Please remember, when I wrote this, I never intended on sharing with anyone but Jase. Some of my thoughts are scattered and random, but this was me writing for me. It's all real! So, here goes...
I'm not so sure where to begin. & why does it always seem so much easier to psychoanalyze yourself in writing?
Being an only child, I know I was rather bossy and bratty. In hindsight, I would also say that I was under socialized (if there is such a thing).
My parents were not a couple that socialized a lot with others. @ least not a lot of other people that had kids. Most of their friends were older with grown children. Neither of my parents were particularly close to their families. My parents did not choose to take family vacations with the rest of the family, etc. This left me feeling like the black sheep of the family. (Which I pretty much am, still, to this day.)
'Poor Jayden she's too fat, she needs to go on a diet.' (baby fat, but still, fat is fat, right?), 'Poor Jayden, she needs to be in church more', 'Jayden needs a brother or sister, she doesn't need to be an only child', 'Poor Jayden, both her parents are alcoholics' (I hate this term, because by no means were my parents alcoholics like what you see portrayed on Lifetime, but I suppose for all intents and purposes and by true definition, they were. I'm glad to say that the alcoholism did resolve.) I was always the outcast, always struggling to fit in. Too young to hang out with the older kids, but old enough to help the older kids clean up after a holiday dinner (while the 'little' kids played), Too old to hang out with the younger kids, but young enough to get stuck sitting @ the 'kids' table.
Not fitting in with my own family certainly did not help my self esteem.
To make matters worse, neither of my parents were fashion savvy to say the least. (yes, I promise, this fits into the picture. It's not just me being a snob as I've been accused of before.) In fact, they were stuck in some other era with EVERYTHING. They never kept up with any of the current styles.
Yep... my mom drove a fire engine red Camaro Z28 w/ T-tops while wearing POLYESTER pants in the '80's!
I don't remember ever wearing name brand clothes until way, way later in life. My mother always shopped @ K-mart & Maggie's Discount store. This wasn't a discount store like Marshall's, where they sell name brand clothes from last season, or slightly irregular. Nope, this was more like where K-Mart would send their stuff that didn't sell. In fact, I'm not so sure that it was really a discount store. Might've been a glorified thrift store. If I were to choose a song to describe my mom's fashion sense when I was a kid, I would have to say that "Parents just don't understand" by DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince (yes, I'm showing my age) would be the most accurate! LoL! Obviously, this is a direct contribution to my need to wear name brand clothes, shoes, underwear, etc. The same for my kids, I always buy name brand. (Yes, I will purchase them socks & underwear from The Gap & I wear Hilfiger & Ralph Lauren socks & only wear bra's & panties from Victoria's Secret.) I just can't bring myself to purchase a wardrobe from WalMart. Nothing against people that shop @ WalMart, I just can't do it. (Not to mention that I did try to buy baby clothes there once & they just didn't hold up).
I wasn't a neglected child by any means, I was very spoiled. Unfortunately, later on in life it was the things that I didn't have that were used against me.
So, now let me break this down... Only child, limited contact with other kids, not a close knit extended family, I was over weight & my parents SEVERELY lacked a sense of fashion. I was an outcast within my family & later on I would become an outcast @ the private school I attended.
I know this seems pretty irrelevant, but I feel my ability to understand will finally help me learn about who I REALLY am. Because, as I get further along in my "psycho analysis" of my life, I think it will be clear how everything really ties together. So, I guess I will begin... (again)...
I always remember feeling insecure about myself, even in daycare (I don't know why). Kindergarten & 1st. & 2nd. grade were fairly normal. Nothing out of the ordinary that I remember, I had friends, I was on the mini cheer leading squad, I participated in various extra curricular activities. I enjoyed the outdoors, fishing, water skiing, etc., I made good grades & I was out going. I got along with everyone.
