Middle School

There is no easy way to start this or to even be able to talk about some of the missing pieces. The gaps in memory. I've lost a lot of time over the years. Moments and memories that caused so many issues that my brain decided it would be better if we just repressed them. In Elementary school I only remember the name of my fourth grade teacher but that year is completely lost. I don't remember any of it.

School is supposed to be a safe place but as we know now it isn't. Most of my early childhood trauma happened in schools or around them. There was a playground across from my middle school - I was a troubled kid. I skipped class, I'd smoke weed with people I thought were friends at the park and get in fights.

There was one particular day that I didn't head back into school with the people I'd gone to the park with and I spent a lot of time after wishing that I had. Wishing that as much as I didn't want to be in those classrooms that I'd just gone because what was in there was better than what was waiting out at that park.

I remember that there was an older group of kids smoking cigarettes by the covered picnic area and I thought why the hell not. I went over to them and bummed a cigarette. You know those gut instincts that tell you something isn't right. That you shouldn't be there. That you should leave. I had so many alarm bells ringing in my head. They were loud and constant but I didn't listen. I went towards danger instead of running away from it.

I remember most of the group dispersing. Laughing uncomfortably at what this guy said. He said I was beautiful and wanted to get to know me. Even with the warning bells I stuck around. I was young and stupid.

I don't remember how it happened. I remember saying no. I remember trying to push him off. I remember being scared. I remember him smiling down at me as he zipped up his pants and him walking away. I remember lying there terrified. The pain. I was in a lot of pain.

I remember the voice in my head saying that I deserved it. I deserved what happened. I couldn't find my underwear when I finally moved to get dressed. I called myself a slut and hated myself for what I let happen.

I remember walking back into school and going straight to the bathroom. Fixing my hair, pulling it back into a pony tail. Walking into class late and being sent to the principals office. Getting in school suspension, and getting into trouble when I got home.

I remember taking a long bath and letting myself sink under the water. How much I wanted to die. I didn't tell anyone what happened. I just carried on the only way I knew how to and just added that incident to the list of secrets I held. The list of trauma I had experienced.

I know I had started to act out worse after that and I would say and do things that I didn't mean. I had so much anger inside of me and nowhere for it to go so it boiled and festered inside until I would lash out at someone else mostly my parents or when I would hurt myself. I hurt myself a lot.

I started looking for ways to not feel. Trying to seek anything that made me feel good or feel less. I tried to carry on like I was a normal child with no skeletons in my closet. I was 12.