My Life
I guess I have always wanted to write my story out, my life and how I have overcome the negative outlooks.
I guess I'll start off with who I am, introduce myself to you, the reader.
My name is Isabel. I am currently 24 as of writing this and I live in Australia. I usually play video games, read, write and listen to music in my spare time. I currently don't work, my goal is to write a book that does kick off eventually and become a book writer.
Lets start from the beginning, shall we?
I am the youngest of my family out of 1 full blood sibling and 4 half siblings. Growing up, I can definitely admit, I was a very headstrong child. Stubborn, curious, adamant. From wanting to be independent to being mischievous.
I wasn't supposed to be born. My father was diagnosed with testicular cancer in early 1999, was told he would never be able to conceive anymore children. Until, my mother went to the doctors in early 2001 and was told ''You're pregnant!'' She was ecstatic but shocked and couldn't believe she had life growing inside of her, again.
I was born October 30th that year.
My sister was born premature, growing up with asthma. She liked girly things, of course she was eight years older than me so we grew up completely different. She went through all the phases a typical teenager around the 2008-2011 mark. Going through the emo phase, the scene phase and the swag era. Sneaking out, going to parties, a typical teenager rebelling against her parents.
Mind you, I wouldn't say my parents were 'strict', I would say they were overprotective. My mother and fathers worst nightmares were to find their children dead or seriously harmed. Growing up, my mother was stern but loving and protective. My father was stern, loving and carefree. They were also dealing their own issues and they worked hard to build a life for all of us.
I remember I wasn’t like other children, the girls played with pink and barbies. I played with cars and toy soldiers and when I did play with barbies, I cut their hair off and drew on them. Girls had pink and white bikes with the streamers coming out of the handles but I didn’t want that.
My dad encouraged me to just be myself, confused as to why I was different but didn't mind, it added to my character as he says. My mother was a little more concerned and didn't understand why I was so different, always trying to make me look cute in skirts and butterfly hair clips.
School in general was not my friend. When my mother dropped me off in daycare, I apparently would not calm down the entire 2 hours I was there, refused it completely. From Grade 1-4, I had trouble fitting in, making friends, I was incredibly shy.
Thankfully everyone knew my mother and eventually their children would interact with me. I had a couple of friends, good friends that stood by me. I did start to enjoy school, I was good at learning things fast, except one subject, Math. It was like gibberish to me, it frustrated me as to why it was so difficult. They tried for years to teach me. English, Art and Music were my top subjects.
Unfortunately, as I got older, puberty had to happen. Worst. Time of my life. Ever! I had no idea why I felt so shy again around boys. Why I felt so intimidated by some of the girls in school, the pretty ones. I started noticing little things that set me apart from others. I didn't try to fit in anymore, finding my own style, I stuck with the people I knew since my younger years. My group of friends liked Video Games, Anime and Cartoons, the kids in school called them 'Geeks' and 'Nerds'. There were usually 5 of us, including myself.
When I was in Grade 7, I was bullied for being 'ugly' and 'fat'. So I started to look up ways to lose my fat and look better. I started to wrap my thighs, arms and belly with saran wrap while I slept to tone my body. It turned out that my best friend since we were little kids, had been talking about me behind my back. I didn't want to believe it, that a friend could do that.
She confessed to me that she was jealous of me because boys looked at me in a certain way. I was confused as to what she was talking about since I never really noticed boys looking at me in a certain way. She said she wanted to look like me. I was shocked since I was jealous of her on how great she was that she could make conversation so easily and drew people in and become friends with people. She was bubbly and jokes were her way to draw people to her. I liked that, I liked her, I fell in love with her.
So we got closer, I helped her find the beauty in her by encouraging her, listening to her every moment she needed me. I started to see little things about her which were toxic. She was starting to lie to our friends about me and slowly they became distant. I didn't really notice it at first but when we transitioned into high school, I really noticed it.
Once we hit high school, everything changed. I was bullied for never speaking to anyone else but my friends. I was called a 'mute' and a 'weirdo' because I was different. I had developed depression, social anxiety disorder and little did I know, I was also autistic. I started to study psychological behavior and how to read people.
As most girls, I thought I really liked this boy, I wanted to know him. He used the fact that I liked him to molest me during class, clearly seeing that I was uncomfortable, I didn't want to cause a commotion or embarrass myself by asking for help, scared that no one would believe me.
I started to hang out with a new girl, she was one of his good friends. We were best friends and had a lot in common and did everything together after school. My current best friend, we'll call her, ''Sheila''. Sheila, was jealous of this, she admitted eventually. Used the silent treatment as a punishment for having a new friend. When I told my new best friend, we'll call her ''Nesta'', about the molestation, she flat out told me I was a liar and that the person who molested me, would never do such a thing. She said I was a ''slut'' and that I probably asked for it. I never heard from her again.
Rumors started by not just Nesta but Sheila as well. I tried to seek comfort around my friends, they wouldn't really take much notice of me and Sheila would just talk over me if I tried. I gave up trying to speak up, thinking I wasn't important anymore.
I had a few friends I could talk to, some girls in class were struggling with depression and I finally felt heard and understood once they showed me their self harming scars, telling me I wasn't alone. There was one person in my group who actually did notice that I wasn't okay one day when I chose to sit against the classroom walls alone, writing in my journal and listening to music. He sat beside me, watched a movie with me during lunch and made sure I was okay. I treasured that moment.