3rd. grade was when the proverbial shit hit the fan. I made the mistake of befriending the new girl. Kelly & I became best friends immediately. Unfortunately, Kelly's bitch cousin Misty (who had gone to school with me since Kindergarten) was jealous of our friendship. I became Misty's target & her whole goal in life was to make mine a living hell. Because Misty belonged to one of the richest (& largest) families @ the school, her behavior was ignored (God forbid the school piss off one of their biggest donor's), soon I became every one's target. Why not? I mean they knew that they wouldn't get in trouble, so everyone jumped on the bandwagon. I was barked @, called all kinds of names, called fat. People would pretend like I was causing an earthquake when I walked, I was the center of every one's jokes. Even my 'friends' turned on me because anyone that associated with me would catch hell from Misty. Obviously, it was better to be on the giving end than the receiving. Things were further compounded by the fact that I began to 'develop' @ 8 years old. So, naturally I got picked on about that (The bitches were envious of my big boobs later on, but that didn't change what they did when I was young).
I was absolutely miserable. I was alone @ home, I was alone @ school. I was already unsure of myself and now I had NO self esteem & NO confidence. Of course my parents said what all parents say: "just ignore them." "They're just jealous." "You're beautiful." "Tell the teacher" Looking back, I believe that all this did occur over jealousy, but that didn't change the very real pain that I experienced & ultimately the life long scars that I still carry.
Obviously, I had no one to talk to (that would actually help me) & I felt I had no one to lean on. Of course, telling the teacher only caused me to endure more hell & torment. My mother speaking to her
'friends' that happened to be the parents of my 'abusers' did no good either. That just provided even more ammunition, as the parents didn't seem to care either. I kept everything so bottled up & I felt so helpless. It got to the point that when I got picked on, all I could do was cry. When I cried, I would get picked on for crying. Once they realized they could make me cry, they would pick on me more just to make me cry, then pick on me for crying! I hated all of them, and I hated crying & I resented my parents for forcing me to stay @ that damn school! Seriously, they were PAYING for me to be tortured everyday!
I wanted so bad to fit in. On free dress days, I was so uncomfortable. I was stuck relying on my fashion handicapped mother to attempt to understand what was in style and purchase 'stylish' K-Mart clothes. My mother fixed my hair every morning... either pony tail or hot rollers because 'as long as she was fixing my hair, she would have it cut the way she wanted". Grrrrr....her hair was cut like a freaking maw-maw... (remember, stuck in another era.)
So, here I think things could get no worse in my life...I mean I'm already completely fucked for life, right? WRONG... Enter Sister Alice, 4th. grade & all of the hell & turmoil that went with it. ( I swear, this woman was Satan in a nuns habit! Believe me when I tell you that being a Catholic Nun does not make you a good person. It is very possible to be a nun & be EVIL! This woman was proof.)
My dad lost his job, we had to give up our house, our boat & move to the camp. A very miserable place for a kid during the winter and especially without a boat. It was very isolated (just what I needed, more seclusion). Eventually, we moved to some apartments a block or 2 from the school.
Great... Now, we're poor...even better, one more thing to be picked on about. My parents were now getting a reduced tuition rate. This made me worth even less in the eyes of the Catholic school & the 'good' sisters. Why would they every stand up for me now? They just allowed Misty to continue, because she had many siblings and cousins & the grandfather poured THOUSANDS into that school and church hand over fist. I damn sure wasn't worth them losing that money train to another Catholic school, business is business, right!?
Still, it got worse... The miserable, hateful nun Sister Alice also seemed to delight in making my life a living hell. (I prefer to refer to her as 'Sister MALICE' this was way more accurate). This nun regularly found reasons to humiliate me in front of the class (no spanking though, it wasn't allowed @ this school). Now the teacher was picking on me too. If that wasn't a free pass for these kids to continue, they really had NOTHING to fear now! They would certainly NEVER stop, now!
