So after my fourth grade year and finding out I was different, I went on to fifth grade. This year, I had two teachers. One I had for the first quarter of the school year. I got switched from Mrs. C's to Mrs. D's because Mrs. D was a new teacher she had a class room, only no students. So they took 5 students from each class and we went to her class.
On the first day of school, in the second quarter, I felt okay. We wore uniforms but it was only khaki bottoms and a red collared shirt. For the bottoms, you could wear a skirt, pants, skinny jeans, capris or shorts. As for the shirts, you had to wear a red collared shirt. On the first day, I wore some skinny jeans and my red shirt with some black, gold and red Nike's.
The first day, I knew things would be different.
I had a new group of friends who were my size, we were all unique but none of us were thin. Some were taller than the others but no one was classified by society as thin. We got along awesome and today, I still have two of those girls as friends.
This year was where I realized that cutting was not the answer.
I realized that I am perfect with every single one of my flaws.
I learned to love myself.
My friends during fifth grade were... perfect. They were caring. They helped me to begin or to learn to love myself by accepting me with all of my flaws. They didn't judge me because even as 11 year olds we had all gone through so much of the criticism that our families and society gave us.
My family in particular would tell me I was a mistake.
I would fail in life.
I would not find anyone to accept me for me.
This is the year where I blamed myself for my dad abandoning our family. I stayed up all night and just thought. I would think back to all of the happy pictures my mom, dad and brother had but when I came into the world, they looked tired and sad. Then I realized that, it was my fault that my dad left. My fault that my brother didn't get to live the "perfect" life style that he always wanted.
For my brother, the "perfect" family consisted of him, my mom and my dad. My mom would stay home all day, and clean. Once classes for my brother let out, she would pick him up. They would have a snack. My mom would help him on his homework. My dad would get home. My mom would serve dinner and both of the parents would tuck my brother into bed. But then I came along.
My brother and my mom never let me forget that it was my fault that my dad left.
During this year is where I actually told someone about it. Her name is Leo. I told her that I cut and she never thought the same about me. The week after I told her, she would just treat me differently. She wouldn't say anything that would hurt my feelings, she would be careful on how she would phrase things. She would watch her choice of wording as if one word she said would kill me.
She didn't tell anyone but she distanced herself from me. When I asked her about it she said:
"I feel sorry for you because you harm yourself."
If there was one thing I hated at the age of 11, it was people feeling sorry for me. Since my dad left when I was 6, the entire school staff treated me differently. Royal treatment. They would give me gift baskets and buy me clothes and shoes. They would treat me like a baby. After that year, I wouldn't accept anything from them because I knew I didn't need it. Petty made me feel, worthless. As if I couldn't do anything for myself. So from then on, if someone felt sorry for me, that someone would no longer be apart of my life. I would shut them out completely.
Fifth grade year was an emotional roller coaster. From happy to sad. But this year is something I'm proud of. I didn't cut for 1 full year. I felt clean and fresh and as if nothing in the world could bring me down. My moms hurtful words didn't hurt me. My brother didn't talk to me. At the time, I didn't care if he did or didn't because he was in 9th grade so we didn't have much in common and most of our innocent conversations, would end up in arguments he would win because of being a favorite.
This year was the year in which I learned that one day, someone, would love me for me. My friends taught me that. They didn't judge me or tell me I couldn't make it. I was actually excited to go to school every morning to see my friends because they were my family. They were my shoulder to cry on. They were the people I would run to when I needed help or I felt the urge to cut. They were the reason for me to be happy and glad to wake up. I love them more than I love myself, now. Fifth grade was perfect and for one solid year, I was clean. I could breathe like a normal person should be aloud. I could wake up every morning and love myself. I could be my crazy, out going, funny, stupid self in front of these people and they would not judge me.
Fifth grade was amazing and my friends were the one and only excuse I had to live for.
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A/N: Heey guys<3
I got only 4 reads on the other chapter.
This is my real life story on how I started cutting and none of this is made up. All true.
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