I was talking to a girl online that I met through an online game (yes, I am a loser, and I play that crap). She was talking about how much she has been bullied not only in real life, but also online. Apparently, it was some game she was playing, and they began to attack not only her character, but her profile photo. I think that she was pretty, but others were exposing whatever flaws that she might have had...this really kicked me in the gut...bullying is something that resides really close to my heart, and something that I do not have any tolerance to...it was talking to her that really got me to thinking.
Perhaps it is because I was a target for most of my life (hell, in high school, I was invited to not only ONE but TWO "pig parties"), that being bullied affects me more than it should. I was short, covered in blemishes, poor, fizzy haired, never had the right clothes, shy, quiet, spent most of my time with my nose in either a book or comic (yes, to top it all off, I was a comic book/fantasy/sci-fi dork), and just overall plain. It was easy to either just overlook me or make me a target. Apparently, many found the latter to be more amusing...in fact, I remember one year, a friend and I were hit by eggs, all the while being insulted six ways from Friday. While I know that this stuff is supposed give you an iron backbone, damn, that shit really does hurt....and people were really puzzled when I tried to take my life several times by drug overdoses...you can only act so strong when you hurt that much inside. Go ahead and call me a coward (whatever, you do not truly know me)...some people can fight...others have problems...but I eventually plowed on (thanks to the support of small but incredible group of friends...I would not be here if it were not for them...), and continued to throw the attitude out that nothing bothered me (yeah, right)...even though some nights I was not even sure if I was going to even get through it...to me, I felt like I was trapped in some type of dystopian zone where everyone was happy but myself...I felt like it was never going to end (in fact, I still deal with it now sometimes).
I dunno, I guess this just stuff one goes through when they are growing up...part of natural selection and all of that. I know that bullying is something that will never truly go away, in fact it is part of human nature to hurt others, even if we do not even realise. Sadly, I will admit that in the past I have been guilty of hurting others...it is amazing what the idea of "if you cannot beat them, join them" can do in desperate times while trying to fit in...to anything...sometimes you abandon yourself to have a 'friend...or some type of human companionship'.
I was thinking about all of the hate that exists...many people dislike types of harmless people, either sight unseen or based on a poor example (or just...different/misunderstood). I have learned throughout my life is to always go on a case-by-case basis...sure, there are always going to be asshats in every group...but you cannot always judge by that. (now before someone brings up and compares groups like child molesters to GLBT groups, DON'T. I am not talking about people that are going to harm others....in fact that is one of the points of this post anyway...I am talking about people protesting and openly speaking negatively about groups that are not harming others...but simply because they are different (and even a disagreement from a 'moral' stand point cannot even be a good enough platform...they just need to look at their own dilemmas before they judge others...NO ONE IS PERFECT).
In any case...I will always continue to stick up for others that are less than perfect or different...or just whatever...I have reached the age where I do not care what people say about me...I am a big girl, but I will always give a voice to those that might not be loud enough to be heard.
(please excuse the poor grammar/writing and such...I have a massive migraine, but I really needed to get this out today after the conversation with this one girl (to whom I wish all the best to))...but again, this does not even begin to fully convey what I want to express, so before you begin attack on half addressed opinions, please, just chill out...I just am tired of hate, ignorance, and people hurting other because of their own lack of self-esteem or an over righteous belief, that's all...all religions promote unconditional love at some point....remember that.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Friday, July 13, 2012
Push Pt. 1
You know how cliche it has become to talk about the obvious in this world....and even more cliche it has become to talk about how cliche it has become....then you reach the point that people just do not care anymore. There is some crazy stuff that goes through my head on a daily basis that I keep to myself, because I just figure that no one will really care about what is really in MY head...or that someone, somewhere else has already proclaimed it.
In the early morning hours of Thursday, July 5, 2012, my husband took me restless and thrashing into the Kennestone Hospital ER. I had been vomiting and seizing for hours, until he finally picked me up, and took me in (resisting the entire time). I was having seizure after seizure, as well as having no idea who I was or what was going on. Ever since I was a small child, I have been extremely accident prone, and by the time I was 10, my parents had an express pass to the ER because of my daredevil antics that led to an insane amount of head injuries. Combined that with... experiences with exes, I have constant migraines and I am prone to seizures. Somehow, this all came to a head on the 4th.
The next thing I remember after entering the ER that morning was waking up, tied to a bed, in a dark room. They had removed my contacts, so I was unable to make out anything...and I had no idea who I was...or anything else for that matter. This guy kept appearing that was telling this stuff that was making no sense to me and all I wanted was for him to just untie me and just go away. As the night wore on, things began to make more sense to me, I realised I was in the hospital...but I thought that only a few hours had passed. Apparently, it was the early morning hours of SATURDAY July 7th...I had been under anesthesia with a tube down my throat for about a day and a half (I kept ripping out IVs and would not keep my arms still for the medication to take effect...even under the influence of other powerful meds), so they had to sedate me. It took me 12 hours to wake up, in which my husband stayed by my side almost the entire time (except when he need to leave to take care of the kids at home), begging me to wake up. Normally, when you are taken off of anesthesia, you begin to wake up rather soon. For me, they were not sure if I was even going to wake up, considering I was not responding to any type of outside stimuli, which concerned the Drs.
