Olive Oyl

My mom always pointed out everything that was beautiful about all of my friends, but she always called me Olive Oyl because I was skinny and uncoordinated.

"No one will find that attractive."

My style has always been a bit alternative. Even after having my daughter at 18, I kept my look. Pink and black hair, a tattoo (planned to get more), piercings (also planning for more), the works. I had a dream of becoming an alternative model, which I thought was the epitome of beautiful. When I was 19, I had a set plan. I was going to polish myself up a bit and send in some shots. 

My husband at the time told me I was crazy, and that, "No one's going to want to look at your half naked, post baby body. No one will find that attractive. I find it attractive because I love you." 

That hurt me so bad, I cried myself to sleep that night. 

I eventually divorced that ass, and now, eight years later, I've never been happier.
 

Amazing Nurse

I was in one of my last semesters of nursing school with a teacher who was known to play favorites. We were doing a simulation on a mannequin, and I had to start an IV with supplies I wasn't familiar with. I stopped for a moment to look at the equipment, and the teacher said to everyone, "That's the kind of nurse we do this to!" She then proceeded to push me aside and do the simulation herself. 

I dropped her class the next day and then went on to become an amazing nurse.
 

"You're always eating!"

I so clearly remember the day that I started self-hating that it almost hurts to think about.

I had eaten a stupid chocolate bar that my mom had been saving to eat later. It wasn't the first time I'd done this. She walked in to the kitchen and yelled, "What the hell are you eating now?! You're always eating! You're too fat! You need to go on a diet!" 

Now, two years later, I have depression and anxiety, although she (along with the rest of my family) has failed to realize it. Every time I look in a mirror, the only thing running through my head is that stupid comment made by my own mother.

Please think about what you say to your kids. They remember every word you say to them, even when you don't.
 

"Do it where I won't find you."

My mom told me recently: "Do me a favor, if you're going to kill yourself, do it where I won't find you."

Supporting Character

I started seeing a therapist about a year ago. One of the main issues we talked about was how I felt like the supporting character in everyone's life, and how I sacrifice my own needs to make others happy. 

At one point, she accidentally called me by the name of a friend of mine who we had been discussing. The therapist didn't catch her mistake, so I corrected her. Instead of apologizing for her own mindless slip and moving on, she said, "It's so interesting how you seem to be fading into the background in relationships and having your friends overpower you, even in our session."

It made me so angry that this therapist used her own absentminded word mixup as some sort of brilliant revelation of how I am inherently someone who is less important and prominent in relationships. I could tell that she was so pleased with herself for making this connection. 

Of course, knowing what you already know about me, it took me six months to finally stand up for myself and leave this therapist for good. 

Between Classes

One day when I was 11 and in 6th grade, everyone was in the hallway switching between classes, and a kid I thought was my friend told me to go kill myself. 

Seven other classmates who were around agreed loudly and high-fived the original guy for saying what they were thinking.

"I need you to get away from me."

"You're a cynical, negative person. I love you, but I need you to get away from me."

Four years together. Done with the press of a button. 

I've never forgotten, or gotten over, those words. I never saw or heard from her after she spoke them. I guess I only have myself to blame, but I spend every waking moment just wishing she'd have been more patient, just wishing she could have seen me change. 

Her leaving put me in more of a sour mood since then. Just wishing I wouldn't have to get up every morning, or fall asleep at night, since all I ever did was stare up at the ceiling until I forgot what it ever was to smile at the sky. 

I loved her so much, I forgot what hating myself ever felt like. 

Now it's all I can remember.
 

"You're not the same."

My daughter was born premature. Extremely premature. She weighed 1lb, 3oz, and was not supposed to survive. On top of that, I almost didn't survive either. I was hospitalized for months, I had an emergency C section, and I faced losing my daughter every day after that for months until she was stable enough.

And I went through it all without a comforting hand beside me. 

Throughout it all, I was being abused by my (now ex) husband. 

One day, while waiting for our daughter to be released from surgery, I confronted him. Why was he so cruel to me? Why did I deserve the pain? 

He looked me in the eyes and told me this one thing: "You're not the girl I fell in love with. You're not the same. You were so sweet and happy. And now you're bitter and hateful. The world darkened you, and you're not the same." 

That was why I deserved his abuse, which was the very thing that made me bitter. 

That was why I deserved being left alone to go through this ordeal, which was the very thing that darkened me.

It's been five years, and I now have depression and anxiety. I have a hard time with my relationships. I never know if I can trust the man I'm with, for numerous reasons. 

I'm the girl who apologizes for existing. 

He was right. I'm not the same.

My Nose

When I was 15, I was unamused by Beyonce's Super Bowl performance, so I posted a picture on Tumblr with a comment about how she was dressed like a hoe or something like that. I don't even know, it's been years, and I don't really have the same mindset anymore. 

A famous blog found it, posted it, and I got thousands of death threats in the course of 2 days. Funnily enough, the death threats weren't what bothered me. When people weren't attacking my statement, they started attacking everything they knew about me. One person told me my nose was huge and ugly. 

Prior to this, I had never seen anything wrong with my nose. It looked like a normal nose to me. Then, it was like, bam. Every day all I've ever been able to see is how big my nose is. How ugly it is. Even four years later, I look back at pictures I took then and notice that they were angled differently because I apparently didn't know what an ugly nose I had. 

Looking back now it's really surprising to me that I still carry that hatred for my nose. It's not crooked or hooked or anything (which is perfectly normal and sometimes beautiful for noses) but I am still, to this day, really self conscious about my nose. That's what stuck with me, I guess.