Quote from: Laura Squirrel on January 11, 2015, 04:17:29 PM
No. I became angry because: 1. I was going through a puberty that I didn't want. 2. I hated myself for being in this body and 3. I was sick of constantly being called a "->-bleeped-<-", ridiculed and beaten up by my peers because they all thought that I was gay.
The only thing that made me happy was the fact that I could go home and be alone with my music. No. I don't want you ask me how my day went. It was hell just like every other weekday. Then, I had to put up with my stupid drunk of a father that would gripe about the music. (But only when he was drunk. When he was sober, he didn't care.)
Music was pretty much the only thing that kept me sane. That was until I reached the age of 15 and the suicidal thoughts came back again, (age 10 was the first time) But, then at 15, I started to get into drugs to help chase off the suicidal thoughts.
Damn, this is all too familiar.....
Like, I'm sure, most of us here, puberty and watching yr body turn into something that you never wanted to be and never identified with was a horribly traumatic experience. Most of my friends were so excited when they started to sprout facial hair..... I didn't realise it at the time but I suffered from a dysphoric attack and grabbed my Dad's razors and tried to get rid of it as soon as it started becoming evident. Cut myself up as I didn't really know what the heck I was doing!
I was fortunate enough to avoid beatings for the most part, but that had more to do w/ the fact that I was a decently fast sprinter (thanks Dad) and I learned early that they get worried
about getting too close to you if you act completely crazy. They would still pick on me mercilessly, but a few fairly over the top displays at least made them think twice about touching me! lol
And yeah, I too spent most of high school as a self-loathing shut in, so most of those bands that I mentioned listening to in the other thread had a lot to do w/ helping me survive that period.
My father wouldn't gripe about the music so much because he wasn't around too much, but when he was he seemed to think that bullying me was a great idea and might "toughen me up".... Well, it actually caused our relationship to degenerate into a latent hostility that threatened to boil over whenever we were together.
I feel fortunate that we were able to build somewhat of a positive relationship as adults before he died last year. He was the kind of guy who didn't apologise to anyone for anything, but I could tell he was sorry for being such an ass to me while I was growing up.
My first suicidal thoughts came when I was 8, shortly after I had that first moment of "ummm.... Y'know, I was born in the wrong body"..... I won't go into it on this thread as I'm already way off topic, but uhhh.... Yeah..... Good times!
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But back on topic, I must echo the observations people have made about seeing the sadness in themselves in old photos. My eyes almost never smile in those old photos. I never wanted to be photographed because I didn't want to be seen. I didn't want to be that "thing" I saw in those photos or in the mirror.
It contrasts so starkly with recent photos of me. I've been so much happier since accepting myself for who I am and doing something about it. My eyes are the dead giveaway. My smiles are genuine these days!