I've been reading a page on facebook called 'Teen beauty competition' and the sheer number of trolls plus the nature of some the people who are posting pictures in the first place makes for a toxic mixture; I have never been so glad I am not a teenager,
Back in the old days, a long long time before self harm was a thing, before mobiles and the internet were even imagined, being bullied meant being smacked or kicked in and outside school, being insulted or accused of looking at someone (or someone's boyfriend). You learned how to be invisible, where to hide in lunch break, and who to trust. The scratches and scars you explained as playful cats or enthusiastic gardening, (love bites were burns off the hair tongs, but I digress) not quite understanding yourself why the sight and feel of your own blood was so soothing. As you got older, the self inflicted cuts became more serious, but never to be mistaken as either hesitation marks or genuine attempts. They were always on the balls of fingers and thumbs, satisfying slices of beauty and stillness in the rage and pain. So focussing and personal, you couldn't begin to explain to anyone why or how; they just were what they were. The other abuse (drugs/alcohol) came much later, so this was a very innocent and clean phase. Meanwhile, you endured the name calling, the odd slap, the boys who assaulted or abused you and swore you to keep quiet. The ones who waited for you and physically overpowered you so that you learned to just keep still and mentally be somewhere else, the ones who pretended to like you so you trusted them, the ones who mocked you publicly while kissing you in private.. the girls who left you unable to make or trust female friends until your late twenties.
But then the intentions did get darker, and you thought, not about dying, but about going away, or going to sleep until it was 'better'. Coming back when it was nice and calm and not so noisy in your head, when the world wasn't quite so sharp and awkward and unpleasant to be in. Had a few narrow escapes and feeble attempts at finding that peace, but somehow managed to survive or just scrape by. Just stayed busy getting through the traps, really.
Years go by and the attempts lessen and your life smooths out a bit, and gets interesting, then you realise, if you had gone through with any of those previous dumbass selfish acts, you would not now be a mother, a wife, a person who could maybe help someone else in pain. It doesn't get much easier, in so many ways; but if I could tell those naive anorexics and fucked up teens on that page anything, it would be that no person is worth killing yourself over. Nobody deserves the compliment of being responsible for your life. The trolls might harshly say it's Darwinism, but they have a point. Put down the camera, step away from the keyboard, go outside and talk to each other. Stop judging 'swag' and trying to live up to some Bratz doll version of how you should look, stop believing the lollipop headed Hollyweird tanorexic airbrushed liposucked freaks actually exist. Get a hobby or something you can be passionate about, stop thinking you have to be in a reality show, and most of all stop believing you are special. You are no more special than any other person in this stupid fucked up world; if you want to be special, do something extraordinary for the World. Don't give the trolls the oxygen of attention, just move along. There is nothing to see here.
Back in the old days, a long long time before self harm was a thing, before mobiles and the internet were even imagined, being bullied meant being smacked or kicked in and outside school, being insulted or accused of looking at someone (or someone's boyfriend). You learned how to be invisible, where to hide in lunch break, and who to trust. The scratches and scars you explained as playful cats or enthusiastic gardening, (love bites were burns off the hair tongs, but I digress) not quite understanding yourself why the sight and feel of your own blood was so soothing. As you got older, the self inflicted cuts became more serious, but never to be mistaken as either hesitation marks or genuine attempts. They were always on the balls of fingers and thumbs, satisfying slices of beauty and stillness in the rage and pain. So focussing and personal, you couldn't begin to explain to anyone why or how; they just were what they were. The other abuse (drugs/alcohol) came much later, so this was a very innocent and clean phase. Meanwhile, you endured the name calling, the odd slap, the boys who assaulted or abused you and swore you to keep quiet. The ones who waited for you and physically overpowered you so that you learned to just keep still and mentally be somewhere else, the ones who pretended to like you so you trusted them, the ones who mocked you publicly while kissing you in private.. the girls who left you unable to make or trust female friends until your late twenties.
But then the intentions did get darker, and you thought, not about dying, but about going away, or going to sleep until it was 'better'. Coming back when it was nice and calm and not so noisy in your head, when the world wasn't quite so sharp and awkward and unpleasant to be in. Had a few narrow escapes and feeble attempts at finding that peace, but somehow managed to survive or just scrape by. Just stayed busy getting through the traps, really.
Years go by and the attempts lessen and your life smooths out a bit, and gets interesting, then you realise, if you had gone through with any of those previous dumbass selfish acts, you would not now be a mother, a wife, a person who could maybe help someone else in pain. It doesn't get much easier, in so many ways; but if I could tell those naive anorexics and fucked up teens on that page anything, it would be that no person is worth killing yourself over. Nobody deserves the compliment of being responsible for your life. The trolls might harshly say it's Darwinism, but they have a point. Put down the camera, step away from the keyboard, go outside and talk to each other. Stop judging 'swag' and trying to live up to some Bratz doll version of how you should look, stop believing the lollipop headed Hollyweird tanorexic airbrushed liposucked freaks actually exist. Get a hobby or something you can be passionate about, stop thinking you have to be in a reality show, and most of all stop believing you are special. You are no more special than any other person in this stupid fucked up world; if you want to be special, do something extraordinary for the World. Don't give the trolls the oxygen of attention, just move along. There is nothing to see here.
