The beginning

I struggled a lot as a child to have friends, to keep friends. I remember being friends with 2 girls in first grade but then the following years we would be in different classrooms with different teachers. They moved on and made other friends and forgot all about me. This absolutely terrified me. I hated being alone. All I wanted was 1 friend to stand by me. I just wanted to be liked. Maybe I tried to hard? Was I not nice enough? I’ll never know. By the time I was in 5th grade I had no one to call my best friend. I played alone a lot. I longed for that companionship, especially when I hit the ugly duckling stage and the bullying started. I had a lot of problems with my teeth and had to get a lot of my baby teeth pulled because they just wouldn’t get loose or fall out. I was without one of my front teeth for a year in 5th grade and it was a god damn nightmare. The kids were relentless. I also had to have surgery to expose one of my k-9’s because it just wouldn’t come down. I always hoped things would get better after I got all of my permanent teeth but of course they grew in crooked and I would eventually need braces which I didn’t get until I was 15 for some reason. I always hoped I would grow out of this ugly stage as well but that didn’t happen for a long long time and the next few years would be torturous for me and I would still be alone. Eighth grade proved to be the worst year yet. I never thought I would want to die that young. I never thought I would try to kill myself that young. Kids can be cruel. I’ll share one story before I close this. It was math class and I was scared to death of my teacher. She was mean and loud and made me feel worse about myself than I already did. She called me to the chalk board to do a math problem. I almost shit my pants. I hated any attention drawn to myself. I walked up to the chalk board with a few other kids and did the problem. You had to write your name at the bottom of the problem. My name is Trish. I’ll never ever forget what this asshole said. “Trash!!! Hahaha she wrote Trash as her name!!! Hahahaha Traaaaaash Traaaaash!” he taunted. Everyone laughed. The teacher did NOTHING. My name was Trash for the rest of 8th grade and even continued into high school from a select few assholes. Some time that year I remember coming home crying. My Ma never did anything to help me. She made me feel like I was overreacting and would tell me things that would never help like: “Come on be strong! Buck up! Fight back with your words!!” I was a shy and timid little girl who was afraid of everything and everyone, how could I buck up and fight back, with words, when I would become scared and panicked when I was picked on? My mind always went blank and of course I would think of things to say well after the fact .

I was on antidepressants at the time and I swallowed the whole bottle hoping I would die. After a little while I started getting scared. I was raised to believe if you commit suicide that you’ll go to hell. I didn’t want to go to hell. I couldn’t imagine living an eternity of a misery worse than my life so I made myself throw up in the bathroom and just basically laid around crying and asking God to forgive me. Obviously I didn’t die and I really don’t know if I would have or not.