"You're going to be a failure."

One time my mom took my sister and me to the beach, and she dropped us off while she went to look for parking. Once she had found a parking spot, she texted me to meet her and lead her to the spot where we were sitting. Since it was a particularly crowded day, I had some trouble finding the spot where we'd set up. 

It wasn't long before she started exploding at me, calling me retarded for not being able to find where we were sitting. Even after I started crying, she continued to insult me. The worst thing she said was, "You'll never make it in college because you can't even do the simplest of tasks. You're going to be a failure." 

She never once apologized for how she treated me. 

Now that I'm a freshman in college, I suffer from depression and anxiety because of fear of failing or messing up anything I do. 

Dunce Voice

I was never the best at math, and I didn't quite have a loving home environment (I still don't). 

On day, I brought home an "F" from math class. I already felt low about it; who feels good about failing? My parents (predictably) got upset, but what really stuck with me was my father mocking me. He followed me around the house, into my room, saying in a "dunce" voice, "Duuuuhhh. I'm (my name), I'm smart enough to get Fs. Duuuuuuuuhhh." 

I had already been in tears, but that pushed me over. 

Sadly, that wasn't the first time that my father verbally abused me, and it still happens to this day. But that time really stuck, and it still pierces my heart.
 

"You'll be a starving artist all your life."

I am very insecure about my art.

My mom has always encouraged me to do my best, and I know she would support me no matter what. My dad, on the other hand, is a "realist." 

"Your art style is too anime." 

"You have to draw more realistically." 

"No one would want to buy something like that." 

"You'll be a starving artist all your life." 

I just want to be me. Why did you have to put me down?
 

"Get a life!"

In the past I've struggled a lot with anxiety, depression, PTSD, and bipolar. Lately I've been struggling with agoraphobia, or the fear of going outside. I've been indoors 90% of the time for a number of years, and I'm trying to work through it now.

I stopped going to public school sophomore year. I can't handle the environment, with timed expectations and feeling like people have their eyes on me when I mess up, so I take classes at home through the school. Every so often I have to go to the high school to do paperwork or something. My anxiety gets to me pretty often, but I try my hardest to relax and keep my head up. Keeping happy is my way of getting back at all the misfortune in my life, even if it's difficult. 

One day as I was getting ready to go to the high school to do some errands, I decided for the first time in forever that I wanted to dress up a little. Feeling confident makes it easier for me to go outside. It makes me feel like if people look at me, they won't judge what they see. 

As I was getting ready to cross the street to go home, someone sped by in a car and screamed at me, "GET A LIFE!" 

I stood and stared at the street for a moment. I felt like a paper thin glass bottle getting dropped on the ground. I wanted to sit down and cry, but I wanted even more desperately to just go back home and be inside. Indoors, nobody would call me names or tell me what to do with my life. 

I wanted to stop that car and shriek into his ears, "Do you know what you've just done to me? Do you know what I am going through? It took every single ounce of my energy to get out of bed today, and you have the audacity to tell me to get a life. I'm trying. I'm TRYING to get a life and I'm TRYING to maintain it. You don't know what it's like to get up with the intentions of going outside, look at the front door for fifteen minutes, undo the deadbolt, and then start crying and go back to bed because people like you make me wish I had never been born. I hope you're happy with yourself. I worked up every last bit of courage I had to walk out the front door today and you shattered it. You took it and threw it in a trash compactor." 

The three words he screamed at me made me feel empty and alone. It kept me wondering what I did wrong. What did I do to deserve that scream? What did I do to make you hate me? Just exist? 

Since then I've been working on going outside more. It isn't as scary now as it was then. I went out all on my own today and applied for a number of jobs. It feels good to smile and look people in the eyes, shake their hands and introduce myself. Even if I don't get the job(s), I'm happy with myself because I tried. 

I have a life. I'm doing all I can with it. With what I've been through in my life, trying and succeeding even at little tasks is more than just "enough." 

I'm excelling in places I never thought I would, and that is what makes me happy.

"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.
 

"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.

Asexuality

I recently started coming out as asexual to my family and close friends. It's something I'm still figuring out myself, and am trying not to be insecure about. It's hard when people close to me make comments like this:

"You just haven't had enough experience with relationships yet. Once you've had a good relationship this should change. If it doesn't, you should get your hormones checked. You might want to get counseling to see if trauma caused this." - My mother

"Well, I don't think you really have enough experience to know for sure." - My best friend

"You probably haven't found the right person yet. You just have to wait." - My cousin

But some friends never fail to bring me up, reassure me, and are supportive of my identity <3

"Your sexuality is valid, and anyone who disagrees is trash." - My ace friend

Career Day

When I was in 7th grade, I mistakenly thought I was supposed to dress up for career day. I didn't know any better. People made fun of me for it, telling me I was weird and stupid. They laughed at me and joked about me. 

This was the moment in which I became extremely aware of myself. I started to get my entire self worth from other people's meaningless jokes, side comments, and attention. 

I am now in 11th grade with social anxiety, and can't even talk to people I don't know or only sort of know without crying and hyperventilating. Those comments definitely stuck with me.

"I hope to God I never have a kid like you."

When I was little, I had a lot of emotional problems and developed PTSD. Because of my anxiety disorder, I was very particular about things that literally didn't matter at all. 

One year on Christmas Eve when I was 6, I decided that the ginger bread house I had made with my uncle and cousin wasn't right, so I wanted to do it over again. This upset my uncle because we had spent hours on it and now I was persistent that we had to start over. 

After arguing with him for a while, I finally stormed off in a tantrum about the situation and went to the living room to cry and vent. A few minutes later he came over to me, and I hoped he would comfort me. Instead, he proceeded to tell me words that would stick with me forever. 

He said, "You acted like a brat!" He sighed and continued with, "and I hope to God I never have a kid like you." 

He was about 30 at the time and had his first child 5 years later. While he's never apologized to me for the incident, his son has problems of his own, and I like to think that he now regrets saying that to me all those years ago. 

Regardless, to this day we don't have much of a relationship, and I generally avoid spending Christmas with my extended family to avoid incidents like this.
 

"I'm sick to death of you!"

I was maybe five years old, and my grandparents had been upset with me every day that summer. I still don't know why. 

I remember sitting on the couch and my grandfather was scolding me for something. 

He said, "I'm sick to death of you!" 

This not only made me feel horrible, but it scared me. As a little kid I thought, "I'm so bad, I'm going to kill my grandfather!" 

This has come up in therapy a few times.