I remember being one of the shyest girls in the classroom. Holding my breath and wringing my trembling hands I would close my eyes and pray the teacher didn’t call on me. I hated my voice. I hated my hair. I hated the lil bit of a belly that hung over my pants. To say I was awkward was an understatement. It was hard for me to make friends are even speak because I was too scared I would never fit in. I was 5. To say that fear of being accepted never left me is an understatement. The fear I have when it comes to women is enough to make it so I don’t want to leave the house. Somewhere along the way out of my desperation to be noticed and fit in I willed into me the opposite this coward of a woman who is too scared to make friends.
I never truly fit in and when I did finally make a close friend my insecurities of pushing them away became intensified. There were so many times where I would hope and pray for something to do during lunch instead of having to go outside and realized how much of a failure I am at social skills. It wasn’t just me. Some of the hate naturally flowed down to my little sister and as the bigger sister you feel ashamed that you can’t keep her safe from the same bullies who torment you. I was scared. I hated pain. To think that somebody hated us both enough to resort to threats and violence. Wouldn’t you know divine intervention meddled in that promised to put an end to it all. What I didn’t see going into it was the anti-Christ dressed as my saviour. Where I thought I was about to be rescued from the hands of our bullies I was being hand delivered to Satan himself and would pay the ultimate price.
My dad found a note complete with crossbones threatening to kill my sister. That is how it was done before social media. Seeing the severity of the issue and all the fear in their eyes what choice did I have. Going into it I knew the beating was going to hurt. I made sure all the right people knew on the way to school that I had intended to fight her at lunch, across the bridge, on the way to town. I also tried to get word to my new boyfriend what was about to happen. He wasn’t allowed on school grounds because he was expelled. His reputation was that he was bad news but what choice did I have but to crossover to the dark side. So there I was at lunch hour looking into the eyes of this chick that just HATED us for some reason. I was hoping my boyfriend was going to show to protect me, I know foolish me. I watched her fist go back as I closed my eyes waiting for her first blow to land and that’s when it happened. My boyfriend was there and he grabbed her fist in the air and twisted her to the ground. Looking back I had no reason to believe anything he said but in that moment when he saved me from an ass whopping he became my knight in shining armour and I would have done anything for him.
For the next year and a half I was suppressed and degraded in ways it is hard for anybody to truly understand. I wasn’t allowed friends I became his property. One time when I was talking to a guy trying to set up with a friend (I was allowed a few girl friends but only the ones he approved of) when he showed up at m parents house. He picked up the receiver and upon hearing it was a guy beat me with the phone cord till I promised never again. Say what you will about telling your parents but it was either his abuse or the bullies at school and the major difference between the two is he told me he loved me so in my eyes I was always safe. Mentally that sticks with you for a very long time.
I hear so much about everybody else being triggered by such and such events and try to paint it so they are always the one victimized. Just the other day I posted a pick about clearly consensual sex between three people at the Calgary Stampede. My thinking was of course we are the dirtiest province in Canada with the highest COVID # we are home to the Calgary Trampede. Wouldn’t you know it all the trolls in mass numbers came out pointing their dirty lil fingers in my direction accusing me of slut shaming. Uhmmm no honey I wasn’t the one calling her slutty. You were the one implying such. I am stating here in Alberta home of the consensual sex province of Alberta we don’t wear masks when we fornicate. So before you go off on a tangent thinking you are holier than though remember we all have a back storey. When you come at me talking behind my back you trigger me right back to that 13 year old girl with no voice and no say. Yes I can be offensive and I can be a tad crude but I never intend to hurt nobody ever. I wonder what it would feel like to be you for a day. Actually I could think of nothing worse. Keep glancing your judgemental eye in my direction because noting you say or do makes sense.