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I found it a bit humorous, she felt I would consider it as an option for myself. The thought never crossed my mind. I was always going to leave. Scholarship or not. Luckily my therapist found someone on campus I can talk to.
“Hurry up. We leave in an hour, fat-ass.” She yells from downstairs. This was why I needed a therapist. Among other things. Graduating high school was akin to shedding a massive amount of baggage.
I have been the victim of bullying that started at middle school. When I turned 13, I woke up one morning with the biggest boobs I had ever seen. They seriously grew overnight. And, let's not talk about my ass. I went from having an average middle school ass to getting something out of a porno, and for what? What the hell was I going to do with all of that? My best friend Macy, who is going to be my roommate, told me that I was lucky. When I got into high school all of the guys would want to date me. On the reverse side, she said all of the girls would hate me. Well, she got half of it right. The girls never stopped hating me and because I am so weird and awkward, none of the guys wanted anything to do with me. Which was just fine.
With all of the new weight I was carrying around, it made me a target for extra bullying. In one day I went from being invisible to hearing, “Fatty-watty ate a catty.” Apparently, they couldn’t come up with anything better or more original than that. Things quickly escalated into tripping me in the halls, pouring food on me at lunch, and spray-painting my locker with obscene names. Seeing as how my mother didn’t care what happened to me, there was no one to fight for me. I endured the humiliation the best I could.
After getting home from school, I would sit in my room and cry. I’d cry my eyes out asking God, ‘Why me. Am I so unworthy. Unlovable. Such a disappointment you decided I am to be the forsaken?’ I tried starving myself a couple of times. Epic fail. Apparently, I love food too much for that to work.
My teachers knew and saw everything. Although, they would reprimand the students in a stern voice, none of them would fight for me. I am trailer park trash compared to their silver spoon students. The one time someone took notice was when I was walking down the stairs towards the microfiche room for a research project. A couple of the cheerleaders were coming up the stairs and as I was passing her and her friend, she put her foot out and I fell down the stairs breaking my arm and collarbone. The librarian heard the fall and came out of her room to check. She saw the girls standing there laughing, then she walked over and took me to the nurse.
I was taken to the hospital and to my surprise the police showed up. They asked me for a recounting of how I fell. I know I should have turned them in, but it would have made it worse for me later. So I lied. I said I was reading a book and missed a step.
It was never quite as bad as that again, but the torment didn’t stop. Finally, my guidance counselor referred me to a therapist the day she walked in on me in the bathroom with a razor blade to my wrist. I was not about to slit my wrist, instead I was going to make a little incision. You know, find a focus for the pain.
The first visit with the therapist was nothing how I expected. She didn’t say anything after introducing herself. She simply stared at me and took notes intermittently. I was so confused and felt so self-conscious because I had no idea what I was supposed to do. When the hour was up, she thanked me for my time, and I left. I stood outside her door for at least ten minutes wondering what exactly she thanked me for. I kept going back time after time, until finally one day I broke and didn’t stop crying the whole 55 minutes.
After that visit I opened up and told her how ugly I felt and how many times I put my head into a noose. A noose I had hung from my ceiling, knowing my mom wouldn’t care. The only thing that stopped me was thinking about leaving my best friend behind. She too was being bullied, which is actually how we found one another.
I told Dr. Lawrence about the time I stood in the middle of the railroad tracks, waiting for a train to come and hit me. After four hours of no trains showing, I gave up and went home to bed.
When I finished telling her everything, she looked at me and said, “Why would you end your life because everyone else has a problem with theirs? They are not mean and brutal to you because their life is perfect. It is quite the opposite. It is their own insecurities that make them lash out at you. They see something in you that threatens them and that my sweet girl is what you hold onto.”
I have no freaking clue what the hell she is talking about, because there is nothing anyone has to be jealous of me for. I took her sweet words anyway and let them become a positive talisman for me to get through the rest of high school. And I made it. Scars and all.