People in my class would throw things at me and laugh. Particularly the boys who were quite popular. That was my last straw and one morning, I tried to take my own life. My mother caught me and my parents decided I needed to see a counselor at the school. It didn't help, it just made it worse for bullying because it proved there was something wrong with me in front of people.
Everything that was spoken about with the counselor, we had a meeting with the current principal and he did nothing about it. Only that they would have talks about bullying and did nothing about the molestation situation. The only option my parents had were to pull me out of school and put me in distance education/online education, while seeing a psychologist.
Online education worked but it worsened my social anxiety disorder that I didn't know I had. All my friends from my previous school, stopped talking to me. I eventually found out through one of the people in my group that Sheila was saying bad things about me because I had told the group that she was a liar, a manipulator and not to trust her. I didn't want them to be treated poorly, I tried to protect them but instead they believed her when she turned all those things about me. It broke me, deeply.
I was more hurt that they believed her. When I got angry, telling that person that no one took notice of how depressed I was, they only blamed me for not telling them. In my mind, it wouldn't have mattered if I told them or not, they wouldn't have believed me anyway. So, I dropped them.
When I was 15, I ran out of options of schooling as I got removed from online education since my parents couldn't afford it anymore. We were told there was a school for 'special' kids like me, who have tried to take their life and struggle with mental issues. We were lied to. The school was made of people between the ages of 8-22 years old. They actually were more kids who COULDN'T go to school because they had been to juvenile prison.
I saw a lot at that school, drugs, pregnancies, pedophilia, the school was even helping young girls rid their pregnancies with free abortions provided by the school. I was shocked and I knew the only way I could escape everything was music. I signed up for music class and learned how to play the piano.
During this time I was diagnosed with Autism, Social Anxiety Disorder, Depression and Anxiety.
When I left, I left on bad terms with the school. My friends talked about me, one girl who I was good friends had even slept with my ex boyfriend during this time and even lied about me going to her house and wanted to have a punch on with her, yelling out at her house. This was incredibly hurtful and frustrating for me, I was always there for her before it all went bad and I even ran to her house when I wasn't allowed out because she told me she was going to take her life. I saw the cuts on her arm and legs, I was very concerned and I wanted to call the ambulance for her but she didn't want her parents know. I helped clean her up and in the end she betrayed me.
My trust in females, disappeared. I never tried to make friends with females after that. I made friends with males more easier, we could talk about cars, girls, video games and just chill out without any drama or expectations. Had to shut a few boys down over the years because they had fallen for me but I didn't see them that way, just saw them as friends.
When I was 17, I got involved with a young man who I met online who lived in the city, he didn't want anything serious with me, just wanted me as 'one of his girls' he sees. After a few months, I fell for him and he told me he wasn't interested in a relationship and I told him straight that I wasn't interested in just hooking up while he was seeing other people. So because he didn't want to share me or lose me, we got together but I found out he was cheating and still hooking up with other girls when he went clubbing, dealing drugs as well as doing heavy drugs and drinking all the time. When we broke up, it broke me completely. I was so tired and I was angry for trying to impress other people, changing who I was over the years to make them happy.
So I went through a breakdown after my 18th. As ashamed as I am about it. I shut my emotions off, doing things I never want to remember and I wanted to just live. Until I met another man.
Kind, Generous, Caring as he seemed, that was NOT the case. Just before my 19th birthday, he had gotten angry with me when I made mistakes. Which resulted in being hit and he was incredibly volatile that I thought he might actually kill me. One morning, he thought the best way to punish me was to rape me . I tried to say stop, I tried safe words like ''Red'' as we discussed since we were interested in BDSM. I tried to scream, hoping his parents in the next room would help me but didn't. The more I fought the more violent he was and I didn’t want to feel anymore pain, so I stopped and gave in.
When he finished, he sat at his computer, watching car videos and smoking a cigarette while I laid on his bed, crying and sobbing. When he finally decided to come over and comfort me, it had been an hour and didn't want to touch me so he put a pillow between us as he held me.
That morning I drove an hour home, thinking whether to call the police or just try to move on and forget. I didn't want my parents to know so I chose to end the relationship in the following days and move on, try to forget. I painted a happy person to my parents but I knew they knew something was wrong.
When you try to move on from that, it doesn't go away. I never was able to speak to my father properly, I favored my mother more to talk to, I didn't trust men for a long time, I cried and still cry at being yelled at or feeling at fault over a small mistake. For years, I tried to forget.
For years, I believed all I was good for was sexual needs for others and a listening friend to talk to in need. I didn't feel worthy as a person for years. Feeling disgusting and no matter how hard I scrubbed myself in the shower, the memory never left.
Only one man a couple years ago now, I was 22 and decided to try again at love. I had done some therapy but apparently I was still suffering from PTSD. I traveled four hours for this man and it wasn't enough for him, he never touched me when I wanted to be intimate and told me that my PTSD is so bad that I would never find someone that could handle it, that I was too young to understand a relationship and that I was pathetic for the way I thought. Never liked telling him how I felt and it always become an argument that we should just break up. I had enough of being treated badly, so I broke up with him.
I'm 24 now, I am with the most gentle man. He has done a lot for me and I couldn't thank him enough for picking me up off the ground when I needed it. Everyday, he makes me a better person and I am so lucky to have him in my life.
Thank you for reading this and I just want to let others out there struggling know that it gets better. If you have a friend or know someone who may be struggling, all they need is reassurance and a lending ear. Loyalty goes a long way.
