Dealing with Social Anxiety Disorder.

Pure hate.

There's this disorder called social anxiety disorder, ever heard of it? It's not fun. And some people, me for an example, got it from beeing bullied for 7 years. I couldn't talk to anyone, because I knew that they wouldn't want to hear about my problems, I felt like I would waste their time and create a bad memory, and I'm pretty sure my friends already knew how I felt because they saw me brake down so many times, they saw me blacking out, throwing punches, throwing chairs, hitting people, but didn't help me at all, and I couldn't ask for help. It's not that easy, it's not, not for me. I still feel like people don't want to be with me, like why should they? They’d think I’m boring or I’d have the wrong opinion about something and they’ll hate me, or that I’m making a fool out of myself and they’ll be embarassed. I’m not good enough, so why would they want to be with me? It's not a nice feeling.

I've been told through these 7 years that I'm ugly, fat, worthless, looks like a boy, am a racist (I’m not!), stupid, retarded and weird on a daily basis, so ofcourse I started to think it about myself pretty instant.One of them even sexually herassed me, tried to force me to have sex with him. They hurt me physically, they threw me into lockers, windows and walls, pulled my pants down when I was on crutches because of a broken foot, threw my keys out the window and then some of them became friends with my brother who started to make fun of me aswell. The few friends I did have, never did anything, I thought they'd see how bad I felt, and how I wanted to kill myself everyday, because I skipped half 7th and 8th grade, and that wasn’t because I didn’t enjoy the subjects, it was because I couldn’t walk outside my home without feeling like people stared at me, talked behind my back, laughed at me, made fun of me, judged me, how they wanted to throw stuff at me and basically how they all hated me. I felt like I was a target as soon as I took a step outside. I remember how I cried in the car when my dad was about to drop me off at school, because I knew so well that I was going to be punched or made fun of, so he ended up driving me back home.
My mum still says to me “you weren’t that bullied” and I’m like “maybe not, but do you know what it felt like?” I wanted to kill myself. But I couldn’t because I was too scared. I’ve always been scared of death, so even though everyday I wanted to die, I didn’t want to live, but I couldn’t die. I thought it woudn’t make a difference really.  

I was scared of basically anything for a very long time. I got social anxiety disorder when I was 12 years old, by that time I had been bullied for three years. This is a big factor to why I didn’t get any friends in unior high. I couldn’t talk to anyone, and everyone just kept bullying me, so what was I supposed to do? Once I got forced to go talk to the student councelor, because I raged out and hit a guy in the face because he called me something. I don’t even remember what he said. I remember that in Spanish class he said it, and I was like “one more time and I’ll punch you” and right after class, he said it again, I just couldn’t act like I wasn’t serious, so I punched him. In the face. That’s when I raged and a teacher pushed me down to the councelor, and I had to repeat everything over and over again. It didn’t made me feel better about fixing my problem with the bullies, and also they wanted me to move my locker to another part of the school so that they wouldn’t push me into the walls, windows and lockers by our classrooms, but why was it me hwo had to move? It wasn’t me hwo bullied anyone. I was the one hwo got punched, and picked on everyday, not them, they were the one hwo had fun doing those things to me. Still, it was ME hwo were supposed to move to another part of the building. I remember when the principal brought it up in a meeting we had with my parents, and my dad was fully against it, and mum was like “yeah, maybe it’s for the best”. And I was like “I still have to go the same fucking classes as them, it won’t help at all, and it’s not me hwo’s supposed to move. It’s them.” and dad agreed with me, but mum was like “maybe it’ll help a little?” I didn’t have to switch lockers anyways.