It Gets Better

I find it really sad that it takes the media and multiple deaths to wake up a country to the fact that bullying is real and deadly, emotionally and physically. However as sad as I am at that fact, I am elated at the availability social networking has offered our community to get the word out. Even if it doesn't change the views of those that bully, it is providing resources and support for the victims. Bullying will never end, but being able to combat it enough to move past it is a skill that most kids are lacking, yet one that is being taught through this medium.

I have a particular interest in these kids, I suffered severe depression and suicidal ideations most of my teenage life. Just last night I sat and read a 'letter' I wrote to someone, 78 pages long, that told of my struggles. It broke my heart to realize I thought I had no one to turn to then. At that time, I was writing to a poster on my wall. That letter was what saved me. A celebrity hanging over my bed was the one person who I could talk to, endlessly and who would understand.

At that age I was unsure of my sexuality completely. I was trying desperately to fit in at a new school, in a new town, and with feelings that were different than everyone else. I loved deeply, hurt often and was a product of a childhood full of despair and completely inexcusable moments. I was an outcast from day one; poor kid in the rich town. My clothes didn't measure up, my house was shameful and it was obvious I was different.

My family was never close. My mom was already out of the picture. My dad, just trying to survive. My friends treated me like a tag along and no one took me very seriously. For a long time I thought the advice "people will pity you only so long" written in a yearbook to me was sound advice. I replayed those words over and over trying to convince myself I was looking for sympathy I obviously didn't deserve. I drowned myself in alcohol and drugs for many years. Self medicating to avoid feeling.

I came out some time in high school and although it was a very small school, I was far from alone. I at least had a small group that I could relate to. People seem to remember those days as being OK for me. Someone actually said to me the other day 'we sure had it easy'. I am not so certain I should be included in that 'we'. I distinctly remember watching my father scrubbing the spray paint off the driveway so others would not be able to read the word "dyke". I can still recite, word for word, the derogatory song the football team made up and chanted as they jogged past my house. Senseless bullying for the sake of bullying that took an already lonely, unstable child to the edge. I didn't want to die, but it sure seemed like a much better option than living.

So I wrote. I wrote a lot. I wrote to my friend on the wall. I wrote in journals. I wrote letters I never intended to send. It was my only true connection to something. I focused on removing myself emotionally from people to avoid hurt. To this day, I am still trying to recover from that time in my life. It had a huge impact on my relationships now. It left me afraid of being me, unable to embrace myself, and watching my back at all times.

Everywhere I am seeing, "It gets better". For me it didn't get better, it got easier. I am still bullied to this day. Maybe not by chants or spray paint, but by a world that still cant accept me. However I have grown and I have learned and I would have missed a lot of fabulous things in this life if I had given in and let them win back then. I want to hand my phone number out to every kid that needs someone to talk to. To every kid that needs that poster friend.