Of coarse things started as a little girl. My wants and needs were never important. If I wanted or needing something I was the brunt of the jokes. My body always brought laughter and jokes, from as far as I can remember. My father would scare us and think it was hysterical, the kind of scared that makes your heart beat a million miles an hour and your life flashes. I was terrified of the dark, he was the often the monster in the dark yet I was shamed for wanting to sleep with the light on. That one became a nightly battle, I would get little sleep, waiting for the house to be quiet, turning the light on, only to have him turn it off, then again I would wait turning it on. And it went on every night between the terror of the rapes. The light was the only little bit of comfort, that I could bring to myself in a house of insane. Terror in the everyday and I was laughed at.
IN school, I was always the quiet different kid. I was always in another world, some place far away and I was made fun of. I would watch, oh I watched everything, trying to figure out my place. I had a place in Mr.Haley's class. He was a bit strange and he had the passion to teach that was more than amazing, his was one class I didn't feel so different in. He had animals and I could at least connect with them i his room. He allowed me to use my creativity as a tool instead of something that was looked down on. Fifth grade, that same year I was the brunt of many jokes especially a girl named Lyndee, she was cruel. By today's standard I was bullied, oh was I bullied. I can remember wearing these terry cloth shorts. Oh my goodness I loved them, they were orange and super comfy, I was comfortable in them until I was told that they were more than hideous and became the laughing stalk of my class. That same year was the time that the skies ere black, from the storm of the year and my father came into class dumping out my entire desk, in front of my class, telling me that I was going to start turning in my homework. He stood there screaming and yelling at me, the snickers could be heard and I felt smaller than small. The teacher never said a word never stood up for me. He was done and left the portable, I was left in a class of my peers to clean up the mess.
Things never really got better, I was pushed into the youth group at church, and was just too young. Middle school is so young, and I was placed in the high school group. I was often laughed at I was self conscience about everything. I mean EVERYTHING. What I wore what I looked like, what other people thought, everything from what I ate, the kind of food , all of it, Not one thing that I did wasn't affected. Once my mother was over a friends and she didn't really drink but this night she came to get something and I remember her laughing right in my face. And that feeling, someone laughing in your face, thinking they are funny, my heart sank. I didn't understand what was so funny. I reply that scenario play by play and it was just awful.
Later when the house was broken into, and the gang rape happened oh the laughing , it was the worst ind of soul crushing laughter that you can imagine . Like the 13 years leading up to that weren't awful enough, they laughed at my cries and thought I was funny. The evil in that house, how they would take turns and laugh, like I was nothing. They made me the joke, and there wasn't a think that I could do.
I turned to whales and that was a joke in itself. I was always different and my love of whales didn't help that. They were my everything they took care of each other. They were these magnificent beings that were nothing but kind. They had my heart. And it was a joke, I was laughed at, made fun of, my passions wasn't nurtured or nursed along it was seen as yet something else that made me different that made me a target.
High school was more of the same. I lived watching the world trying not to be pest not to rock any boats and make anyone notice. Things at home were the same, I was seen as a joke things I thought, things I did were not important. I was laughed at, behind my back in front of my face. It was something that I expected really, that was just the way that it was.
Fast forward to adulthood, the laughing didn't stop my fears that others couldn't possibly comprehend became something to pint out and mock. I was sitting on the couch watching TV and someone thought it was funny to bang on the window, more than scaring me, and I jumped and that was funny to them. When you have been violated, your house broken into and people hurt you and taken whatever they wanted from you, its not a joke, when someone is home alone. Another time was Super Bowl weekend, and crowds and I just don't mix. I prefer a few people that I know , it just makes me feel safer and more relaxed. Well I was laughed at and said well people are coming over you probably want to be somewhere else. Someone laughing at your fears in your face. That loud cackle laugh, and you feel so stupid like you shouldn't be so afraid but you are, and its made fun of.
Those things happen often, and sad but you honestly do get used to them, I have had to. That doesn't mean that it hurts any less but you get used to it.
LATELY, I have realized just how much that all of that affects me even to this day. The kids will start laughing or I overreact a little and they both think its hysterical and I am brought back to those days of being physically hurt, and laughed at. I take their laughs personally, like again my own children are laughing at me. Oh the feeling that brings is more than painful. And the chiropractor laughing me off when I tell him that he is hurting me and tells me like its part of getting better they have no idea where I have come from. And There was a student who would laugh this terrible laugh and think things were funny, and again I was right back to growing up and things being so awful and so hurtful.
I guess the good thing is realizing what is happening. I try to remember that its my children being 11, and yes some things are funny and that's ok. When some things are funny its not all about me, and people laughing is a good thing. I can see that I truly can it is just more than hard where I have come from. I am fighting so much lately this is just one more piece to have to fight. I know that I am different, weird, maybe even strange but I am me. Someday, there is so going to be a place where I won't hear all the laughter of people from the past and I will just be here. With my own children I keep reminding myself, just how very different that things are. Its a process, a process worth trying to Win. Someday, Someday I will win.
I heart your heart.
