Have you taken enough initiative already before you ask for help? Do you deserve help? Who are you to ask? You should never call 911 unless it's an absolute emergency!
It's taken me quite a long time to ask for help. My whole life I've been in denial about it too. Part of it is a control thing. To have help means I'm relinquishing my rights of full control over a situation. My power is gone. On top of that, I feel guilt for not being able to do or handle something all by myself. My fear is that other people will see me as a burden, as someone who just manipulates and uses others and is too lazy to do anything for himself. This has been reinforced in me over the years based on the what others have done to me.
In 6th grade middle school, I was bullied by other kids who perceived me as too smart and intelligent for them, even though I had no arrogance about it. I didn't dress exactly the same or spoke the same, so I was a target. This made my mother furious, and guidance counselors became involved. Unfortunately nothing changed. The abuse continued throughout the year, and a lot of my best friends stopped talking to me, appeasing their new friends. My grades suffered because I would daydream more and more. I hated being there, so I hid away in my mind where it was safe.
In 7th grade my mother pleaded with the school to get me into an honors program, based on my intelligence level. Even though my grades were slipping, the administration allowed me to join this new cluster filled with the smart kids. We all thought the problem was solved, and I even got to be in the same class as one of my best friends!
Of course it didn't work out that way. The bullying was now ten times worse. I was put down and told that I was a complete idiot. Nothing I could do would change that. All I wanted was to be accepted, for everyone to be respectful to me, even my tormentors, and yet it just got worse and worse. My school locker was broken into several times and music equipment and money was stolen. In the boys gym locker room, my clothes would magically disappear from time to time, and everyone would just laugh at me. I failed Gym because I refused to change into gym clothes. My coach didn't care. On the way into the locker room there were zigzagging corridors, and as the prior class of 8th graders were exiting they'd no doubt push me against the walls and laugh. My classmates joined in trying to impress the upperclassmen.
I'd find bad things written in my school books from time to time. There were depictions of me in negative ways. No one would personally admit doing it, but the majority of them would just laugh as they noticed me reading it. If they weren't writing in them, they were ripping pages out, or hiding the books altogether. I learned quickly to never let my backpack out of my sight, and to always carry every single one of my books everywhere, no matter how painful the load was to carry.
My 7th grade math teacher once looked at me and asked, "What's the matter?" I replied bluntly. "Life sucks." He was taken aback, but then began to laugh. "Oh, you are looking at the glass half empty! It's still half full, you know!" Unmoved I said back, "But you're implying that there's any water in the glass to begin with."
On one occasion I remember my 7th grade social studies teacher speaking to me in the lunch room with a look of concern on his face. "Randy, are you okay? Do you need to go to the nurse?" I looked up at him a bit surprised. I was completely fine, so I wasn't sure why he'd assume that. "Huh?" I replied quietly. He put his hand on my shoulder. "You look pale, you don't look so well today, how about I take you down to the nurse's office?" I wasn't about to protest, since I knew that I'd be able to get away from everyone and spend time on a cot alone in a quiet room for a short duration of time. When I arrived, the nurse took one look at me and asked if I wanted to lay down. I didn't hesitate. That whole time I rested, trying to figure why everyone thought I wasn't doing too well, unable to see the big picture.
I have no idea how many times my lunch or my lunch money was stolen and I went hungry. I have no idea how many times I was tripped in the hallways. I have no idea how many times I was pushed and hit outside of the school when the teachers weren't around. I have no idea how many times I was followed home and attacked. I have no idea how many times false accusations were made about me, and how I always got in trouble when I was innocent. I have no idea how many times I reached out for help to my teachers and was never taken seriously. I have no idea how many times my chair had been pulled out from under me as I tried to sit down. I have no idea how many times I was actually shoved and locked up in a locker. I have no idea how many hard basketballs were thrown at me. I have no idea how many times I was purposely knocked down on the ground while playing sports. I have no idea how many times I was laughed at by the way I ran.
It became difficult to eat, since my appetite had completely disappeared. I was chastised for it, and made to feel guilty. My slipping grades also reasserted the concept that I was inept. That year was the first and only time I ever went to summer school, which was for math, the same subject that I was once in the top 98 percentile of among other children. I was punished that summer and resorted in just isolating myself. I was safe there. I was happy there. I had to recuperate for the next school year. Each vacation day was cherished.
I moved that summer to a different town, a different school. To my complete surprise, my feelings of being persecuted and hated had been lifted. The individuals I had now began being around were all respectful! They didn't judge me like the others used to. All I had were fond memories of those two years I spent in that town. Those may have the best ones in my life, and perhaps even made up for the prior two. It was as if I was reborn into a more sane world. Finally I had arrived to a place that I thought reality was supposed to be like, and not the hell that I had been living in before.
My creativity was sparked and I began writing words and music. This is where I found my true outlet. Everyone cherished my cassette demos. Everyone wanted to be in a band with me. Everyone enjoyed my company. I was free in ways I can't even describe. I was in walking distance to an amazing video game shop, as well as a popular department store and a video rental place. I was next to a bus stop, in which I could be taken down to the city to hang out with all sorts of amazing people in front of a favorite coffee shop. We used to take a tour of the streets late at night as a large group. We used to hang out at the local college campus, and even use their computers in the computer rooms! We used to attend festivals and events, just us kids!
I finally felt like I belonged somewhere. Even when I was forced to move again, I still felt like the time I spent in that Eden was a priceless therapy that provided me so many tools for dealing with the rest of my life. Where my life could have went one way, I instead had a renewed sense of self-worth. I had no trouble making new friends wherever I went. I continued having new and exciting adventures with others.
I finally felt that I wasn't alone.
- Ether
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