Looking Back...

Time for s sappy post. Don't care who reads it, if anyone, but this is directed towards the ones I've known since the first day of school, if not before.

I remember when we were in day care, how a lot of you were brutes. You were either super kind or quite evil. We would play, nap, eat, watch movies, and then drive each other nuts.

In kindergarten, everything was new again. We didn't know what it meant to be in school. And, if you were like me, you didn't know how to interact with others. I will never forget the first play time we had in Mrs. Tedlock's class. I had no idea what to do or think. I looked around. I saw some kids, like Justin B, playing with the toy hammers and making double sided nails go into boards.
I saw others playing the sing-song clap games. Then, I saw two kids at a table with the game memory. Carter and Kendra. Forgive me for bringing this up, but you two were the first to ever actually include me in anything, when it comes to those my age. From then, I looked up to you both.

In first grade, we began to truly learn the fundamental basics. We also began to learn how cruelty and bullying could effect each other. It was rather harsh to have the bullying from day care follow to school, but it happened nonetheless and nothing will change that. My main comfort came with Brandy W. She was the first that actually called me a friend and we were closer than close. It's been years since I've seen her, but I still call her my sister when she's brought up in conversation.

In second grade, we started to try and find who we associated with. Many believe that such a thing begins in middle school / Junior High School. However, it begins well before that. And, for some, it begins before any schooling at all. I still get remarks from friends and old classmates on how they still remember dad as "The Bird Man" for bringing in the parrots we had and showing them to every class of my year and I think even some of the others. And it warms his heart, as well, when they approach him about it.

In third grade, we began to learn more things that were directed at opening and broadening the mind. We were introduced to music class and were taught to try and seek out more than just ourselves. To let music flow through you, as light does through glass or water through a canyon, is a truly wondrous feeling. It fills you and can either make you fly to the farthest star or sink to the lowest depth of the ocean and drown. We were taught to reach out and aim for more than our teeny bopper tendencies, though that in and of itself would take time.

In fourth grade, we learned even more things. We were taught how to make models and use cursive and to experiment. Science was always interesting, especially when we began learning how to test each of the five senses. Science, in and of itself, might as well be a sixth sense. And, in my opinion, what a person excels in IS a sixth sense to them on a personal level.

In fifth grade, we learned the powers of poetry and word usage. We learned the usage of study and to weigh situations. Yet, all through this, we managed to stay young in our ways with each other. What else would you expect?
I hoped, each year, that the bullying would slow. But it did not. One thing I still look back on and try to understand is how easy it is to target and continue to target certain people, practically from day one. Though it does not bother me hardly at all anymore, I still remember the virus joke from fifth grade. Kids would come up and poke me and then run to someone else and say "isabelle germs. Pass it on or you'll get sick." Back then, it hurt so badly to be unwanted and treated quite like the plague. I would push myself at recess, more towards the end, to the point that I'd make myself sick. Even a small acid reflex was enough to land me in the nurse's office. Why? So I didn't have to deal with a lot of the taunting and teasing. I wasn't the only one who was bullied, and I wish we'd found how to deal with things sooner.

Then, sixth grade began. As always, every year we grew stronger. Some with our studies, some with our vanity, and some...with our cruelty. I learned to love English that year, despite constantly having to deal with two boys tossing my pencil box in the trash or running around with it to keep it from me.. When my mother passed that year, I found a very nice outlet. I turned to poetry and drawing. Eventually, with the help of some friends, stories came about too. But that comes later. Sixth grade was when a lot of us started to show our true colors. It was also a time when we noticed a lot of pigtails going away and curling irons coming forth...

Seventh grade was a regretful year. I was two or three classes away from legally failing the year. Why? Haha...not that you care, but I'll tell you. I let seventh grade pretty much be what I had to show for the past years of not trying to fit in with many of my peers. As they had worked themselves into groups, I had just wanted to find someone who would just be a friend. However, this year I was more focused on trying to fit in than my schooling that it was quite harmful in the end. And it did no good either way. The only thing it did was manage to humiliate me. One thing I've never forgotten, though it more amuses me than anything now, was a prank. A few people had figured out that I'd had a crush on someone since the first grade. What did they do? They worked out a prank. They had him come up to me, during a free day in gym class, and ask me out. I said yes, in as calm a manner as I could, and he walked back to his friends. Inside, I was leaping for joy. But, not a minute later, he walked back and said he wanted to break up and that it wasn't working out. I did my best not to show any emotion, though inside I wanted to die. I knew I'd been played and by more than just the few in the group he was with. It hurt, but kids are vicious as we all know.

Eighth grade wasn't much better than seventh, aside from my grades. The prank from the previous year had me pretty cautious with most people in who I did and didn't trust. It wasn't long after that that I found my first female crush. She didn't even know I existed, and probably still doesn't know I used to like her. Not saying who; it honestly doesn't matter. However, the cruelty that revolved around me "coming out" was strange. It wasn't so much that they made gay jokes or anything like that. It was how people changed their view. Some of the guys actually befriended me, treating me like a person, where some saw me as a freak. Same with the girls. However, I found a little comfort in art class. Though we were limited in what we were allowed to do, it was a nice way of expressing. This was during the second year of my raw untrimmed gothic phase, that later molded itself into something more manageable. I still use the bowl I made for rinsing my paint brushes, when I can find it. Joining choir was another wonderful thing. Finally, a way to yell and have it come out beautifully. I could not sight read, nor did I try. Reading music seemed useless. I learned the music by listening and watching. I listened, to the teacher and those around me, in my section and others. I listened to how we sounded as a section, as a group, and as individuals. I poured my heart out, as well as I could, and I will never regret it.

