The Roles I Play - Part 6. "I'm OK"

This post contains massive amounts of potential triggers.

Trigger warnings apply for
- Attempted suicide
- Abuse, both mental and physical
- Mental illness
- Bullying
- Self-harm

If you or anyone you know need help, reach out to the hotlines in your area. They're always there to help and guide you. If you can't find the number for your local hotlines, drop me a message with your location (totally anonymous) and I will send you the information you need.


Part 6. "I'm OK"

Until three years ago, every time someone asked me how I was feeling, I would answer "I'm OK". It was just easier to claim that I was doing fine instead of explaining why I felt like someone had taken a steam roller to my mind and used my chest as maracas. I would smile, and I would say "I'm good. How are you?"

I wasn't fine or OK, though. It took me 16 years to get where I am today, from not caring enough about anything to even bother if I lived or died, to loving being alive and loving life with an intensity I didn't think myself capable of. It has been a hard journey and at times, I just wanted to give up.

My personal hell began in the second term of my first year in Elementary school. I can't remember much of the years in Elementary and Middle school, other than an emptiness that constantly squeezed my heart and a fog of hurt across my vision. I remember instances of physical abuse, of name calling, and humiliation, but very little of the actual classes.

And when people asked how I was doing, I would say "I'm good. How are you?" and I would smile. I learned early on how to smile with me eyes, so people would believe that I was fine.

The bullying ended when I was in the second term of my fifth year. Instead of days of hurt and humiliation, there was nothing. No one talked to me, no one touched me. No one even recognized my presence in a room. And I was relieved.

Everything changed when I started Junior High School. Suddenly, people in my class wanted to be my friends. Instead of hurtful words, I got compliments and kind greetings. I just didn't understand it. I started equating my sudden popularity with my school performance and I became an over-achiever. My family moved to a new house, I moved to a new school again, and my hard work continued.

Slowly, I started noticing the world around me, and I hated every second of it. I wanted nothing to do with it. I became suicidal and every night, I would wish I would die in my sleep.

And when people asked how I was doing, I would say "I'm good. How are you?" and I would smile.

I was 13 years old when I tried to kill myself.

I had stolen some of my mom's sleeping pills. I swallowed a handful of them and lay down on my bed, waiting to fall asleep. I still don't know what compelled me to get up when mom called that dinner was ready, but I did. I went to the bathroom, threw up, and went to eat. My legs were shaking and I was more tired than I had been before or since. At dinner that evening, I decided that I wanted to live. That I would fight with everything I had left to stay alive. I stayed awake for most of the following night, determined to not fall asleep, in case the pills I had taken would drag me down.
That's when my fight to get better began.

Instead of keeping the hurt inside, I turned it on my own body. When the pain I got from practicing a martial art wasn't enough, I took sharp objects and scratched and cut my own skin.

And when people asked how I was doing, I would say "I'm good. How are you?" and I would smile.

I met my first boyfriend when I was 16. He turned out to be an abusive asshole, and I was lucky to get out after only 9 months. Second boyfriend was more mentally abusive in the sense that he was hopeless to get hold of and never really cared. I'm not sure if number three even counts, because we dated for 2 weeks. It was more of a second-date-strike-out thing.

Number four was Boy. He's my support, my lover, and the love of my life. He has helped me more than years of therapy has ever done. And all he did was to tell me "I will support you, no matter what. You do the work and I will support you."

Now, when I get asked how I am doing or what's up, I am totally honest. I might not tell you "I feel like shit today" but I will say something like "It's cold" or "I am very busy". I will still smile, but only if I feel like it. I will not hide who I am to please anyone.
The hurt is gone, a memory of who I was. The scars are still there, but they're not a shameful secret anymore. They show me that I have endured a past of hurt and I am still standing.

This is the last scar I will ever cause myself. (No, I don't count tattoos to scars. Tattoos only scar if you mistreat them when they heal).

    A semi-colon indicates a sentence that could have ended, 

but that the writer chose to continue, often adding more information.

Whoever you are, wherever you are, lift your head, stand proudly, and refuse to hide. It is hard, very very hard, but the rewards when you succeed are beyond profound.

Don't Forget To Be Awesome