This bitch would call me a cry baby when she or the kids would make me cry, she would intentionally over look me for awards that I should have received (some of this was so blatantly obvious that even the kids that picked on me would comment that I should've gotten the award). Then the evil bitch did the unthinkable, one day when we headed out for recess, she held Kelly (my only friend) back to talk to her. She told Kelly that she should not be friends with me because she (Kelly) was smart, and I was "stupid" (Helllllooooo.... I was on the honor roll, even through all of the emotional abuse, I kept my grades up! I was definitely NOT stupid!), she also told her that I was "low class, white trash" because I lived in an apartment. (Well excuse the hell out of me! I'm soooo sorry that my parents are cops & they aren't rich because they are too busy risking their lives protecting all your sorry, rich asses!!!) I really hated that woman & I was really starting to resent my parents. How could they think that leaving me @ that hell hole was in my best interest?! The only good thing I really had any more was Cheer leading, & even that was starting to get uncomfortable for me. My extra curricular activity participation was next to nothing now. I was however in this school club for the girls (which I hated) called Mary's club (it's a Catholic thing).
I remember once, there was this club function @ the school over the weekend (Saturday & Sunday). Mary's clubs from other Catholic school's throughout the state were there. (I guess it was like a Mary's Club convention). I had been assigned some speaking role for whatever stupid thing we had to do. We had to dress 'up'. I remember being (unfashionably) dressed in a light pink button down shirt, a grey wool skirt & brown zip up boots. (Amazing, the little things that stick with you during traumatic times.) I hated all dresses & skirts, so @ this point, I could've been dressed in name brand, fashionable clothes (which I wasn't) & it wouldn't have mattered, I would've still been uncomfortable. I don't know why, but for some reason, these assholes served SPAGHETTI for lunch! I was what? 9 years old? I got spaghetti on my shirt... Of course who should see this? Yes, Sister 'Malice'. She made a B-line for me & in a very loud and degrading voice said (& I quote) " GIRL! LOOK @ YOU! YOU ARE A MESS! YOU LOOK LIKE A PIG! YOU ARE SUCH A PIG!!! GO CLEAN YOURSELF UP, GIRL!" I went to the bathroom (crying) & tried unsuccessfully to clean my shirt. (That bitch wasn't a nun, she was a damn TERRORIST!) There was no way that I could stay and face her much less speak in front of all of those people, especially after she had just humiliated me in front of EVERYONE. When I came out of the bathroom, there was no one around because they were all in the auditorium. So I bolted. I ran as fast as I could all the way home. Free @ last! My home, my safe haven! I literally ran all the way into the front door. & I mean ran INTO the front door. It was locked & my mother wasn't home. I beat on & kicked the door, crying until my fists and toes were bruised. I finally gave up trying to get in & sat on the front steps feeling exposed & vulnerable. I wasn't inside yet, I wasn't with my mother, so I wasn't yet really safe. Being only 9 years old, it didn't occur to me to go hide somewhere in the apartment complex. My mom eventually got home & asked why I was there. I was hysterical telling her about Sr. 'Malice' & her verbal and emotional torture & humiliation. I felt so relieved to finally cry hysterically, and tell my mom, my protector what that hateful woman had done. I was finally feeling safe & that hateful nun came knocking on the door & expressed her sincere concern for my where abouts in her sweetest (fake) voice. (She only noticed I was gone because I wasn't there for my speaking part.) In my opinion, since the nun was now IN my apartment, my mother should have @ the very least told her off. (If it were me, & someone had done that to my child, I probably would've seized the opportunity to inflict some sort of physical pain on her!!!) No, my mother had me change clothes and MADE me go back! (I had to walk back with Sister Malice literally holding onto me so I wouldn't take off again. Of course I had to listen to her bitch me out all the way back to the school.) How the hell does that make sense? I've just spent all week being tortured by this hag & those kids, here it is the weekend, my off time, my only time to recuperate from the abuse & prepare myself for more & I have to spend it @ that damn school being tortured by that damn woman and those kids! What's worse than that, is that Sister Malice followed me to what should've been my 'sacred ground', my safe place. She came to my home! & my own mother betrayed me and sent me back! Seriously, what did she think? Did she not realize that if it wasn't bad enough before, it was gonna get really bad for me now?!
