Camille's Journal (TW)

[camille13512]

-- TW cont. (languge, physical abuse, emotional abuse) --
I was taught so many wrong things over such a long time that it felt baffling the first time I talked to normal people after I got out. Obedience is discipline; discipline means uniformity; uniformity is power; self-shame is a virtue; kindness is weakness; admiration equals lewdness; and life is only of instrumental value (if you don't function, you are not worthy).

Love was a forbidden word. It was shameful to show affection, any kind of affection. If we just stood too close together the teachers got suspicious. I was called to the office so many times because I would laugh at jokes told by a boy sitting next to me. I learned to be ashamed of almost all feelings, good and bad, because we were not allowed to have them.The only one I was allowed to keep was shame and despair. And kids would laugh at me for being a coward, a cry baby, a spineless pathetic wreck.

But there was always an exception, and those exceptions, I believe, are the main reason why I never successfully eliminate the little one in me. It was during my early teenage year. I was already used to being bullied or witness bullying, but during that brief period of time there was this group of kids in school who seemed to have a mutual understanding of the situation and decided to never do that to each other. That was the only time I remembered I could be a bit relieved, and even happy.

It was also helpful that there were a couple of  teachers who tried to shield us from the toxic environment. The other teachers, though, were especially harsh on us because we were "hard to discipline". In the school gatherings and meetings, we were always called out to be the "worst kids they ever taught", that we were "wasting the parents' money, wasting the society's resources", and we "were destined to become trash" once we grew up. But we had each other, and that was (almost) enough to become resilient. The boys often got corporeal punishment. The girls were shamed more often. One male teacher constantly implied that we did not dress properly, and even said to one girl that she was dressed like a whore (because she was wearing a white shirt that got a bit transparent after PE class due to sweat). We fought back by refusing to obey the teachers deliberately, but there was only so much we could do without being punished two folds worse.

The hierarchy in the school not only affected us, but also the younger teachers. A very gentle and likeable teacher was constantly chided and pushed around by her older colleagues for being "too easy" on us. She was bullied into tears after one chaotic class because we got too excited in the classroom. So we gathered together, and wrote encouraging words to her on a card to cheer her up.  That didn't go too well for her and us either, because teacher wasn't supposed to bond with students that way; they were supposed to hold absolute authority over us, to be feared and to be obeyed. I remember that we sat together, whispering how much we appreciated her, with the thick air absorbing the helplessness we all felt, fearing that she might get fired because of us.

[camille13512]

-- TW cont. (language, physical/emotional abuse) --
There are other things. I haven't sorted through them all out yet, like the drowning sensations I get every time I go to a swimming pool. It's a strange pulling force: I want to go in and stay away at the same time, and I only have a small clue about where it comes from. Some of the other stories, even though I can picture every single detail, I don't think I will ever get a chance to talk about it without getting repercussions even today. I will need to wait for at least another thirty years maybe.


I finally let it out, here, public, open, on the internet where anyone that wants to read can find it. Not completely, not everything that bothers me, but it's here now. I had people who knew the story call me snowflake, because so many kids went through the same thing, and I was the only one whining about it. The rest of them either shake their head, because "it can't be that bad", or the opposite, "everyone had it tough in childhood".

To be frank I'm not sure how to feel about it myself even, I should be angry, or at least upset, but all I have is a feeling of emptiness, like something is ripped from my inside, and wind blows through it, making weird sound.

But I don't want to pretend I'm normal. I'm not. I'm the glitch in the uniform pattern, the frequency out of the range. I'm not conforming to what has been long accepted.

Today everywhere I go, I carry the feeling of eyes on my back, all the time. My counteracting strategy is very strange: I seek monitors and cameras in the public place. I feel being watched all the time, might it as well be something that actually exists. I don't feel safe; I'm prepared to jump, run, fight back. But sometimes, maybe the only way to stay safe is to not feel safe.

-- TW ends --

[camille13512]

I'm sorry it turned out to be so lengthy. Really I could probably summarize it in just one sentence: bullied and harassed when growing up. But I want to preserve the details. I can't duplicate the horror; it's something that is really not comprehensible without first-hand experience, and I will never, never wish that on anyone. I omitted a lot of things already because I'm not ready to reveal something that might expose myself in real life. But I think it matters to record as much as I can at this moment, even just pieces of it.

I don't know. I'm so naive sometimes. Right now it feels good to just tell it without receiving dubious glances from people.

[Three Roses]

Oh, dear Camille! I was also stood in front of a class, to shame me, and when you told of that experience, my heart went racing back there, standing in front of 30 or so laughing, pointing children. A feeling of being completely ostracized, abandoned, by my peers came over me. Such an awful feeling, a horrifying experience! I empathize with you. 

Without doubt, you endured extreme abuse. You should have been nurtured, protected, and instead the very people who were supposed to be caring for you were your bullies and abusers. I stand as a witness with you to this horrifying betrayal of your trust, an innocent child being brutally and cruelly treated this way.

It's out, in the light of day. It's not your shame, because you did nothing wrong to be ashamed of. The shame belongs to the adults who failed miserably in their role as protectors.

[sanmagic7]

not a whiner, but a truth-teller, camille.  and, nope, the shame belongs to the others, not you.  you don't have to carry that for them.  i'm glad you let it out.  big hug.

[DecimalRocket]

Hey Camille, that sounded terrible.

