My name is Jamie. I grew up pretty normally; youngest of three, had both of my parents, lived in a nice town in a big house. I didn't have many friends, but I was okay with that. They were great friends.
I went to school down the street from my house. I wasn't crazy about school, but I knew I had to do it.
I was always super tiny; very skinny and very short. I was much smaller than the rest of the kids in my grade. It never bothered me, until kids started to point it out and make jokes about it. I was in kindergarten and would refuse to go to school because of the jokes; but my mother would make me go to school and would tell me to just ignore them. I would ignore them, but it would still get to me. I became very self conscious. I didn't like to be different. I didn't like to be me.
Fast forward to fourth grade; the teasing got worse. But now they escalated to more than short jokes. I was now receiving death threats. The insults were becoming more complex, more personal, more harmful. I was starting to become more of who I was, and the other kids weren't fans. I would go home crying everyday because of the things said to me. "Freak." "Loser." "Nobody." "You should kill yourself, no one would miss you." I believed every word. I felt so worthless.
I had one friend. His name was Connor. He was my childhood friend. He was the only person that was nice to me; that didn't care how tiny I was or what my style was becoming. He made me feel like it was okay to be the way I was.
The other kids didn't like that.
There was the popular girl; we will just call her M. She was sweet, beautiful, athletic; every boy's dream. Even Connor liked her. One day, Connor found a note in his desk. It said, "I want to have sex with you. Love, M." It clearly was not from M. Her name wasn't even spelt correctly. No one knew who wrote it, but everyone told Connor that I wrote it. He believed them. He began to hate me; and my only friend started to slip through my fingers. He wrote "I hate Jamie" all over his folders and would avoid and ignore me, despite me trying to tell him it wasn't me who made the note. But then he was gone. I had no one. I was all alone.
At the age of 9, I had my first suicide attempt.
I was so broken.
I would pretend to be sick every day to avoid going back to school. I did anything to avoid going back.
The years kept going and the bullying became worse and worse. I would be physically beaten. I was told daily to kill myself. I hated my life.
My home life was getting harder too. My parents were constantly fighting and my father starting to sleep on the couch. He wouldn't talk to anyone. I felt like he hated us; even though I knew deep down he did love us. My sister was constantly arguing with my mother. My parents got divorced a few years later.
I began to become harmful to myself. I didn't know how to release my anger. I started banging my head against my wall in hopes that I would go unconscious. I was constantly fighting with my parents and my sisters. I hated everyone. I just wanted to be alone.
Sixth grade comes along. I was becoming more and more depressed. I was skipping class and going to the nurse's office almost everyday just to avoid the hell.
Towards the end of the year, I finally snapped. One of the kids that was constantly telling me to kill myself was doing his usual spiel when I slammed down on the desk and said "Fine! I will kill myself and everyone will be happy!" and I stormed out of the room crying. I went home that day and convinced my mom to let me miss the rest of year; it was only about a week.
I transferred schools that year in hopes that I could get a fresh start. Oh, how wrong I was.
The bullying seemed to just follow me; regardless of these being new kids. I would stay quiet. I didn't want them to have any ammo against me. But that didn't stop them. I was pushed down and kicked, called names, had food thrown at me, been spit at, pretty much anything you could think of.
I ended up transferring back to my original school for eighth grade.
The first thing that was said to me was, "Oh, I thought you finally killed yourself." That broke me. I was gone for a whole year, yet I was still their target. I would be continued to be bullied through the year. I would be kicked down and have books dropped on me. I had scissors and pens thrown at me. I was locked in my locker more times than I can count on my hands.
I only had a handful of friends, but I wouldn't have traded them for the world. They were always there for me in my darkest times.
High school rolls around. We were a sending district, so there were a few other schools coming to our high school. I was hoping this was a chance to make some new friends and feel better about myself.
I was partially right. I made some new friends, but also some new enemies. The bullying continued, but now I started to fight back. I had people shout things at me in the hallway. Books would be thrown at my head while I was walking through the hallway. I would be slammed against lockers. Volleyballs spiked into my face constantly. But I would just try to keep my head high and push forward.
