Courtney Cabral
Wesley Mueller
WRT 150
6 December 2017
If I Could Turn Back The Time
In high school everyone always thought that I had it made. I was a starter on the Varsity soccer team, my parents made decent money which allowed us to afford nice things, and I was dating the quarterback that every girl gushed over. What more could I ask for? But behind all that, for years I had been fighting battles within myself that most people didn’t know about and overtime I just became good at hiding them. When I was younger, I always remember loving school. I loved playing review on Thursdays for our spelling bee’s on Friday. I loved hanging out with my friends and being around my family. To this day I still love thinking back to when I was younger and how genuinely happy I was and how I would give anything to give that back. I think that’s something we can all relate too. Life was never hard for me, but when I entered middle school, that’s when it became the start.
Near the end of my 6th grade school year, I was bullied everyday and would often leave school and walk home because the harassment from the upperclassmen and people in my grade became that repetitive. Girls who were a grade ahead of me would stare and then continue to laugh and find reasons to make me feel horrible about myself. My parents always told me that girls are mean to other girls when they are jealous but that was something that I never understood. They might have had things that I didn’t but I never thought to treat them in spite of any hate. I would also get accused of being fat on a daily basis when I was only a 5 foot girl weighing 90 pounds. I never used to see myself as being overweight but after a handful of times of being told there’s a part of you that starts to believe it. It even got to the point where my classmate and someone who had been my best friend since I was in kindergarten, decided to write a note right in front of me in class. Even tho I knew I deep down didn’t want to know what it said, I still walked over to the trash can after class and picked up the piece of paper which had my name in big letters in the middle of it and every horrible name you could call someone written in writing all around it. I always wondered what I did to deserve what I had done to me and I think that's still what bothers me to this day. I was never mean to others and even at times I would go out of my way to be nice to others even when they weren’t nice to me. I always loved school when I was younger and I loved to learn but it finally got to the point where I refused to go to school. You always hear about schools stressing the importance of protecting students but I felt as if that was the last thing they did for me. There were so many times that I would bring the evidence of the bullying to the office in hope for some kind of help but I never received any. I even had a sit down meeting with my dad and the principal about the horrible things that the note said about me the day that I recovered it from the trash. But all the principal had to say about it was that it was a personal message between 2 people and it was none of my business to get it out of the trash even though it had my first and last name written right on it. My parents finally saw what was happening and the toll it was taking on me mentally and physically so the Fall of 8th grade they agreed to have me switch to another school.
In the beginning of 8th grade, I was finally transferred to my new school but after all the damage that had been done I was never the same person that I was before. In this new place with new people, things got better, but after the trauma that I experienced from my last school I still feared of going to school everyday for what would happen. My mental health was never the same either and when I was entering sophomore year my depression seemed to catch back up with me which made me feel and become completely vulnerable. I tried hard every day to fake a smile on my face and to carry on with my routine of going to school then heading to work to account for the 40 hours I would work each week. But doing all that I became tired, unhappy, and in a world full of people I felt alone. I believe in life we all have a breaking point and sophomore year was mine.
It was a Monday afternoon and I remember running out the doors of Ovid Elsie high school and racing home in my car while tears were coming uncontrollable down my face. I couldn’t stop them from streaming out my eyes and every inch of my body felt physically drained. I pulled into my driveway, crept quietly down the hallway so no one would hear me, and I ran straight inside to my room. I tried to feel the hurt and pain I was experiencing but instead I felt nothing. My head hurt, my body hurt, and it even felt as if my heart was hurting too. The pain seemed like it was middle school all over again and that was something I never wished to feel again. I sat there and silently cried for help while I laid out on my bed even though I know no one could hear me. I wanted a way out. I didn’t understand why god was doing this to me or why any of this was happening. I didn’t want to hurt my family but at the same time I didn’t want to feel this pain either. I walked out to the kitchen where we kept our medicine cabinet and I remember grabbing a handful of bottles and sliding my back down the kitchen cabinets until I reached the floor where I sat there and cried for all of the pain to go away.
The next thing I was able to recall from that day was waking up in a hospital bed a few hours later with my parents on each of my sides with tears running down their faces. I knew something bad had happened because never in my life had I ever seen my dad cry. They just stared at me with the hurt beaming through their face, sobbing, and then eventually reaching in for a hug that felt as if they were never going to let go. I tried hard to piece together how I got here but there was nothing and everything going on in my head all at the same time. It was evident in that moment that I had made a big mistake. Shortly after, the doctor came into the room and pulled my parents outside. At that time, I wasn’t allowed to be left alone so the nurse came in to check on me and come over to ask me questions about how I was feeling and also do a quick examination. When the doctor eventually came in it was just her this time and she slid her stool right next to the side of the bed. I didn’t know what would happen from this point so I felt a sudden rush of uneasiness and could feel myself beginning to sweat underneath the hospital blanket. She started off to explain that I had tried to take my own life. I have always heard about young kids and adults committing suicide on tv and seeing it on Facebook but never in my life did I think I would be in that same position. I had so many goals and dreams for my future and to stop and think that day they could have slipped right through my hands. She briefly explained to me that I have no other choice but to be taken to somewhere where I can get the help that I need and will be taken immediately after they can find me somewhere to go. So much seemed to be happening which was then accompanied by a million questions but I just sat there like a zombie so still and so confused but I was ready to get help and to be myself again.
If I could turn back the time, I wouldn’t. There is not one thing from all of this that I don’t regret other than hurting my family. I am not proud of the things that I did and to this day I sometimes feel a sense of embarrassment, but this lesson has taught me more things than I knew was possible and I believe it has brought me to where I am supposed to be in life. I have learned to count each day as a blessing and to be grateful
Everyone has a story, this one just happens to be mine.