navy blue. I don’t know about where you guys shop but it was impossible for me to find anything in those colors that was cute. The only khaki skirt I could find was this awful corduroy thing that clung to my legs. I wore it with this surprisingly cute navy blue blouse that had this cute little belt that came with it. Put on my favorite pair of boots and I felt so good about it.

And what did she do? She said it wasn’t flowy enough, it was ugly. In the ninth grade, I had a crush on this guy and she knew it. She says to me after completely tearing me apart for wearing this skirt, “Don’t you want [crush’s name] to love you?”

I was totally crushed. At the time, yeah, I wanted that guy to like me. I never wore that skirt again. It hung in my closet for the next four years. My senior year I thought I’d wear the skirt as a big middle finger to the bitch but by then, it didn’t fit me anymore. I’d gained at least thirty pounds between 2009 and 2013. Oh well. At least the idea came to me I suppose.

She never put her hands on me, thankfully. Although one boy in that group kicked me, ridiculed me, and he did touch my boob a few times. He was…handsy and weird. He had problems. But anyways, as I was saying, she never put her hands on me but she did fling a meatball at me in an attempt to stain my white shirt. The meatball hit my boot which luckily was (fake) leather and I could just wipe it off. Even the people who hung out with her that hated me were made uncomfortable by that. I said to her, “These boots are expensive! What the hell are you thinking?!”

Her response?

“Why would you wear sixty dollar boots to school?”

“Well, I’m not exactly expecting people to fling food at me!”

She made me feel disgusting when I told her I’d attempted masturbation (TMI? Yep.) I didn’t go anywhere near my crotch for years because she made me feel stupid. She also made me afraid of breaking my hymen with my finger but that’s a whole separate issue involving a lack of education on the female body.

She made fun of me because I wasn’t as wild as her. I sought that group’s approval to a point where I made up a boyfriend just so they’d like me. I begged my best friend to go along with it because they asked her. I’m pretty sure they knew I was full of shit but for a moment, they were nice to me. I hated going to school. I felt worthless, I felt ugly, I felt stupid, I felt weak. I tried so hard to be liked by them. I had one friend tell me she didn’t want to get involved in “Drama between her friends” and my other friend still took me to their hangout spot when I asked them if we could not hang out with them at lunch. I was ignored. I had one best friend through it all that went to a different high school. I considered transferring to her school for a while but I didn’t want to leave my one friend who couldn’t give me that break from those people at lunchtime. One of my biggest regrets is not transferring and getting away from it sooner. I could’ve saved myself the trouble.

The friends I had saw it as drama. And they made me see it that way too. I thought it was just a couple of friends fighting a lot. I wanted to hurt them and that wasn’t normal. I had this idea of what their friendship was, I didn’t realize that my desire to hurt them wasn’t normal. I had no idea what they were doing to me.

Eventually, that girl dropped out of school, did one of those homeschooling things. I forget what it was called but it was one of those drop-out kinda deals. She did try to fuck with me sometime in junior year but by then I (and everyone else) had pretty much gotten over her bullshit. She claimed that the guy I liked in ninth grade wanted to hook up with her to “piss me off” whether this is true or not I’ll never know. I said, “I haven’t even liked him since the ninth grade. Have at it. Congrats.”

She mentioned it a second time. I’ll never forget it. I came into the hallway in the morning before first period and as I came around the corner, she was talking to one of her friends. She turned to look at me and the moment she laid eyes on me, she stopped talking and started grinning. In the back of my mind, I knew what she was doing so I simply smiled back and said, “What’re you so happy about?”

She said, “[former crush’s name] is coming over today.”

I responded with, “Oh that’s nice,” and then I saw my friend outside sitting at our hangout spot and I left her. She never mentioned hooking up with that guy again. She lost control and I think she knew it. I couldn’t be hurt by her anymore.

It wasn’t until senior year, close to graduation when I realized how miserable I was back then. It brought me to tears. How in the world had I endured such abuse? I’m not entirely sure. Hell, you could be reading this story of mine thinking I’m so overdramatic. With all the terrible bullying most people go through, what happened to me isn’t nearly as bad. Was I bullied? I’m not sure. I don’t feel comfortable answering that. That’s up to those of you reading this to decide I suppose.

My friend that “didn’t want to get involved in drama” is still friends with that girl to this day. I haven’t laid eyes on that girl since I was seventeen. My friend and that girl are now living together. She told me that the girl is a totally different person now. I said to her, “That’s nice,” but said nothing more. I hope I never have to lay eyes on that girl again. I’m not sure if she realizes how manipulative and mean she was. I wasn’t the only person she did this to. I’m still friends with someone who was once in that group. She told me that this girl was in fact manipulative and treated her friends like an army. She kinda just went with it. Does that make it right? No. But on some level, I understand it. That girl that I’m still friends with today…we didn’t get along when we first met. We were already tense around each other at the time. That girl made it a hundred times worse. We’re great now, but I’m relatively certain that this girl played off that tension.