During my freshman year, I met a girl who we will refer to as N. She quickly became my best friend. We spent almost everyday together, riding our bikes around and just going on adventures to escape reality. I always felt a little out of the loop though, because she had a boyfriend and he would normally tag along with us. She saw that I was a bit upset by this, so she set me up with a friend of hers. We will call him A. I really liked this guy. I would text him everyday, but he lived a few towns away so I never met him in person.
One night, me and N snuck out of her home in the middle of the night and went to her boyfriend's house. We would meet A there. The night started off wonderfully. I finally felt happy. But things later took a harsh turn for the worse.
He wanted to do things that I was not comfortable with. I told him no, but he wouldn't take that as an answer. He violated me. He made me feel dirty. He broke every ounce of confidence I worked so hard to build up. All while N and her boyfriend just watched from across the room and did nothing about it. I left crying the next morning and never spoke to any of them again. I felt so disgusting.
That night, I had my second suicide attempt.
I wanted that memory erased forever.
I stopped talking to most of my friends. I was too ashamed to tell anyone what had happened that night. I felt like it was all my fault that it had happened. I didn't want people to think I was a slut.
Not too long after, I started dating someone else. We will call him D. D seemed like a super nice guy. He would call me beautiful and tell me how great I was. But that was only for the first month. That's when everything changed.
He began to feed lies into my head. He caused me so much stress and anxiety. He told me I was worthless; that no one would ever love me. He told me I was repulsive and that I was lucky someone like him was with me. He dug a hole for me and pushed me in. I fell so hard I didn't realize I hit the ground. I was in a rut. I was the lowest I had ever been.
He told me to kill myself. I agreed with him that it was a good idea. He had filled my head with such lies that made me feel like nothing.
I ran away from home and tried to kill myself. My parents called the police to look for me. The police found me before I did anything. They talked to me and tried to convince me that it wasn't worth it. I told them I wanted to die. They brought me to the hospital, where I was put on suicide watch.
After about two months, I returned to school. I was still extremely depressed.
The bullying continued. Everyday was a struggle to get out of bed. I was constantly fighting with my few friends because I didn't know how to portray my emotions correctly. I lost everything. I had no one.
My sophomore year, I began to cut.
It became my safe place. I would hide in the bathrooms between classes and cut my wrists. I would go home and cut my hips. I hid them from everyone because I wasn't proud of them.
Later that year, a kid I had class with saw my scars. He didn't say anything to me directly, but he went to the school counselor instead. The next day, I was called down to the counselor. They asked me if I was okay; I just put on a fake smile and said I was fine, even though I clearly was not. She asked to see my arms, and even though I knew that I was covered in cuts, I showed her. She asked me to start coming every day to talk. It started to make me cut less and less having someone to talk to everyday. I could never thank that kid enough for helping me with my recovery. Thank you again Nick. You gave me faith that not everyone is pure trash.
But that wasn't the end of it.
My junior year, I relapsed hard. After many heart breaks and many physical fights, I got worn down. I began to start cutting addictively. I just couldn't help myself.
I started hating myself more and more.
I stopped eating. I would go days with barely any food, if any.
I hated myself so much and wanted to die so badly. I thought I was done. I was so broken down, I thought I could never come out of it. I had completely given up.
But then I met him. Kieran.
He changed my life forever.
He was constantly telling me how great I was, how he was so lucky to have me. He said it for more than a month, too.
He held my hand through some of the hardest times in my life. He would hold me during my panic attacks and tell me that everything was going to be okay, when most people would just walk away. He cares so much and I am so lucky to have met him.
He filled my head with positive thoughts and taught me to love myself. He helped me get clean and beat my anorexia. He was a literal angel.
He encouraged me to pursue my dreams of becoming an internet personality; and while I still have work to do, it is coming true.
He loved me, even when I couldn't love myself.
Six years later, we are now engaged.
While I had a rough time through school and life, it molded me into the person I am today. It gave me a thick skin where I no longer will take crap from people.
I now love myself and refuse to let toxic people in my life and I only allow positive vibes.
Never give up. Times can get hard, and may seem like they aren't going to get better, but I promise you, they will. Something or someone will come around to make every day worth it.
If you hit rock bottom, then all you can do is go up.
I believe in you. You can do it.
Never stop fighting.