Shattered by my Own Evil Monologue

I'll start by saying this: I had depended on other people way too much as I grew up. I depended on other people's approval, thoughts, opinions, emotions, and physical contact. When I look back at myself all that comes to my mind is the phrase emotional leech.

I grew up in a small city in Northeast Tennessee. I was home schooled until the 4th grade. My parents and many doctors/educators that tested me said that I had to go to public school. My reading level was at a 2nd grade level in 4th grade because I had an extreme battle with dyslexia. I was told that by being home school I was not challenged enough to be motivated to learn and needed the other kids as a competition.

Over time, in public school, I became a different person. My once outgoing and care-free self turned into a co-dependent shy being. I was only a mere shadow of my happy self by the end of high school. There are many reasons why I turned into a lesser being and many excuses that I could give you - which I had given and believed myself - to try to get you off my back. But the truth is that I listened to a lot of lies coming from the negative parts of my mind. I rarely took in praise or believed the praise was sincere.

In elementary and middle school I had a lot of friends. I was friendly but not very outgoing. I could be funny and tell jokes but it was only to get my friends to like me more. I wanted others to want me around. I didn't want to feel abandoned again.

I had felt abandoned when my parents first dropped me off in 4th grade, that feeling resonated with me for - well, until today. I had never been away from a family member and by myself until that moment. I was all alone. Even though most of the kids and staff were friendly and I was in a room full of at least ten people at a time, I still felt alone.

See, when you are in a home schooled environment you feel safe. You are around family, friends, a nanny, grandparents, and etc. You are rarely alone or in an unfamiliar place - e.g. away from someone you trust. I grew up with a sister who also took part in raising me. My sister was my rock. When I was taken away from my rock for 8 hours 5 days a week, I was unstable emotionally. I didn't ask for help in processing that emotion though. That was bad on my part.

The negative thoughts in my head always had me comparing myself to others. The fact that my older sister didn't have to go to public school and could continue to finish home school and I couldn't. I was the failure and she was the good one. The fact that most of my friends in school were better at a sport, mathematics, or reading in front of a group and I felt as though I failed at these before I gave them my all when trying.

I had a lot of these negative emotions and imaginations against myself. I didn't let people in and I learned quickly how to hide behind the mask that I made and wore well. To people I looked friendly, excited, happy, and sincerely like someone you wanted to be around. But on the inside I was second guessing myself all the time. I was doubting all of my abilities, especially when someone said that I did a good job.

I used to love art and took private lessons before my run in with public school. I was pretty great when I look back at it now. I had been praised by my family and my private art teacher for my abilities. In middle school I didn't know how to take the fact that other people would be better at it than me. I didn't know how to process that feeling of being second or third place and being okay with that. I especially didn't know how to process other people's negative or comparing statements towards my own work. When I would look at a friend's artwork project that was beautiful and well done, I didn't know how to take that sting and learn from it. I would let myself wallow in self-pity and doubt and think negative towards the praise that I had gotten. I allowed myself to become broken in one of my happy places - art - because a bully made fun of my project - even though it was abstract art and I could do whatever I wanted on it. I didn't defend myself, I just rolled over and took the hit.

In middle school I was overweight. I was never a skinny kid but I blew up in weight more so than normal. Hormones wrecked havoc on my body. I was praised by adults for not being active, for not talking, and sitting still on the sidelines of the classroom while the rest of the class were acting like monkeys and hanging from the ceiling. I took that praise too far in mind. I became overly still, quiet, and un-moving. I didn't want to be active and play sports because I would fail at the one thing that I was known to be good at. I didn't feel like I was good enough to even play sports because I was the slowest on the playground, I was one of the unhealthy kids, and I wasn't a part of the sports cliques. Someone would be better than me. I couldn't read well, I kept failing tests, I didn't play sports, I kept getting yelled at when I was active or talkative. So, I stayed on the side of being shut down more and more as time went on in my school years.

