Bent, Not Broken: My Scoliosis Story (among other things)

Small Town Winter

    You've gotta love Wisconsin winters, right? Frigid cold, dreary, and absolutely endless. Our entire small town treks out in our hillbilly trucks to the only ski hill around and watches our teenage boys fall on their faces. Ah, the joys of being a teenager. The worst, however, is that in winter everyone seems to want to stay indoors gossiping until the sun comes out, which is perfectly understandable- until it's about you. Regardless of the season, one thing holds true- girls will go head over heels for a guy, start catfights, and cry. And let's just say I don't have the best track record with guys.
    First there was Conner, who was nice enough, I guess. We had been friends forever and got along great. It went on for quite a while before the Populars decided they didn't like it and sent him hate until we broke it off. Not surprisingly, we don't talk too much anymore. Next was Alex. Little did I know at the time, he was with about 10 girls from different schools... classy. How he had the time, I'll never understand. (Author's note: as of right now, he's on his 17 1/2th girl from OUR school alone, making out in the hallways between classes. Ew.) And finally there was Damien- there I was just ASKING for trouble.
    See, I was diagnosed just before I met him, and I was pretty shaken up. I ad been talking to this guy for weeks, and as a breakneck move (probably from stress) I asked him out. And let me tell you, it was amazing. I wasn't entirely aware that I could care about someone the way I cared about Damien, and found it completely inconceivable that he could care about me. I fell hard for him, fast. He was sweet and thoughtful, always making sure I was ok after a rough day or holding me close when he knew I was stressed out. I remember walking in the rain with him, sitting on the bleachers at football games, and hiking a local trail.
    Well, have you ever heard the phrase "girls marry their fathers"? Well, I can't say anything about that, but he sure reminded me of my dad after a time- but this time, I was unprepared. I had let him in. He wasn't like my dad in a sense that he screamed, but they both had the same impact: I was left, crying and confused, totally alone. He would tell me how beautiful I was, how he'd never leave. He'd speak of how much he thought of me, everything a girl wants to hear. And suddenly, he'd be angry. He would insult me and tell me he wished I was more like other girls. He would make fun of the way I walked (thanks, femoral anteversion), getting other people to harass me about things that were completely out of my control. So what did I do? I stayed. He would apologize, telling me it was a mistake, that he had had a bad day, that he was so, so sorry.

And I believed him.

    Time after time he left me there, sobbing, and I took his words to heart. Time after time he would apologize, and time after time, I forgave him. When he was angry, he would tell me that I was mutated and ugly, that nobody else would take a girl like me. He said if I did something wrong, he'd tell everyone, and that people would hate me.

And I believed him.

    It went on for months, and I just stood by and let it happen. Until one day, I didn't. I can't explain to you what went through my mind that day, that week, in preparation for this, for two words. I cried and laughed and told myself I didn't need him, then scolded myself, reminding myself that I did. I went around in circles. He had me wrapped around his finger, because through all that taunting, all that pain, I cared about him. I thought he loved me. Worse, I thought I deserved it. Until one day, I just told him, tears in my eyes, "I'm done." and that was that. I blocked his number and said no more, relief and anger and pity and regret and grief all hitting me at the same time.
    But it didn't stop. He followed me around in the hallways, mocking the slightly crooked way I walked and trying to trip me. He pointed and stared and laughed and messaged and ridiculed me for weeks. Every day, I thought it would stop. And each day, he would return with a new way to hurt me. I told my friends not to tell anyone, still remembering his threat: if I made one wrong move, everyone would hate me. I thought the hurt was over when I ended it. I was wrong.
    Soon, however, I slowly slipped away. Stopped responding, inside and out. I was too tired to take it. Months faded, and slowly, so did he. I went on with my life, and he with his, though I can't say I don't still flinch when he catches my eye, his gaze cold, as if challenging me to speak. I don't. For a long time afterwards, I wouldn't even consider looking at anyone like I looked at him. Caring hurt, I thought, ad he had said that nobody but him would care about me.

And I believed him.

    I swore not to let anyone besides my closest friend know what was really going on when I missed school for the doctor's. I swore never to let anyone come so close, to let them in. And I didn't. I distanced myself for many months, content (or as close as I could be) in my own small group of friends. And then I found myself slipping...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hey guys! I don't want to keep you here too long, so I'm going to leave it at this: throughout this book, I make some VERY stupid decisions, and I do not suggest following my lead. Please, take care of yourself first. And as for slipping... I don't know guys. I'm still in a stage where I know what he said isn't true, but I'm a bit afraid that people won't see me the same... But I haven't been very good lately at keeping just EVERYBODY out ;). Comment whether the next chapter should pick up with my dad or where this chapter left off... Much love,
-E