***Reflecting on all of this & experiencing the flood of emotions that go along with all of the memories, Something has occurred to me... It is absolutely amazing that I ended up a feisty, smart ass bitch with a type A personality, an attitude problem and a real problem with authority as opposed to committing suicide or becoming a serial killer! Seriously, it's crap like this that leads to tragedies like Columbine High!***
Years ago, I heard that nun died in a plane crash. I never felt bad that she died, & I've never felt bad about not feeling bad that she died. I really hated her & I really resented my parents for doing this to me. @ that point, I felt like I could no longer trust my mom either, I felt like I was on my own...
During this time, my parents had taken Billy, a 'wayward' teenage boy as their own. I had befriended him 1st. He had his own issues & He basically moved in. He claimed that I was like a "little sister" to him (a very well developed at an early age little sister). I won't go into great detail, I'll just say that during the next few years (the remainder of 4th. grade, 5th, & 6th. grade) is when I started being physically, sexually & psychologically abused by Billy. I was his punching bag (of course, he always hit me in places that the bruises wouldn't be visible to anyone) & he would do stuff like use my dads police revolver to play Russian Roulette w/ MY HEAD (while my dad slept during the day before going back to work on a night shift). My parents had no idea, & they had no reason to believe that he was hurting me. They honestly believed that he loved me and protected me like a sister. They would've never knowingly put me in that situation. Of course, I didn't say anything. Remember, I had lost trust in them. Actually, what Billy did to me did not compare to what was going on @ school. Yes, he liked to use me as a punching bag, but @ least I could fight back. Of course, fighting back meant that I got hit harder, but it didn't matter. I realized that I could endure quite a lot of physical pain. Physical pain did not make me cry. The fact that I could endure physical pain without crying actually felt 'good'. & the fact that I could fight back was a good outlet. I didn't care if I got hit, because it felt good to be able to 'defend' myself. & you know what? He never told me I was fat or ugly. & He did actually protect me. He could beat up on me, but no one else had better so much as look @ me cross eyed. Don't get me wrong, I hate the S.O.B. for what he did to me & I did eventually tell my parents & being the child of Police officers, I don't know specifics, but I heard that he paid dearly for what he did.
Time to break it down again...
I was very insecure, definitely not a leader, all I wanted was to fit in. I was very self conscious and unsure of myself. I believed that I was fat & ugly.
- To this day, I struggle with weight & appearance. I have a particularly difficult time seeing myself as anything other than fat. Even when wearing a size 2, I look @ myself & see F-A-T!
- If I enter a room and people are whispering or giggling, I automatically feel like they are talking about me.
- I was alone, literally alone.
- I couldn't do anything about what was happening to me @ school. I could not defend myself @ school or I would get in trouble. There was nothing I could do, school administration sided with the money & my parents, the people that I relied on to protect me didn't do anything to help me. I had NO control over anything. I was literally @ the mercy of those that wanted to inflict emotional pain upon me.
- Once Billy was out of the picture, if I was upset, I would sometimes inflict pain on myself to feel better. I wasn't a chronic 'cutter' or anything like that, but I would do things to prove that I was 'strong', that I could handle pain.
So, there it is I've 'bared' my soul (haha spanko humor). Time to continue moving forward.
I just want to say:
1. My eyes are crossing & I just can't go back through and proof read this. So please excuse any typo's, grammatical errors, omissions, etc.
2. I'm glad to report that Misty & some of the other 'mean girls' are now FAT & FLAT! & some of them are even broke! Last I heard, Misty's parents had disowned her because she had gotten pregnant out of wed lock. She had wrecked her car & she was having to walk to her job waiting tables @ a hole in the wall diner on the not so good part of town... WoW! Karma is a BITCH!!!!!