When I was around 14 years old my sister had gotten me into the Twilight saga by Stephanie Meyers. My sister read Twilight to me because I still couldn't read well. Even though I had already had the book read to me, I had fallen in love with the characters and plot so much that I wanted to read it for myself. And I did. I read the rest of that series by myself. Dyslexia did get in my way some but I fought through it so hard that I eventually corrected my disability to a couple levels up. Once school had started I slowly climbed up to be one of the top classmates of my class in Language Arts and English. My reading level shot up to grade levels, my math level dropped by one.

The summer before my freshman year of high school I became more aware of health and took actions to help my body. I was down to a more respectable weight for my age. I had fallen in love with reading by this point. I would get into trouble throughout high school for writing stories in all of my classes instead of paying attention to the board. I was known for being highly recommended by my English and Literature teachers to the different clubs but I would always turn down the invites. I doubted my abilities and was scared to be proud of something before having the feeling crushed by someone's opinion. Looking back I wish I had told these negative thoughts to take a hike and die in a hole. I would have had so much fun in journalism or the poet club if I had loosened up.

The biggest breaking point for me was this: I was in love. I lied to myself about this. Told myself that he was only a friend. My high school sweet heart had been there with me from the beginning of my public school journey. He was in Special Resources with me from day one. He was protective of me - I don't know why. Whenever there was a bully making comments toward me, he would back me up. Whenever I was fighting internal demons, he would know what to say to cheer me up or distract me from the negative internal monologue. He would know when something was wrong with me. Or whenever I was happy about something he would listen and sincerely be happy for me.

Man, I had fallen hard for this guy but we collectively denied whenever someone asked if we were a couple - after the first time it was asked. He said that I was like a sister to him the first time probed about our relationship. I had waited on his reply that day to see what he would say. That's when I realized he had a clear line drawn between us. He was 15 and I was 14 at that time. My walls came up around the idea that we would ever exceed anything more than friends or a brother-sister relationship. Even though that denial hurt, and the barricaded doors from deep inside grew stronger, I knew I was in love with him. Eventually I had forgotten that I was in love with him. I buried my feelings so deeply that I couldn't bring just the thought of being in love with him until much later on in life. I started to believe the butterfly feelings for him were just normal. It would still hurt every time I watched him go through different relationships though.

My broken summer: a few days before the summer started I found out that my best friend died. He died from a motorcycle accident. I was shattered. I was broken. And I was drowning. I didn't know how to get out from the darkness that had taken over my mind. I found out through two girls that I didn't know but was stuck working on a project with for a last ditch effort from my gym coach. When they gossiped about what happened I couldn't focus. I couldn't see. I had a nervous internal break down that felt like every nerve ending in my body was screaming in pain but I hid this from everyone. I went through his death alone.

My sister who had been there my whole life was married and moved to another state. My friends knew about his death and never contacted me. I did try to open up to my dad about his death. "Shit happens. Just cry and get it over with." My dad had advised me and honestly his statement was actually more helpful than I realized at the time - when I think about it now.

But I didn't want to face the reality. I tried my best to believe that it was just a rumor. My best friend was a smart guy and drove amazingly. I played off the weekend believing that the rumor was just some sick joke that he played or it was a prank for the seniors since he was popular with them. I told myself to not cry or think about the rumor. When I would go to school on Monday, he would be alive and happy. My rock would laugh and give me his goofy grin that always made me smile.

Walking into school on the last Monday of sophomore year is supposed to be exciting and cheerful. Everyone is ecstatic that another year had gone by and we were going to the next level up. We were juniors once summer started. That was not what had greeted me in the hallway of my high school. When I saw one of the people I considered to be my b.f.f. with puffy eyes and no makeup, I knew I couldn't lie to myself anymore. I told myself to not cry when I walked down the long hallway. But no matter how much I reprimanded myself and tried to be the strong friend for them - I couldn't be.