This is why I was so excited, despite the wake up I received, to be getting out of here. College was a fresh start for me. I was going to be surrounded by young adults who had education on their brains. Surely, none of what I endured in high school would be an issue there. At the University of Michigan, I would become someone different and brush off my past.
It didn’t hurt that my best friend was coming with me. She wouldn’t be joining me for two months, because she got her financial aid papers late. They wouldn’t be approved until October, but either way she would be there. Until she came, we had the phone and I had classes. My plan was to keep my head in the books and make my dreams come true.
Needless to say, I ran out of the house as fast as I could. There wasn’t much for me to take with me, except what little clothing I had. I didn’t work during school because I was too busy studying. That is how I earned a full academic scholarship to University. Most of my clothes came from the free shelter down the road. My therapist suggested the place, because she knew my mom wasn’t buying them and I didn’t have the money.
I took a train all the way there, which was a nice change. The train ride from LaGrange Park Illinois took five and half hours and I loved every minute of it. I have never left Illinois, mainly stayed in the town I grew up in, so this was an adventure within an adventure. The people on the train were really nice, talkative, and seemed to genuinely care about what I had to say. Not that I had much to say. But it still made the ride pleasant.
I finally got to the school after having to take a bus from the train station, arriving in the middle of all the chaos. Everyone was coming or going for move-in day, causing the need for a deep breath while taking in my surroundings. I felt different there, as if I could be whoever I wanted, and no one would care. Here, we are all trying to figure things out and navigate this mosh pit called life. I felt…..hopeish.
Freshman orientation was a bit...much. And not in a good way. I expected, well I am not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t to be surrounded by half-dressed girls and barely educated jocks. I decided not to pass judgment yet, because they could all turn out to be decent people, I hope. I kept my head down, took notes, and prayed for it to be over as soon as possible. It was. I made it through it unscathed and that made me feel like I had accomplished something.
The realization of what I was doing had given me pause. When did I become this person? A person that felt it was OK, not having to interact with people as an accomplishment. Is this who I am now? I felt the tears starting to form behind my eyes and I blinked real fast to hold them off. I told myself I wouldn’t do that no matter what. I had promised Macy, I wouldn’t drop one tear the two months she was at home, and I am going to hold my promise.
I finally made it to the dorm and found my room. Walking in, I felt something I don’t ever remember feeling. Safe.
It took me 20 minutes to put away what little I had brought with me. After that, I just sort of sat there wondering what next. Since it was Friday, I had the whole weekend to explore the campus and get to know my surroundings. What I want to do first is to time the walk to all of my classes and then just be. But, the more I thought about doing that, the more depressed I felt. Is this what my life is going to be? A boring humdrum existence? With that thought, I decided to venture outside the room and see what the festivities look like.
When I walked outside of the dorm, immediately I am handed a flier about a party at some frat house. My initial instinct was ‘Absolutely not. Are you crazy Lydia? You have seen Carrie about a hundred times. It never ends well for girls like you’, but I immediately brushed that off because I want to be different here. And again, surely the people here are going to be different.
Macy. I needed to talk to Macy. I walked back into my room, picked up the dorm room phone, and used my long-distance calling card that came with my scholarship to call her.
“Hello.”
“Hey Mace. How's it going?”
“You know. The same as always. Mom is on me about my weight. Dad is oblivious and Trent, well is Trent. What about you? Did you get settled in?”
“Yea. You know I had nothing to settle, so. I miss you already and wish you were here. Tell me these two months are going to go by fast.” I should have known something was up when she hesitated. Macy had always been my biggest support. She never hesitated to reassure me or give me words of wisdom. But, I guess this phone call I was too overwhelmed by everything to notice something was wrong with my friend.
Finally, after a few seconds she said, “Yea sure. It is going to go by fast. You’ll see.”
“I hope so. Ok, I have a question. I got handed a flier to go to a party at a frat house. I know I shouldn’t go….”
