My Story

I think it is time to tell you all another story.

For some of you, this might be hard to hear. For others of you, it might be hard to face. Believe me when I say, it was definitely hard to live. But honesty is freedom from fear. I will never be completely honest, nor completely free, nor completely unafraid. I can only do what I have never done before. Therefore, let me tell you a story.

Once upon a time there was an average girl. She had dark hair and dark eyes, and she was an intelligent, happy child. She had two parents who didn't get divorced and a younger sister. She lived in a blue house on the East Coast, and played outside and pretended she didn't know how to read.

Once upon a time this average girl grew up - just a little - and had to go to school. She went to public school for the first time as a third-grader. It was hard; there were too many kids, all different from her, all louder and more rambunctious and more aggressive than her. She wilted, like a flower in the harsh summer sun. She failed to adjust, and her mother pulled her out of school.

Once upon a time, a year later, this girl tried again. She wasn't happy, but she was stubborn. She put her head down and found things to like about school. She made tentative acquaintances. She hid her fear and worry and sadness and discomfort in attitude and sarcasm. She learned to build walls to hide from the world. She stayed in school.

Once upon a time, this girl spiraled downward. She knew things that children shouldn't know. She understood too much of what happened around her. She saw that she was different, and how the other kids treated those who are different. She understood right and wrong, active and passive. She chose to be passive in the hopes that no one would think she was wrong. She chose silence; she chose hiding. She chose to fade...away.

Once upon a time, this average girl went to middle school. She suffered: it was bigger, it was louder, it was meaner than elementary school. She set her teeth and reinforced her walls and heard only the phrase "You must." So she did. She stayed in school. She got sick a lot; not sick in the body, but sick in the mind. She fought private wars and killed her classmates in dreams. She screamed, inside, and she covered her ears and pasted a sarcastic smile on her face so she didn't have to hear the noise.

Once upon a time, this middle-school girl came to a dark place. She came to a place some adults don't ever reach. She looked at herself in the mirror and she saw a body of lies and deceptions and taunts. She wasn't bullied and she wasn't a bully. She was invisible. She was a 'good student.' She was just...another...statistic.

Once upon a time this girl went to high school, still gritting her teeth, still screaming inside. She tried to fight; she tried to cut and run. She failed. She followed the rule of "You must" and went to high school. She performed well; she endured. Happiness was...inconsequential. Happiness was for people who liked themselves and felt needed in the world.

Once upon a time, this high school girl tried to change. Just a little, just enough to like herself. And she liked the changes she saw. She liked them so much, she decided to make bigger changes. The changes snowballed; the consequences grew. This girl became anorexic. She counted every mouthful, and each mouthful, each number, carried her farther from the world she had never been a part of. She began to forget what was real and what wasn't.

Once upon a time, this anoreixc girl became afraid. She was intelligent; she knew what was happening. Finally the consequences became so severe she couldn't ignore them. She broke under the weight of "You must." She broke, and she found that breaking isn't the end of the world. Breaking means that others help you rise. She learned to ask for help. Just a little. But it was enough to save her life. It was enough to give her a life.

Once upon a time, this broken girl lifted her head and said "I am me." She fought hard to find out who this 'me' was, and she is still fighting. But she has owned the sadness and fear and pain. She has owned the feelings of loneliness and grief and inadequacy. She has accepted that she is a 'me' and not a 'you.' She doesn't follow the rule of "You must" any more.

This is the story of a girl. This is my story. I hope you can understand; I hope I've told it in a way that helps you see that it's your story too. We all have "You must" in our lives. We all have our stories. I am not anything special. I am not the best or worst among all the humans that have ever lived on this little blue planet orbiting an ordinary star. But I am a 'me' and not a 'you.' The world tries to say that "You must." I'm here to say that "I am me."

WolfGrrl