I ran to my first period and I stayed in that classroom the whole day. My favorite resource teacher let me stay. My teacher knew that I had just lost my very best friend. I was suggested to talk with one of the counselors while I was in the room to get some help. I agreed. It didn't help though.

The counselor tried to help me by asking details that I should have known but I wasn't in the right mind frame to be pop quizzed about him. I said the wrong middle name and one of the girls that were in the room with me yelled at me for not knowing it. I took that chastisement to heart and stopped talking. Obviously I didn't know him, I wasn't his true friend, and I should die too. I had failed in protecting him like he had protected me. The negative monologue that was usually subtle didn't leave me alone all summer with stronger self-enmity.

I hated myself for so long because the Friday before his passing I had the thought to hug him and tell him to be careful. I had had a bad feeling about him leaving that day like he was going to get hurt. I was right about the bad feeling but I wasn't right for most of the things that I blamed myself for. It was wrong for me to blame myself for not being with him when the accident took place because I couldn't protect him. It was wrong for me to think that because I didn't warn him, he died. It was wrong for me to think that because I wasn't able to give the right details in a high pressured and emotional time that I was the worst human being in the world. It was wrong for me to think that I deserved to die instead of him. And it was wrong for me to have shutdown and turn off my mind.

I remember going to his funeral. I wouldn't stay for the preacher to spew his "be happy" and "bubble gum" preaching over the despair-filled room. A part of me didn't believe that my best friend was dead until I saw him lying lifeless. Or until I saw his father crying beside him. I couldn't handle being in the room any longer and I bolted. I couldn't breath and my anxiety pushed me into an emotional fit that I dared not to let anyone see me go through.

Junior and senior year were hard. I was unstable, depressed, lost, and drowning. I had forgotten who I was. I had forgotten my plans. I had forgotten what I wanted in life. I chose to live day by day in a haze of dread. I had broken into my dad's wine room, I would go to school football games to get drunk, or just go to school drunk. I stopped eating in school. I would eat when I left. By the time I left school I was starving and would eat anything and everything in sight. I gained all of my weight I had fought to get off and more.

I lost all of my friends in my junior and senior year. By the time I was going through graduation I didn't have anyone around to take pictures with that I wanted to remember. Those people didn't close me off though. I close them off. I blocked the idea of friends. I didn't want emotional attachments anymore. I didn't want to be a leech like I had been. I wanted to disappear and I did well at that. When I craved attention I became a whore and used one guy in my school. But when I had my fill of emotional connection I was done and my walls came up again.

Once I was pushed into the idea of college I didn't know what I wanted for my life. So, I chose to pursue Criminal Justice and become a cop. My problem was that I didn't really want to become that. I was taking up a position that my dad had wanted. He failed one physical health test but had excelled in the written tests. I thought that was my duty! To finish what he started. That would make him happy so that would make me feel happy.

When I would go to my college classes I felt unmotivated, bored, and hopeless. My true dream had been that I wanted to be a history teach or a writer. I had a true love for both but this love had been forgotten long ago. Because I was not going after something I wanted, I failed even harder. Instead of pushing to lose weight and think about my health, I studied or passed out in my dark room. Or I ate. I ate anything other than healthy food. Anything carb related, coffee related, or sugar related passed through my lips. I weighed fifty pounds heavier in college because I hated myself.

After a year and a half in college I had failed my math courses three times, my English classes twice. I was so close to failing Philosophy due to tardiness or failing the tests because I hadn't shown up for those lessons since I had been passed out in a depression choke hold. At this point I gave up my college career. I honestly don't think that I will ever go back because it was overly stressful and I have finally found what I love to do.

While I may be pursuing my dream of becoming a writer and I know that my love for writing is strong, but my happiness is still lost. I don't feel happy as often as I should. I don't feel free from these negative thoughts that plague me every minute. I still have to push myself to wake up every morning and start the day. But I can say that I am better. I have forgiven myself more now. I am healthier now. I am not as broken as I had been. And I have hope of finding my happiness one day.