Childhood
My Journey Through My School Years and How I Came Out Stronger
In a way, I´ve always felt like I was out of place. I was the shy girl who would run and hide whenever put in a situation where I would have to be around a lot of people. I felt awkward and clumsy. From the time I was a child through, although slightly to a lesser extent, my adulthood, I found more peace being by myself. It's ironic, because I enjoy being around people, but I'm terrified of doing so. I consider myself an extroverted introvert, a work in progress. This was never more true than when I was in school.
By Judith Jascha5 years ago in Confessions
We are NOT alone
I did not fit in. I am not someone who blends in with the crowd easily. My personality exudes eccentricity. I’m nerdy, love art, and fangirl over books. Younger me tried as hard as she could to fit in. But standing before my middle school mirror smudged and scratched with vandalism, I hated what I saw. And I wanted control; it was my high.
By Issie Amelia5 years ago in Confessions
Ignorant Words
As a young child I had a terrible speech impediment. I went to a speech therapist three times a week. I was so self-conscious when the lady would stick her head in my elementary classroom and pull me from the normal lessons to go work on my ability to talk. ‘How could I not speak.’ I would often wonder. ‘Babies learn how to talk without a therapist having them do odd mouth exercises in front of a mirror.’ I loved words and reading, the vocabulary inside my head was large, but getting it to exist in an audible form was nearly impossible.
By Miah Crosby5 years ago in Confessions
A Multi-cultural social shock
Social shock It was my skin that caught them off-guard when the doors to the class opened to let me in. Or it was the expectation in their minds that a foreigner had come to their school, from another country, who spoke English fluently and had enrolled in the school halfway through the term, skipping most of year 9. I was just as surprised as they were. Meekly walking in after the principal, I raised my head to look at a class of 8 staring back at me with wide eyes, roving their eyes over the stiff uniform I wore awkwardly, down to the clean white running shoes that had not experienced Indonesia's tropical wear and tear yet. No, they knew immediately that I was a foreigner. However, I was a foreigner in a class full of locals at an international school. I was an Indian kid caught between multiple cultures and societies, struggling to fit in.
By Semanti Mukhopadhyay5 years ago in Confessions
SCAPEGOAT
It is human nature to want to belong, a basic need for most of us. I'm here as I'm supposed to tell you of a time I didn't belong, but I find myself struggling to pinpoint just one time that stands out from the rest. I feel like my whole life has been one situation after another where I just didn't quite fit in. I guess it all started where it probably started for you as well, and that's in school.
By Eva Slivka5 years ago in Confessions
Girls Bathroom Chronicles
The bell rang. Like clockwork each middle school student grabbed their book bags, hurrying to the cafeteria to sit with their friends, eat whatever was able to be choked down, and to talk about whatever or whoever was most intriguing at that particular moment. I hadn’t found my space, my group to sit with. There was no welcoming stares or friendly smiles from lunch mates who’d missed my presence or conversation. There was no one who remembered anything personal that I’d shared so they could follow-up and ask if things were working out now. There was no one I could trade dishes with, or pleasantly refuse when they ask for my double chocolate brownie that I grabbed to go with my otherwise boring lunch. In fact, I was terrified of the whole ordeal, terrified that I’d say something stupid and irretrievable, terrified that I’d further ostracize myself from all the comfortably social people, or just flat-out be rejected in a public and shameful way. I left no room for offense or open ridicule. I didn’t leave my fate in the hands of my classmates; I ate my lunch in the girls bathroom.
By Kimberly J McGill5 years ago in Confessions
Struggling To Fit In - A Child's Cancer Journey
*Trigger Warning: This article briefly mentions suicide and death.* At eight years old, I wanted badly to be normal like every kid at my school, but it wasn’t the case. I put up a fight with my parents about going to school every morning because I did not want to be picked on and I did not want to deal with my bullies. Yes, eight-year-old kids bully others, and it’s harsh.
By Eli5 years ago in Confessions
Once a Tormented Girl in Russia — Now and Forever a Graceful Ballerina in America . Third Place in Social Shock Challenge.
“Hey you, a giraffe,” a pack of adolescent boys confronts me. They cackle as if demented. I am scared. I hate boys. Russia. 1973. I am thirteen, just arrived at a summer camp. I don’t know anyone. The wooden dorms between tall pine trees. Far away from Mom. I’m alone. I want to be back home or die.
By Irina Patterson5 years ago in Confessions
The Quiet Room
TRIGGER WARNING! The following story is a true accounting of events that took place in a special education classroom at Cory Elementary in Denver, Colorado*, during the 1990s. Neurodivergent readers and those suffering from PTSD in particular should proceed with caution.
By Alaric Bullard5 years ago in Confessions
The Beginning or the End of the Rest of My Life
It was a very cold and rainy day the day it all started. Mom and Dad had been divorced now for about 3 years. We were living in Idaho, about 300 miles away from Grandma. Things in my life were perfect there. I had great friends, great teachers, great parents, heck even my siblings and I got along most of the time. However, little did I know my very perfect life was about to change.
By Brianna Payne5 years ago in Confessions
Journal Entry #1
I want to figure out things about myself. I want to know who I am, without any doubt. I want to feel comfortable as myself. I want to be able to love myself like I love the people around me. I'm not blind to their flaws, but I choose to not only except them but to find beauty in them. So, why can I embrace the character flaws and physical flaws of the people around me, but I berate myself for every little thing I didn't do perfectly? Is it how I was treated as a child? Do I just pick apart every action I make or word that I say, just because I was ignored and neglected until the age of 16? At what point will I be able to let that go and figure out how to exist without hearing the loud and callous voice of my father and the screams and cries of my mother? At what point will their existence stop causing my breath to speed up and my heart to race and my brain to feel fuzzy? They aren't able to get to me now, and I know that. I know deep inside of me that I am out and I am safe and that I am my own person that matters and exists. I made the choice to be completely done, and yet I feel like they still have this control over me. At some point, the feelings have to be on me, they aren't doing anything, but I still feel their presence with every move I make.
By Sarah Williams5 years ago in Confessions
