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Wednesday, July 2, 2008

Teen Samantha

I spent my seventh grade year trying to figure out what the heck had happened to me. I developed anorexia and began self-harm habits. School was a nightmare. I seemed to have nothing in common with my former friends. I was frightened out of my mind of all boys and most men. I was confused about the heterosexual impulses of my classmates. I spent much of the year at home, in bed, too ill to do more than read.

During the summer I worked on the jobs assigned to me, then fled to the mountains to find peace. My mother harped constantly on me about my weight (which fluctuated between 75 and 80 pounds). My body was continuing to develop--there seemed to be nothing I could do to stop it--but as it developed, the verbal and emotional abuse from my mother escalated.

During the first week of my eighth grade year, a group of seven young women befriended me. I'm not sure why they found me, but they became my salvation. They invited me to their homes, kept me company at lunch, and never allowed me to be alone. They encouraged me to eat, to talk, to laugh. The year passed pleasantly. For the first time I began to feel that I would recover.

My Freshman year of high school I discovered that joining competitive teams and music groups caused me to have to stay after school for practices. The bus which brought me home arrived around 7:30 p.m., which meant I left for school at 6:45 a.m. and only encountered my mother for a couple of hours at night. Competing also meant I was gone most weekends--another huge perk.

Simultaneously, I encountered the lesbian culture and was certain that I had come home. For whatever reason, I'd been given a brief reprieve from my mother's abuse. She had momentarily lost interest in me. I was able to come and go as I pleased which allowed me to investigate what a teen romance lesbian style meant.

In all of this, I had suddenly become deeply angry. I was angry that God had not saved me somehow. I was angry that my mother hurt me. I was angry that my father didn't care that I was abused (although, I know he did care, he just didn't know). I was determined to leave every part of my religion behind (because I could see no benefit in it for me). I began investigating every religion I could find on earth including atheism, paganism, and satanism. I looked into Eastern religions. I read everything I could find.

I began seeking out young men who seemed interested in me. My sole purpose in finding these young men was to hurt back in some way. I held them and all men responsible for the pain in my life. I entered emotional relationships with boys, waited for them to become attached to me, kissed and cuddled, then did whatever I could to hurt them. There was a dreadful satisfaction in watching their confusion and pain.

My mother had sought help for her depression and abusive behaviors during this time. She tried to make amends with me. I am told that she took my sisters and I to lunch often. I know she gave me gifts. I'm told that I was uncommunicative and sullen when we went out with our mother. I have no memory of this. I've tried to remember. My brain is not cooperating.

During my Junior year of high school I determined that I could only be happy if I left my home. I began to take steps to ascertain fiscal independence. I worked whenever I could and saved money like crazy. I knew my grades and test scores would procure me a scholarship at the college of my choice. I continued these preparations until the day I graduated. One week after graduation I presented my Senior recital. The following week I arrived at my summer job, 100 miles from my home.

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