~There is one thing I'd like to say, on behalf of my Jr. High self. Never use the death of a parent against someone or use that to hurt them. That darkened me greatly. How? I was in science with my class and we were about to start a project. We needed to find partners. I went to many groups but they didn't want me in it. Surprise surprise. When I went to one, I'll never forget what one person said. "Oh my freaking god, you're so annoying! No wonder your mom killed herself!"
This hit me hard. Very hard. And I snapped, letting a good bit of the dark I'd bottled up out for moment. I replied, more to shut him up than anything. "Then here.I'll solve your problem. Grab me by my feet and swing me around a few times. Pick up speed and then swing my neck over the top ends of the fence. I'll bleed out and won't be a problem anymore"
Though the teacher stepped in, I'll never forget how those words felt and tasted in my mouth, nor the feeling as I saw the look in the eyes of the kid who stooped so low as to say what he did...

Ninth grade, our Freshman year, was unnerving. Senior High school. The big leagues. And a total nightmare that changed my life for the better. Again, the bullying was present. However, there was still a familiar outlet. Choir. Though I never once went to a single competition or event, short of our school concerts, I still practiced with the class with what we were taught. During this year, I learned choreography along with new songs. Throughout three years, counting the previous in Jr. High, I went from a high soprano to an alto. Choir helped channel much anger and fear, letting me cope. Gym was my greatest source of aggravation. I began to change for class in the stalls, since I always got shitty looks from the other girls. They knew I was bisexual and acted as though I was eyeing them every day. So, I did my best to prove them otherwise. Lunch, oddly enough, was another source of calm. Jumping from table to table, I found a little comfort in the company of a few groups that would tolerate me. One of which, I almost wish I'd never sat with. I'd formed another crush, which almost everyone I knew was aware of, and to this day have never faced. I nearly have, many times, and half heartedly tried, but never did directly. I'm sort of happy I didn't, though it ate me alive ever single day.

Our Sophomore year was easier to deal with. Not much differed from my freshman year. More classes, different classes, and just new ways to deal with the bullying. Spring of 2011, in April I believe, I did something that hadn't happened since I was a little girl. I had my hair cut. The last time that had happened, my mom did it and made it so short, my father thought I was a boy when she dropped me off... This time, however, I dyed my hair. It was nice and different. I felt rather unique and, for the first time, was happy not fitting in.

Junior year was a little hit and miss. It was more of a time to start figuring out which colleges we were going to join and what we wanted to do with our lives, on a more serious manner. Things had honestly gotten better, this year.

Senior year was a bit of a fall out. I dyed my hair, countless times. Pierced my lip. Had been stretching my ears. Dressed as a male, or as much as Punk I could get away with in school. I stopped caring about the bullying. I stopped giving a single shit about what kids thought of me. It had worn down on me so much that, to my own regret, I even tried to end it all. That's why I was gone twice in April, for five days each. I had voluntarily been admitted the first time. The second was involuntary and still confusing, since nothing happened to need it yet, since I was under a risk watch, saying anything out of the acceptable norm was risky for them to hear.
However, I have not tried to self harm in over a year nor do I have the desire to. I will, eventually, tattoo over my old scars. That is a past I do not want to explain to my daughter, no matter how much she asks, until she is past old enough to handle it... Children are susceptible and will pick up on things very easily.

So, where are most of us now? Some of us are in college. Some of us have part/full time jobs. Some have settled down. Some even have children.
Where am I?
I am in the position that was said by student and staff alike, clear through at least my senior year in high school. I am married, have a beautiful baby girl, work a $10-$13 p/hr job that I love, own a home, and am comfortable.

My advice to the kids out there, today?
Don't hurt those around you. It'll only be your downfall.
And don't let others get to you, in a harmful way.
Would you like some comforting words?
Those that make you feel like shit, because they are either beautiful and vane or athletic and active, will be pitiful in the end.
The athletic people, who are not still athletic after school, will gain weight and lose that "charm" they had during school, as well as their advantage they had against the rules. Star Athletes, even in Jr. & Sr. High, get away with almost anything...as you well know.
Those girls who you probably envy will lose their glow. I've noticed many of them have gained probably 30-50 pounds since the end of their schooling. They don't have people to fawn over them, can't crush people anymore who they don't see as equals or higher, and have lost their drive to keep pretty.
The ones that were called freaks, fat, geeks, nerds, outcasts, and the like...such as many of the people I still call friends, they will be the ones that you see as happy.

They don't have their parents hanging over their necks, trying to talk them into a college or job that they hate. They have the ambition to look for something they love.

So, just focus on what matters and learn to love with a full heart...and see with open eyes.
November 19th, 2014 at 10:12pm