I have been bullied for as long as I can remember. Sometimes it was by family (not my parents folks, leave them the fuck out of this), most of the time it was by people I went to school with, and some I considered friends.
I knew early that I wasn’t “normal” like everyone else. I enjoyed reading, learning, things that honestly, still make people look at you. As of writing this, I haven’t had a drink in four years. I have come to the conclusion that I clearly have a tribe out there, but we’re all so weird and mostly introverted, so we are thankful that the internet exists, otherwise we’d be lonelier than we are.
But, that is down another path really.
Over the last six-ish years I have been brought down mentally by someone who gaslit me (No, not my husband) to the point I still am not sure who I am. I used to be able to tell you – I’m a writer, I’m a photographer, I love to draw, even if I’m not the best at it… but now… that is something I can’t do. I really, honest and for true, have lost my sense of self through emotional abuse.
I’m back to square one. I’m learning to find my passions again. Even if I feel like the other shoe is going to drop on me, and someone is going to say “Well, I know composition and that makes me the better artist”. You know how I think now? I think “If you know it so well, why don’t you teach me so I can learn to be better?”
I don’t know if that means I’m healing, but as it has been said, it’s a long way to the top if you want to rock and roll.