"You're not going to contribute to the conversation anyway because you're so quiet."

My group of best friends in elementary school consisted of three of us. Once we got to middle school, our friend circle expanded, but I remained a very shy person. My "best friend" would always sit next to me at the long lunch table, turning her back completely to me, while she faced the rest of the group and I sat on the end alone with her back in my face.

She would do this any time we were in a big group. Even at my own 13th birthday party. I had invited a bunch of kids I was too shy to actually talk to. Everyone sat in a cluster with their chairs to talk, and she stuck her chair right in front of mine to block me from the group.

One day, I finally got up the courage to tell her to stop doing this. I guess a tiny piece of me still believed that she wasn't aware of what she was doing, that my best friend couldn't be that unnecessarily cruel on purpose. 

After I confronted her, she said, "I could stop doing it, but you're not going to contribute to the conversation anyway because you're so quiet, so it's pointless."

She never stopped. 

We are grown up now and haven't seen or spoken to each other in decades. I am much stronger now, and have acknowledged that I never deserved to be a victim of her sadistic acts of micro-cruelty. And that she was a completely miserable human being.

But nevertheless, the way she made me feel during adolescence will always stick with me.

"I love how tiny and adorable you are!"

"I love how tiny and adorable you are!"

Growing up, I would hear countless compliments on how small and petite I was. 

When puberty hit, anorexia took over. Because as a shy girl, my small size was the only thing people ever noticed about me.

Now "recovered," I hate myself even more.

"You sound like an evil witch."

My friends and everyone else always loved my laugh. They would tell me that it was unique and that it made them want to laugh, too. 

I remember sitting in the classroom with my friends, doing our work. We had a substitute teacher that day, so it was just fun stuff.

At one point I was laughing so hard that my friends were laughing with me. Then the substitute teacher interrupted and said, "That's your real laugh? You sound like an evil witch. Don't laugh."

The rest of the day I was completely quiet. She was the first person to hate my laugh.

Dirty Shoes

I was a new student, just moved from the south side of town. At age seven, I had no idea what class was, or that I was in a different social class. 

A girl told me I was poor and that my shoes were dirty.

She bullied me and picked on me all the way until high school, making fun of the way I dressed.

I will never forget her. She made me feel terrible about myself. She taught me what "poor" meant.

Worthless.

My biological father informed me at a ripe age of 7 that I would never amount to anything. That I was worthless.

When I was 8, my father disappeared from my life completely. My mother told me that he had found someone else, who happened to be pregnant, and he was going to raise her kids. 

I felt broken. I wondered what was so wrong with me that he would abandon me, yet choose to raise someone else's kids. Not a day went by that I didn't wonder why, where he was, how he was doing, etc. 

Approximately 25 years later, in 2010, I randomly searched for him on Facebook. Two profiles appeared on my screen. My heart sank. I did not even know if my father was alive. 

I clicked on the first profile. A picture of a young man, that looked surprisingly similar to me, appeared. I clicked on the second profile, and up popped a picture of my father.

I made contact with him and it was a bit awkward. He came out to Oklahoma to visit and meet his grandson. We still communicate, mainly via Facebook. I will definitely take that over wondering if he is alive.

"You're so boring"

My boyfriend and I had gone a month without seeing each other until he finally could come to Pennsylvania to see me.

He came in March so it was still cold, with some snow on the ground, and a thin sheet of ice still on the ponds. He was from Texas and never had seen that much snow, and definitely never saw a pond frozen the way it was.

He started off by throwing ice onto the pond to see it shatter. He thought it was so cool, so he started to take some ginger steps onto it.

I told him to be careful because it was only 2 or 3 inches deep, and then he got on the ice. It started to crack and he almost broke through before he got back onto the bank, all while I told him to get out so he didn't fall through.

He made it back to the bank, laughing. He told me I was so boring. 

He complained the rest of the trip that I was boring and wouldn't get on the ice with him.

I guess the girl he slept with and broke up with me for was more interesting.

Too hairy.

A few months ago I was dating a guy who always told me that I was too hairy and that no one would love me.

These comments stuck to me like glue.

I asked one of my closest friends what he thought and his only response was, "Well you are really hairy, but I love you, so only one of those things is correct."

It hurt knowing that two people who were very important to me thought this. I constantly wondered who else thought this was true.

Shortly after my friend's comment I broke up with the guy and stopped talking to my friend.

Then I started dating another guy but never asked him if I was too hairy until today. His answer? "No." 

"Your feelings are completely valid."

"Did your dad ever tell you to play a different instrument?"

He said it casually, glancing at the large double bass resting like a faithful bloodhound beneath my feet. 

I was so shocked and irritated that I had no reply. Why do I need to play a different instrument? Why do I need my dad's approval? 

What stuck with me wasn't just what he said. It was what my dad, my then-boyfriend, and his father said to me. 

"You're overreacting." 

"He's just trying to be friendly." 

"It's not that big a deal." 

Anytime I mentioned in front of that boyfriend, he would get angry and say, "You're still upset about that? Just let it go." I stopped talking about it with him. I stopped mentioning it to anyone, but the comment lingered in the back of my brain every time I went out to a gig with my bass.

What also stuck with me was the complete relief when I finally felt safe enough to bring it up with one of my professors. When she heard it, all she said was, "Your feelings are completely valid. What that man said was wrong, and he shouldn't have said it." 

There was no argument. No trying to explain. Just complete acceptance and understanding.

Fan Mail

Thank you for this project. It is meaningful in many ways. And I believe you've assisted in setting many people free of these seemingly innocent but still hurtful words. You've definitely helped me realize that I have the ability to acknowledge it happened, but that I don't have to continue to carry his comments with me. His words are not my truth.

"The reason you can't dive is because of your back fat"

The summer I turned 12 years old, I spent a lot of time at the local swimming pool. There was always something so calming about the water, whether it was the pool, the lake, the river. Playing in and being surrounded by water made me so comfortable. Being that comfortable was not a luxury I often had in my life, so I was especially thankful for these "retreats." 

I had been working on perfecting my dive for a week or two, trying hard to keep up with those who made it look so effortless. I was so proud of the progress I had been making.

Then a boy I had a mild crush on said to me "The reason you can't dive is because of your back fat," and he laughed.

I was crushed. I had never even realized I had back fat. But as I twisted around and examined my body in the mirror, I did have a slight roll on each side, below my bra line. 

I've had body image issues ever since, struggling with bouts of bulimia among other things.

To this day, when I look in the mirror as I dress, I am reminded of my imperfection, the cruel laughter at my expense.

I think of all the times over the past 15 years that I've silently agreed with him as I disapprovingly gazed at my flaws. And I'm kind of pissed about it, now as I end this story. How much of my self talk I've allowed to echo his voice since that day.

No more.