In any case, I finally woke up, and after haggling with the nurses and Drs., I finally convinced them I was not crazy and could be taken out of ICU and put into a normal room (okay, so I would like to take SOME credit that I had some kind of control of what was happening to me, instead of conceding completely). They FINALLY released me later that week.
What is the point of this ramble you might ask? This is me starting to deal with it. When I was told that I almost died, and I would have, had Will not taken me in when he did, I just kinda shrugged it off. I figured that, "Hey, I am still here...beside, if you don't ACTUALLY die, then it is no big deal right? No need to make it heavier than it really is." Well, I have discovered that my liver is really messed up (I have an allergy for most painkillers, with the exception of Tylenol, which DOES not work and does wonders for your liver) and I have memory loss, and, of course, my favourite, the continuation of my seizures.
I have the uncanny ability to push people away. Despite what...'impression'...I give out, I am not really a social animal. I 'can' be. But spending much of my childhood/teen years in isolation, with only the company of my books and music allowed me the advantage of my own company. People have been asking me how I am mentally and physically after this event...honestly? Real honest? Or just what I should just say? Are they just being polite? I have mastered the smile and little laugh that says that I am better or getting there slowly, and things are peachy. I do not like to put people out...and I do not like to make it all about me. I do not like to bring a lot of attention on myself...and I MOST of all do not like people to feel sorry for me. There exists only two people that have been able to pry the true out of me, and that is Will and Daisy (you know who you are Miss Lovejoy).
Sometimes, it is just easier for me to keep to myself...especially when I go through something like this. When I finally signed onto Facebook in the hospital, I was shocked to see the amount of messages I had that were asking where I was and if I or the family were okay. It really sucks when you realise that you are only pushing people away (even Will) that really care about you...even when you have never met them (i.e. Facebook).
Right now, I am going to end this, and write the second blabbering piece to this...whatever this is...tomorrow. Have a good night, ya'll!
In the early morning hours of Thursday, July 5, 2012, my husband took me restless and thrashing into the Kennestone Hospital ER. I had been vomiting and seizing for hours, until he finally picked me up, and took me in (resisting the entire time). I was having seizure after seizure, as well as having no idea who I was or what was going on. Ever since I was a small child, I have been extremely accident prone, and by the time I was 10, my parents had an express pass to the ER because of my daredevil antics that led to an insane amount of head injuries. Combined that with... experiences with exes, I have constant migraines and I am prone to seizures. Somehow, this all came to a head on the 4th.
The next thing I remember after entering the ER that morning was waking up, tied to a bed, in a dark room. They had removed my contacts, so I was unable to make out anything...and I had no idea who I was...or anything else for that matter. This guy kept appearing that was telling this stuff that was making no sense to me and all I wanted was for him to just untie me and just go away. As the night wore on, things began to make more sense to me, I realised I was in the hospital...but I thought that only a few hours had passed. Apparently, it was the early morning hours of SATURDAY July 7th...I had been under anesthesia with a tube down my throat for about a day and a half (I kept ripping out IVs and would not keep my arms still for the medication to take effect...even under the influence of other powerful meds), so they had to sedate me. It took me 12 hours to wake up, in which my husband stayed by my side almost the entire time (except when he need to leave to take care of the kids at home), begging me to wake up. Normally, when you are taken off of anesthesia, you begin to wake up rather soon. For me, they were not sure if I was even going to wake up, considering I was not responding to any type of outside stimuli, which concerned the Drs.
In any case, I finally woke up, and after haggling with the nurses and Drs., I finally convinced them I was not crazy and could be taken out of ICU and put into a normal room (okay, so I would like to take SOME credit that I had some kind of control of what was happening to me, instead of conceding completely). They FINALLY released me later that week.
What is the point of this ramble you might ask? This is me starting to deal with it. When I was told that I almost died, and I would have, had Will not taken me in when he did, I just kinda shrugged it off. I figured that, "Hey, I am still here...beside, if you don't ACTUALLY die, then it is no big deal right? No need to make it heavier than it really is." Well, I have discovered that my liver is really messed up (I have an allergy for most painkillers, with the exception of Tylenol, which DOES not work and does wonders for your liver) and I have memory loss, and, of course, my favourite, the continuation of my seizures.
I have the uncanny ability to push people away. Despite what...'impression'...I give out, I am not really a social animal. I 'can' be. But spending much of my childhood/teen years in isolation, with only the company of my books and music allowed me the advantage of my own company. People have been asking me how I am mentally and physically after this event...honestly? Real honest? Or just what I should just say? Are they just being polite? I have mastered the smile and little laugh that says that I am better or getting there slowly, and things are peachy. I do not like to put people out...and I do not like to make it all about me. I do not like to bring a lot of attention on myself...and I MOST of all do not like people to feel sorry for me. There exists only two people that have been able to pry the true out of me, and that is Will and Daisy (you know who you are Miss Lovejoy).
Sometimes, it is just easier for me to keep to myself...especially when I go through something like this. When I finally signed onto Facebook in the hospital, I was shocked to see the amount of messages I had that were asking where I was and if I or the family were okay. It really sucks when you realise that you are only pushing people away (even Will) that really care about you...even when you have never met them (i.e. Facebook).
Right now, I am going to end this, and write the second blabbering piece to this...whatever this is...tomorrow. Have a good night, ya'll!
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