Birth of RAGE

Want to know why I do things to harm myself? I have enormous rage and fear of helplessness. Cruelty in a child's life, without protection or comfort, destroys identity and safety.

When I was 6 years old, my family moved to Spokane, WA. It was 1971. We moved into "Peaceful Valley". It was where my Dad grew up and my Grandparents continued to live. It was mostly run down, tiny houses, and people from every hue of color. That was a time of great conflict and change. Schools and bussing were still segregated, but that was about to change. The kids from Peaceful Valley were bussed to a school where the neighborhood was predominantly white. Everyone knew who we were. I was white, but I was "one of them". The teachers didn't seem to treat us differently but some of the other kids did. The parents got together and figured out that they could get us out of their school and neighborhood by "condemning" the school building. All the kids would be sent to other schools. They would make some cosmetic upgrades and their children could all return to the school, and we would be somewhere else. This happened 3 times. Each time. you are the new kid. They would hear their parents talk about us, and then they would avoid or abuse us.

The other great thing about being a white kid in a colored neighborhood, is that you are different. My Dad has always had a belligerent legal righteousness, with no qualm about calling law enforcement. So this awkward, white, little girl walking to the bus stop became the object of everyone's abuse. We were expected to cram 3 kids in each seat, and sometimes, still had to stand in the isle. I was frequently refused the opportunity to sit in many seats, and always prayed that someone would be kind enough to let me squeeze onto the tiny edge of the seat. Sometimes I was kicked and yelled at, to get out of the seat. On a regular basis, someone would get the entire bus chanting something about me. After a while, we were told we couldn't stand in the isle. When no one let me sit down, I had to sit on the wet and dirty floor. I felt trapped and terrified. It didn't take long before it would make me nauseated and sometimes throw up. That really makes them like you. My Mom would have to pick me up from the school (as I was sick). She was not pleased. I usually felt better as soon as I got home. But when it was time to get onto the bus the next day, I got nauseated. Mom kept me home, and when I felt fine an hour after the bus, she got mad. I was then forced to go and stay at school, regardless of puking. I learned to be very quiet and hide my vomiting after that. I knew it would just make everyone mad and more abuse would come.

Soon the bus stop became an opportunity for the kids to take my books, shove me down, and dent or break my lunch box. When I got home, I knew I would be in trouble, but there was no one I could tell. The teachers told me to tell the bus driver, or that they didn't like "tattle tails". If other kids heard me telling, I was tripped, shoved, or kicked. The only place I felt safe was in front of a teacher, or on the play ground when there was no one there. When I got home, I got a spanking for the damaged or missing books and clothes. My parents wouldn't listen to me. The more I said, the angrier they seemed to get. I had no where safe. I would dream of someone that would take me away from all of that. Someone who would love me, listen and protect me.

Most of my life, I've felt worthless, unattractive, awkward and depressed. My family was and is a mess. I was never encouraged to work for my dreams. I have been afraid to ask for what I want or need. I was afraid to tell others what I feel, and how they may have hurt me. I am afraid to be vulnerable to anyone. I have always been afraid to ask for help, because it would make me owe them something. I've been divorced twice, engaged 4 times without marriage, and spent 20 years in the navy moving every 2-3 years. My youngest sister has had about 6 jobs in 20 years, married twice, alienated her daughter, and ostracized me and our Dad. My other sister committed suicide after years of drug addictions, following a rape (my father deemed false to his law enforcement friends, thus no charges were filed). My mom died of cancer a few years ago. She and my dad haven't seemed like a loving couple for decades. All of it has been so painful and sad. Severe restriction and abusive exercise were things I had control of. I felt that not eating anything for days, and exercising all night would be a quick way to reach my goal and become "pretty enough".

I still get bus sick, anxiety is nearly constant, noisy environments drive me crazy, and being the center of controversy causes panic attacks. I have been afraid to do so much.Thanks to treatment, I feel anger and rage when others try to make me feel less than, especially in front of others. Sadness and worthlessness are my feelings are how I feel when I'm not heard, or I'm forgotten. I am slowly taking back my voice and my space. I am learning how to take care of myself, one day at a time.