Now…have I overcome this? I still think about it a lot. I still think about what person I could’ve been if this had never happened. I’m a naturally submissive, passive person. But I’d like to think I’m a lot stronger now despite what my mom might think.

I’m not one to get physical. I think the best revenge is simple. Happiness, success. I have a job with coworkers I love. I’m…well…working on getting my life together. She’s nothing to me now. Do I care that she’s a different person now? A little. At least I know she’s no longer treating people the way she treated me. At least the next person to enter her life won’t endure what I did. But that doesn’t mean I want her anywhere near my life. I have friends now that I don’t have to try and make them like me. They poke fun at me for the celebrities I like or the music I listen to but it’s all in good fun. It wasn’t fun with her. It was miserable. And I wish I could tell her all these things so she could live with the misery she caused. But, I have to grow up too. We have to realize that there are just going to be people like that in this world. The world is rough, full of bumpy roads and ways to trip us up. Twists and turns, plenty of ways to get lost. There are going to be people that test us, that try to distract us. But we have to fight back. It’s easier said than done. But as long as you’re alive, you’re winning. As long as you’re trying, you’re winning. And no one can take that away from you.

For more information on bullying, head over to stopbullying.gov

And as always, if you see someone getting picked on, don’t hesitate to stand up for them. It doesn’t matter if it’s people your friends with. Don’t ever play it off as “drama between two friends” LISTEN TO YOUR FRIENDS. Listen to everyone. It may sound silly when your friend asks you to hang out in a different spot at lunchtime. But don’t ignore them. I was ignored. And it’s the worst feeling in the world. Always listen, stand up to bullies when you can. If you can’t, tell someone, tell an adult. You could save someone’s life.

Thanks for reading.

 

When it comes back around…

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I’ve talked about depression before. And as I said in that post, I’ve never actually been officially diagnosed mostly because if what I’m feeling really is officially depression, I don’t think I could handle it as well. In my head, if it’s just speculation, it’s less scary. And there’s also the fact that I’m not sure who to go to for a diagnosis. Do I go to my regular doctor? Or do I have to set up an appointment with a psychologist? Anyways, that’s not the point of this post here today, folks.

In my last post, I said that I was doing a lot better and I was. And silly little me thought that I’d moved past it. It’s over, right? The storm has passed and I can move along as normal, right? As with my best friend, Jennifer’s death, I learned the hard way that I was wrong. And we all know how much I hate to be wrong.

This past week has been rough. I’m not even sure what’s wrong with me to be honest. I’ve been thinking about Jennifer more than usual lately. I’m not really sure why but she’s been weighing heavily on my mind. I don’t know, maybe I’m overwhelmed by work? Maybe being off birth control is resetting my hormones and it’s all out of sorts now? I feel like I need a reason to feel so low but I just don’t have one. And how do you talk to people about it when you have no reasons? How do you tell your coworkers you don’t have the energy to work but you’re not even sure why? But, it’s brought up an interesting point and a flaw I have.

My flaw being that I can’t say no to people. A coworker of mine had a family thing come up suddenly and she left work early yesterday, was given today off by our boss. And guess who the boss asked to come in at 5:00 in the morning on her day off? That’s right, me. And I said yes because it was so heavy and I didn’t have the heart to say no all those things considered. But my other coworker and I talked this morning when I told her I wish I’d said no.

She told me we need to take care of ourselves first. And, despite what my mom may tell you, I hate to let people down, I hate to be seen as unreliable, I hate to be the one to ask for help. I just wanna help other people and it’s caused me to not take care of myself. Unfortunately, I still live at home. And my mom basically put that idea in my head from the time I was a kid. If I dared to call off work because of my mental health, my mom would tear me apart. And so, I don’t take care of myself because I have no other choice. I suffer in silence as usual. The last person I want to admit weakness to is my boss or my coworkers. I can’t even admit my weakness to my parents or my friends.

But, the important thing is to be aware of these flaws. Once you’re aware of them, they’re easier to work on. The key to breaking a cycle is acknowledging that there is one. Now, I won’t be able to break this cycle so easily until I’m out on my own and I can take better care of myself.

And here’s another important thing to remember: we made it.

