Testimony

This is a testimony from a girl who has been suicidal. I loathed life, and I didn’t want to live anymore. I wanted the suffering to stop, and I wanted to stop hating myself every morning and night. Something changed in me and my outlook on where I am still alive today. I’m so appreciative to have had such an incredible mother to see my suffering and to get help when I needed it. I suffered at a young age of self-loathing hatred and social anxiety. I wasn’t born with this in my mind, and I didn’t have a tragic childhood experience that leads me to this mindset. What did affect me were the environment and society.

We are not the products of our environment. Years and years of my life I have tried to fit into this traditional southern society. If you are unaware of what a southern society is then ill break it down for you. A traditional southern society or culture is an exclusive culture to which you are either a part of or you’re a complete outcast.

In a southern society, you would go to church every Sunday with your family including your grandparents. You go to church, and that was not up for debate. If you aren’t religious, that doesn’t matter because you are. Sorry. If you have beliefs that challenge the sermon then you need to read the Bible again. Your interpretation wasn’t faithful.

I didn’t recognize religion until I was in my 20’s. I was so isolated from the church that I would’ve considered myself agnostic. That’s a big no-no in the south. If you aren’t highly devoted to God then you wore not a part of our community.

After church, you would eat dinner or lunch and having a meal with loved ones. But with a southern way of life the man is usually the one who sits at the head of the table and the women constantly readjust their seating to account for the men in the family. The conversation you may ask? Well, if it wasn’t male-dominated then, it would be in favor of a man. A man can get praised for saying the most ignorant statements while a woman would be criticized for her lack of knowledge.

I let my mouth run wild a few times and this was highly criticized. I wasn’t allowed to say what I believed or to question a man because that’s not what ladies do. Then don’t call me a lady. I learned to shut up and listen. I grew tired of listening to absurd statements and ideas without proven logic. I wanted to debunk their statements with logic and studies that I had physically read about. I wanted to speak about politics, social injustices, and the environment. Girls don’t know anything about the world unless if its what a man told them to think. What do I know? I’m just a young girl who doesn’t know when to bite her tongue. I guess you can say there is something I’m not good at and that’s knowing when to be quiet. I didn’t fit into my own family’s dynamic because I didn’t understand social norms.

How a lady is supposed to look:

Not only is the patriarchy still alive and well in southern culture but also the hierarchy is also alive and well. You may be wondering what hierarchy I am suggesting? Body image in women and men completely different. It’s completely absurd but in a southern culture young women are gonna have long blonde or brown hair, typically big boobs, slender waist, small butts and a mouth that stays closed. What does a man look like? Well, the exact opposite of a woman. A southern man has the option and the right to be extremely unhealthy in southern society. He’s even praised for being out of shape, and people are calling it a “dad bod.” As if that’s the standard for men.

That mini-rant is now over. As to why would I preface you with background knowledge of southern culture?

Growing up Different:

Since I can remember I’ve been that outcast. I didn’t have a “picture perfect” family. I was raised by a single mom and an absent father. I grew up in a trailer, and I had a brother with severe mental illness. I was far from normal. I couldn’t afford to have my hair highlighted every few months like most of these southern girls, I couldn’t have extremely nice things like Columbia or Patagonia jackets every winter. I was raised with WALMART jackets and Salvation Army hand-me-downs. OR if I was exceptionally fortunate then my mom would score a really good deal at a retail store. I was an easy target for constant bullying.
You don’t look like us then you can’t sit with us:

I was bullied for not having nice clothes by those same girls and that my hair was nappy. I was made fun of for having glasses and I was specially made fun of for being overweight. Yep. Name it, and those girls found anything and everything to hurt my feelings over. It was years of bullying and to the point where if I choose not to say anything to anyone and overlook it then they would leave me alone.

It honestly got a lot worse when I turned 9. I started experiencing puberty at the age of 9 and so my breasts developed rather earlier than most girls and I got asked if I stuffed my bra.
These girls wore so insecurely with themselves they thought I would make my boobs look bigger at nine years old just to receive some attention from some boys. It was distressing and I wanted nothing more than to evacuate the school and go home.

Picture perfect is crap.

I haven’t had a father figure in my life and so when girls would talk about how they went fishing with their dads it was another level that I couldn’t connect on. When I got asked about my dad, I would pretend like I didn’t know him or that he was somewhere much further away. I didn’t wanna admit my dad lived 20mins away and choose to ignore his first two children and start over with a new family. Which put a lot of pressure on my mom to raise two children on one salary.

Much appreciated for Rock Bottom:

And eventually, I snapped. Yep. I was 16 years old, and I despised my life so much because I couldn’t seem to fit in with everyone else. I desired to end it all. I wasn’t skinny enough for other girls, and they would bully me because of my weight. I decided at 16 years old that I didn’t wanna live this life anymore. It wasn’t until my mom found out how I was feeling and took me out of school earlier and we sat down in front of a therapist. My mom saved my life. I was overwhelmed with so many emotions and feelings that I was unfit to cope with them on my own. I went to these therapy sessions, and I had someone who could see me. It was liberating. I could breathe and at long last be myself for 1 hour a week. Much appreciated, Laura, for seeing me. It wasn’t that moment that altered my negative feelings but it allowed me to recognize the root of my demons and why they wore there in the first place.
I don’t wanna forget!

Using my Anger for Fuel:

I could establish this entire post about how girls would laugh at me and talk about me. I could list every girl who was cruel to me because I remember them all. I remember the taunting and laughing and I remember every insult that was ushered my way. In true Arya stark fashion, I could presumably take these girls out one by one. That merely isn’t me. But I do wanna remember every insult and even harsh thing those girls did to me because Improve them all wrong. I was declared ugly, fat, and stupid. Not that clever if I say so myself. Why keep all this negativity circling in my brain on a loop? It drives me. I lost nearly 50 pounds, and I’ve become extremely active. Oh, I’m unhealthy then beat me in a race? Or you wanna witness what I lift? Or how about my ass? I’m ugly? Subsequently, your beloved boyfriend wouldn’t be sliding into my DMs. Think again. I’m stupid? This insult was the worst one because being ugly or fat wore two things that I couldn’t improve but I was always gonna be smart. If I’m so stupid then, I won’t be getting a bachelor’s degree and going to med school. So Thank you for adding fuel to my fire. The majority of life has been about proving everyone wrong.