Most people who know me think of me as some strong, determined, goal set, non-emotional girl. I know that for a fact since I’ve been called all of those adjectives and more. And I know they aren’t meant as insults. Those adjectives would mean a lot to me… if they were true.
Truth is I’m the biggest emotional wreck I know. I’ve gone through hell and back. I’m not saying I have the worst life out there. I know I don’t. But compare my life with most seventeen year old girls and who’d start to think I either need a therapy session or my own reality show. It’s bad. I’ve had to experience the loss of a brother, the bullying of classmates, and just horrible people in general. Not exactly what I want in a television show.
My brother died when I was only fifteen. He had been diagnosed with Ewing Sarcoma when I was in the seventh grade. I was only thirteen at the time. Coming quickly upon my fourteenth birthday. At first it was totally bad. Yes, he was in pain, but it wasn’t a terrible pain. And after a year of hospital visits. Of being in the hospital bed for a week every month. Of having little to no sleep until exhaustion took over. He got better…. But only for the moment.
It got a lot worse in my ninth grade. Beginning of that year (2010), he had to go back to the hospital for more than regular visits. It got even worse when he was placed into a bed and couldn’t even get out. We had a hospital bed shipped to the house and he stayed in the bed. He had an Xbox 360, a netbook, and his friends to entertain him.
I think that’s what bugged me most about it. Don’t get me wrong, I hated everything that had to do with this. My brother was dying before my eyes, how could I not hate the thing that was killing him? But socially wise? I wanted to rip off anyone’s head that had the nerve to talk to me about it. At school, the counselor openly asked me how everything was at home. I had never been to a counselor’s office before and for her to just ask me in the middle of a classroom is what set me off. I didn’t even talk the rest of that school day.
March is when everything got bad. I have a short story posted on my account about what happened that night, so I won’t go over that portion.
On to the bullying. Yes, bullying. The thing everyone talks about and everyone’s been a part of. I’ll admit it. I’m not scared. I’ve bullied kids before. But never to the point of making them cry or making them tell on me. It was light teasing, but that was only that. And yes, I know, it was a stupid and immature experience. But it was a one-time thing. But the other side of my bullying. ME being the one bullied. It was bad all throughout elementary. Kids at my first elementary school would out right call me names or slap my back or trip me. It was never easy.
The one friend who I lived next to would ignore me completely at school. And then expect me to be buddy-buddy with her when she was bored at home. My second elementary school was worse, but I think that’s only because my mom worked at the school. The bullying continued and it was always out of sight or earshot of her. I never bothered to tell anyone because I figured it’d be a waste of time. What would happen anyways? The kid would be forced to sit on the stage steps during lunch and they’d be free to go? Not really a punishment. So I let it go.
Middle school was when I started biting back. Kids were a lot more cruel and vicious. People found out about my brother and one girl called me out on it. Saying I had made the whole thing up for attention. Now I’ve told people I know now that I had cursed her out and had bit back at her. The truth? I cried. I stood there; taking every insult she had and let tears fall. That day she decided to do that? That was the day he was admitted for pneumonia. I didn’t really know a lot about it at the time and expected the worse. I figured you add pneumonia and cancer and that could only mean a faster death right? So when she started talking about all of the outcomes of my “imaginary” brother. I shut down.
Horrible people are always around the corner. The thing to do though is to be more observant. I’ve lived a hell of a life and honestly? Sometimes I couldn’t wait for death to come. I sometimes wished the roles were reversed and it was me in the hospital bed. But when I talk to my best friends and I look at my parents I’m reminded that even though I’ve put up with the worst of the dog pile, I’ve got people who love me and keep me sane. Even if they generally are the ones to make me go insane in the first place.