I remember my own intense shame — though it had less to do with emotional abuse than it was emotional neglect — an ignorance of my existence to a damaging extent. There wasn't much going on externally, but I often felt day and day in that everyone's eyes were on me — laughing at me, seeing me as worthless and shaming me for my own emotions.

Big sigh here. It was really abuse that you've experienced there. The disrespect to your own feelings — things that are inherent in human nature itself. The extremely impossible standards. Punishments against you as a human being rather than your temporary actions. The discouragement of nurturing and love. The abuse of power.

Take care Camille. Take care.

[camille13512]

Three Roses, I'm so sorry that you went through the same thing. I'm sorry that my memory conjured yours. Thank you for confirming with me that this is abuse. My ICr keeps telling me that I just want to complain, that these are normal things kids go through. Thank you for assuring me that it is not, that it is beyond normalcy. Thank you for your empathy. I think I need those now. 

[camille13512]

San, thank you for stopping by. I hope you are not stretching your limit too far for me. Please take care. Hug you back.

[camille13512]

Decimal, emotional negligence is among the worst experience. You are right that it damages us when we are treated not as human beings, not as someone who shares the same humanity. I told T once that my life so far has been about power abuse, and she nodded her head. Thank you and everyone else for giving it the right name, abuse without excuses. I'm still struggling to kick ICr back, but having a place to come back and re-read those reassurances really help. 

[camille13512]

Letting things out was scary, and then relieving, until it returned something very much unexpected: my memories. I have been a mess until early this morning. It's the first time it happened: I am reliving a visual flashback, accompanied by the usual EF. I don't think I ever lost the memory about it; it was this corner in my mind that I refused to look at; I dimmed the light, let dust fall on it, zoomed out, so I didn't have to deal with it. But I knew it was always there. And somehow, by telling my story here, I accidentally switched the light in the room, wiped out the dust, adjusted the focal length so that it was clear in focus.

-- TW (bullying) --
It was a very small thing I remembered, but I have been obsessed with this new piece of information. I was seven years old. It was a birthday party, the first and only one I was ever invited to. I wore the new coat M bought for me; it had a lovely ribbon in the front. They, the kids, threw it on the floor, stampped on it in turns as an entertaining game; I watched it being dragged across the greasy floor of the room helplessly in tears. When it all ended, I picked up the coat, thinking maybe it could be still saved after I asked M to wash off the dirt; I would tell her that I accidentally dropped it. And then I saw it, the surface of the ribbon was worn out. I don't think I ever wore that coat again. Later that night M got mad at me for not calling her to pick me up; she thought I was having too much a good time that I didn't want to respond. I couldn't tell her the truth so I just kept saying I was sorry, I didn't know.
-- TW ends --

I keep seeing the image of the ribbon. It is some kind of fake velvet, smooth, grey, and shines in light. And then in the middle there is the area that has been rubbed off. I also see the face of the boy who suggested the "game". There is so much venom and exhilaration about being able to punish me in his eyes. I keep staring that pair of eyes back.

I think I finally understand why there is so much hatred in ICr's voice. Because I was hated, by a lot of people. I saw in their eyes their wishes for me to disappear. I don't understand. What did I do?

I'm in such a mess right now. But on the upper side, I think, this is the first time I actually feel bad for myself.

[Blueberry]

oh Camille, i'm so sorry  and more  for little 7 year old you. The only birthday party you went to and they bullied you, they ruined your coat with your lovely ribbon. No adult there to care or help you, no parent you could turn to afterwards with your hurt.

You didn't do anything! Some people like to bully. They have their reasons for that, but it doesn't have anything to do with you! Their reasons aren't OK either. They need help in correcting their behaviour, at least.

I know what it feels like to be hated in childhood and for people to want me to disappear, to not exist. So will others on here. 

[sanmagic7]

 

[DecimalRocket]

 

I know what it's like to be bullied and left out like that. It really is something cruel to take a child's wonder towards the world and to allow you to grow up feeling that way.

Take care.

[camille13512]

Thank you, Blueberry. Now I am finally out of constantly seeing the image of the ribbon, I realize it was such an awful memory because it is about something I loved getting destroyed in front of my eyes. I felt responsible for not saving the coat, the ribbon, much more than the feeling that I was hurt as a seven year old.

I want to agree with you that it's just a lot of horrible people I met, that they hated for nothing. But I often wonder whether they were also projecting their own suffering on me, because I was on the bottom of the food chain. I'm not looking for excuses; what they did cannot be waved away by anything; but I don't feel resentment any more, just really tired, and some sadness that we (the bullies and I) grew up together like this. We could have been friends, could have had fun together, could have shared and shouldered each other's pain, but instead they chose to do this, and I couldn't defend myself.

Thank you for understanding. I always know I'm not alone. It's just I'm alone in the memories. It's painful to relive it, but I'm glad I did, because it felt one thing I got to resolve.

[camille13512]

Decimal,  thank you for understanding. I'm sorry that you knew how it felt too. The other day I felt really relieved after I chatted with a co-worker for a bit. I think it is because I believe he's friendly and doesn't hate me. It is really nice talking to someone who I believe doesn't hate me. I think I subconsciously group people into: hate me, not sure, not hate me, and never let my guard down if I interact with the first two categories. It is so very exhausting to have do this all the time without even realizing it. 

San,