We pushed through, and we made it through the day. It was hard as fuck but we’re here. And we’re entitled to those small victories, aren’t we? I think we’ve earned the right to pat ourselves on the back and compliment ourselves. We survived another day and we’re ready to take on another. We just have to take it one day at a time. Maybe tomorrow, it’ll be better. Maybe tomorrow our heads will clear. And those are the times you wanna hold onto as tight as you can. Because when the dark times roll in again, we’ll have a reason to keep going, something to look forward to.

I don’t know. Maybe I’m just talking out of my ass again. I’m mostly just babbling, trying to convince myself that everything will be okay. But hopefully, this helps someone out there.

Fertility struggles

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Alright, before I begin, I would just like to say that I’m still not 100% certain that I’m not fertile. However, after my doctor’s appointment today, I’d like to talk about struggles with fertility and how the possibility of being infertile has made me feel recently.

So, my periods were pretty regular and rather heavy from the time I first got it around the age of twelve until I was fifteen or sixteen. Then I only got my period every few months and it was just some spotting. I know, in the perfect world, you’d barely get periods which is what I initially thought. But, after a while it was kind of concerning. I was getting my periods and now I’m not? What?

Of course, doctors offered me no answers. In 2011, I got some bloodwork done to figure out what was going on while also putting me on birth control. For the record, I didn’t get the results of the bloodwork until today. But more on that later.

In my mind, I thought that maybe I’d been on birth control long enough that maybe my period was regular now. But…no. So I went to the doctor today. Something must be wrong, right? I was thinking the worse. PCOS? Cysts on my ovaries? Or maybe I didn’t have any eggs left. I’m only twenty-two but as I said, I was thinking worst case scenario.

So, I went in today and told the doctor everything. She showed me my bloodwork from 2011. All my hormone levels were normal. However, my testosterone levels were a bit high. Normal for a woman looked to be thirty-six or thirty-seven and I was at forty. That seemed odd to me but the doctor didn’t appear to be shocked or really comment on it so I figured that must not be a big deal so I stayed quiet. She gave me a pelvic exam to make sure everything felt alright. She was hesitant to do so since I’ve never had sex and I don’t use tampons. Guys, if you’re feeling uncomfortable right now, I give you my permission to leave and have a good day and I’m not taking it personally.

By the way, her hesitance to give me the pelvic exam was justified because I swear it felt like I was being torn. BUT ANYWAYS, I felt it needed to be done just in case there were any abnormalities she could fell. But as far as the physical part, I’m normal. She didn’t send me to get bloodwork which I wish I’d asked for.

So, she basically tells me that some women don’t ovulate every single month and some women only ovulate every 3-5 months. So, if I ever tried to get pregnant, my window is much smaller than most women but it is possible.

Here is why that answer PISSES ME OFF. Because that’s probably the third time I’ve gotten that answer and it’s just not enough. My main mistake was not going to a gynecologist. I should’ve just done that. I’ve figured out that the “some women don’t ovulate every month” answer is basically their way of saying “I have no fucking clue what’s wrong with you.”

I know this isn’t a huge issue. I’m only twenty-two after all. I’m not even close to having any kids. I don’t have a boyfriend yet for crying out loud. The problem is that I’ve always wanted to be a mother. Ever since I was a little kid, I knew I wanted to be a mother. Hell, I’ve got names picked out. And I never thought this would ever happen to me. It’s extremely frightening. The doctor said if I ever did get pregnant, would I be able to carry the baby to term? When I did get my period, it was spotting. I barely bled at all. Would that affect anything? I don’t know because I was too busy trying to not cry to ask the doctor anything.

Her only solution was for me to simply get back on the birth control pill. However, the depression I was feeling was only intensified by the pill. It could be that the pill was the actual cause of it. I’m not entirely sure but I do know that since I’ve gotten off it, I’ve felt a lot better emotionally and I don’t really want to get back on it if I don’t have to. If I become sexually active, obviously I’m going to get on it. If you can take the pill (I know some people, it makes them physically sick and some people suicidal) then please, please, please take it and use condoms. Protect yourself!

She said to give my body another two or three months to allow my body to reset since I’ve been on the pill for the last six years or so. I don’t want to panic yet. I want to believe that I’ll be alright. But I can’t shake the feeling that the one thing I want in this life will be the one thing I won’t be able to have. When the third month passes and I inevitably don’t start my period, I’ll go to a gynecologist, get some REAL answers instead of another bullshit “You’re normal don’t worry” answer.

So…I suppose this is the part where I give my advice? Well…I wish I had some. I’m still trying to process the idea that having children will be extremely difficult or won’t happen at all. How does one deal with that? I’ll get back to you on that one my friends. I’m still trying to figure that one out myself.