Gotta Be Tough

The last time I posted on this site, I left off at 8. I am 17 years old so I still have a lot to say. I'm not on here too complain or make people feel sorry for me. It says it's a place for people to talk and that's all I want, just to talk and get things off my chest. Anyway, continuing on after the 3rd grade my life was pretty normal and I was happy. I was known as the tomboy and had a lot of friends, mostly guys, but thats how I liked it. Girls didn't like me and I didn't like them, it all worked out. I had some friends move and made some new ones. I was a normal kid. The only thing that made me different other than being one of the guys, was that I had ADHD. No, I'm not trying to say that this is a terrible disease and it's made my life harder, just a part of my life I think I should share. I had to take medication since I was 6 and stopped taking it in middle school when I turned 12. It made me not eat and by age 11, grade 6, I weighed 65 pounds, border line under-weight. I didn't mind though. I mean I was healthy, I was sick, and I didn't suffer from any of the symptoms of malnutrition. My mom was happy for me because she knew that with this medicine I would never get fat and worry about my body through adolescence. I was teased a little bit by this guy in my neighborhood named Bryan (not real name) for being so skinny. He would call me names, pick on me, and yes even hit me. From the ages of 11 to 14, Bryan would hit me almost everyday, whether it be slapping, kicking, punching, or throwing things at me. At 11 I didn't understand what was going on and I though it was normal because my new best friend Rick (not real name) didn't seem to mind. At age 12 I was off the medicine and eating normal and becoming a normal weight, even though my mom didn't think I had to gain weight. When I was 12 I had my first kiss with this guy named Sam (not really name). He was m first crush and I really liked him a lot. There were 2 big factors though. One was that he was Bryan's brother, and he was still hitting me. Two, he didn't want to tell anyone about us dating even though we both liked each other. But I wanted to feel wanted because I had friends, and technically a boyfriend, who would just stand there and watch me get hit and not even say stop. If I cried Bryan would laugh and sometimes hit harder. I didn't want them to think I was weak so I made sure not to cry or show them how much pain I was in. I wouldn't show them, but in private I had my own means of coping. Ever since I was little I have always looked up to my older brother. I would watch him play sports and I would admire how tough he was. I wanted to be like him so bad, I wanted to be tough. So while I got hit, and while I was never able to show in public how much I cared for Sam, I would not cry. I never showed pain, tears, or even hate. I became a cutter. I felt so good doing it, I was getting beat yet it wasn't enough for me. My razor to my arms and writs was the only thing I had control over. I was gaining weight and I wasn't used to it because of how skinny I used to be, I had an amazing boyfriend that no body cold know about, and the brother of my boyfriend who every time he saw me for some reason felt the need to hit me. But I was strong, I didn't let it affect me. I had to be tough, tears weren't a sign of strength, but a sign of weakness. As the bruises formed and the blood ran down my arm, no tears ran down my face. Every day I got up I just told myself the same thing. Don't cry Dani, don't get upset Dani, just be tough, you gotta be tough....even if it kills you (TBC) daniforest@ymail.com