It’s Wednesday, 7pm, and I’m crying for no precise reason. I guess I’m not alone; these days are terrible for many of us. But I’ve been feeling terrible for two years now, never really saying it out loud. However, it’s not like I’ve needed to feel this way to cry a lot.
When I was as young as a primary school student, I quickly became ‘the girl who always cries.” My emotions were intense: when I was hurt, I couldn’t avoid expressing my sadness. I was so ashamed of this. I felt weak. My mum used to tell me ‘You can only cry when you get hurt,’ to which I used to answer ‘My heart hurts.’ I’ve always been extremely sensitive so I got pretty used to crying, but I remained ashamed and guilty. I felt abnormal. I still do, in a way.
When I was in middle school, things started to get tricky. I discovered bullying. A bunch of people making you feel like trash, like you’re worthless, like you’re the worst person in the world and that you don’t deserve love. And I believed them. I also discovered that not everyone protects and defends their friends ‘no matter what,’ although that was what I would always do. No one ever defended me. I felt betrayed, and again, responsible and guilty for what was happening to me.
The bullying stopped for a few years. I went to another school. I always managed to have friends, but it was always complicated. Very often through years, people - each time different - that I used to trust would turn their back on me without any reason. Again, I thought that I was the reason. That I didn’t deserve love nor friendship. Bullying quickly came back, a few years later, only worse. Again, I felt so weak. I’ve been told that nobody will ever love me. I’ve been told to commit suicide. And I remember very clearly what I felt. I didn’t feel mad at the boy who told me that. I felt ashamed, as always. I was horrified by myself: after all it was obvious to me that I was a terrible person. Otherwise, no one would tell me such things. I felt like I wouldn’t be able to look my classmates in the eyes again. I remember a girl telling me that I was worthy, that I didn’t deserve to be treated like that. I couldn’t believe it. It seems obvious to so many people, but to me, it doesn’t. It took me a long time to realize that it was bullying.
I was fifteen when I got a best friend, he was four years older than me. I spent all my time with him. I was sixteen when I started a sort of long-distance romantic relationship with his younger brother. A nightmare began. Since the very beginning, he’s been deeply toxic. He made unacceptable comments about my body, he manipulated me and made me feel like trash. He was ignoring me for a while, coming back only when he wanted to. Still he was sometimes kind, promising to make an effort in the future. He kept me like that for two years. I never thought that I deserved better. I thought that I was the guilty one, that my expectations were too high.
Despite the hardships, I worked hard during my last year of highschool and got into Sciences Po. Very few people believed in me. I was so glad to prove everybody wrong, even myself. I thought that my sufferings were coming to an end.
If only I knew. During my two first months of uni life, of adult and independent life, I lost what I thought to be my best friend and my boyfriend. Both of them destroyed me. Sciences Po didn’t help. I felt like an impostor right from the beginning. The people there were so clever, so impressive… I didn’t belong there. I’ve always been rejected, why would it be any different there? I met so many amazing people, and I love some of them very much. Still, my self-confidence remains equal to zero. During my second year, two other people - one after another - hurt me. I didn’t realize they were toxic, didn’t see the red flags. I left them as soon as I did, but still I suffered. Each time something happens, I question myself, trying to figure what I could have done better. I always try to do well, and I always feel guilty in the end. Am I responsible for attracting all of the bad stuff?
And then I found out about hypersensitivity. I don’t know if it has any scientific explanation, but I don’t care. That’s just who I am. My feelings are always intense, and they won’t stop until I die. That’s why I cry - not all the time, but often - but that’s also why I got into Sciences Po and why I love literature. That's also why I act for the causes I believe in. That’s also why I’m creative and passionate. My sensitivity is my worst weakness, but it’s also my greatest strength.
I also found out about feminism. I’m learning every single day about it. I realized that a major part of my sufferings are due to the world we live in: insensitive and tough for women. I realized that I had accepted things that should never have happened because I was socialized to do so. I realized that I let boys treat me like trash because our society made me think that I was worthy only if I was desirable to men. For the sake of human beings, this has to stop.
I also understood that most people who hurt me in the past were people who were suffering as well. I understood that girls and boys live in a competitive world that doesn’t leave much space for love and compassion. I understood that I should not feel guilty for being who I am, for feeling what I feel, for acting how I act. I should not feel guilty about crying when I need to.
And still my life is getting ruined because of my traumas. It’s so hard for me to trust people, to know if I can count on them as friends or if they’ll end up treating me like a burden: this feeling of loneliness has grown for years inside me. So many times I was betrayed and have suffered because of it. Today, people tell me it was bad luck. I do believe it in a way; circumstances have not always favoured me. However, it’s hard to be lucid, to convince yourself that you are not the problem. When you’ve known toxicity, it’s hard to believe that you deserve true friendship and true love. However, I don’t feel legitimate for complaining because I’ve never been hit, I’ve never been raped. I’ve had a good education, I’ve lived many great experiences, I’ve had material comfort, I’ve had a loving family. I haven’t experienced a hundredth of what minorities suffer. As a consequence, I feel like I’m the only one responsible for my pain. That’s why I was crying again tonight, Wednesday, 7pm. The road is long, but I’m ready for the journey.
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