Disjointed

This is one of the only times -- perhaps the first in the years I've been writing this blog -- that I titled a post before I typed even one word. I'm fond, for some reason, of writing posts when I am over-tired and need to go the hell to bed, but those times are often when something is weighing on my mind and writing about it before trying to sleep is just a damn good idea.

Okay. First. Unrelated to what I just said: It's cold as fuck in my apartment. Maybe it would help if I put on pants or turned on the heat. Pfft.

I went to Katie's memorial last Saturday. It went a little better than I expected, I guess, i.e., I didn't sob through it like I thought I might. I had to push my tongue against my teeth HARD a couple times to stop from crying at what I felt were inappropriate moments, like when I met Katie's nephew for the first time, but had just walked by a huge picture of Katie posed with her son and reality just smacked me in the face again. Never going to see her again. NEVER.

The service was HYPER religious; I must've heard the preacher say 'God' at least 100 times. I don't care how many times we prayed or how uncomfortable I felt while everyone around me recited the 23rd Psalm. (I never had to learn it, so I just sat there waiting for them to get to the part that I knew. Turns out I was thinking of a different psalm entirely.) What I cared about was the fact that the service didn't represent Katie at all. I think half my family are atheists, so I have no idea who arranged the service. It wouldn't have mattered if the preacher juggled and told jokes; it was still a damn funeral.

There's so much more about this that I need to understand. I won't know everything, obviously, since there's no transcript of Katie's thoughts that I can read, but I just need to know more.

Though Katie was neither a teenager nor gay, I thought a lot about her yesterday during Spirit Day. Though I don't really know who reads this blog, I wanted to address the notion of bullying a bit. Even if no gay teens ever see this, I feel it needs to be said, especially because a lot of the messages from the It Gets Better campaign have really impacted me, including the one from Dave Holmes, and I'm closing in on 20 years outside of adolescence.

I got bullied in elementary school, junior high, and high school for being fat. I was good friends with a girl in high school who came out as bi and suffered the wrath of our classmates who already didn't like her for being "weird." I could've used some good 'it gets better' messages then because I didn't believe it would. Junior high was the worst: I attracted the attention of a group of hideous girls who wouldn't leave me alone. They made fun of me, pulled my hair, taunted me, teased me. I don't remember saying much in return and ignoring them certainly didn't help. I'm very glad I had no idea I was gay until I got to college; I can only imagine how much worse things could've been had I been out. The teasing tapered off after I got to high school. Rather than go to the public high school where most of my junior high classmates probably went, I went to a private school. I got to redefine who I was and although I was teased well into sophomore year for my weight, I was eventually left alone. Maybe we all just got old enough or maybe the comments were just said behind my back. I certainly gained enough weight in high school to attract scorn all the way to graduation day.

Now that I think about it, the comments had to have been behind my back. At the massive graduation/pool party thrown by the boy I thought I was in love with (I actually fell in love with a boy the next year and could easily tell the difference), some guy found my dry clothes in a bag near the pool and, to his great amusement, pulled out my bra and undies and modeled them for his friends. I suppose I could've let it go but I marched across the lawn, yanked my stuff away, and left the party minutes later. (It was 4:00 a.m. It was okay.) The best part of that scenario was watching one of the guys back away from me in fear. I should've shoved the main jerk in the pool.

I'm glad my parents insisted I go to the private school. Some time after I left junior high, I acknowledged that I probably would've killed myself if I'd gone to school another four years with the girls who targeted me. I remember the notion of suicide being a very matter-of-fact solution, so I'd like to think I understand, if only in the tiniest way, what some of the kids who've killed themselves were going through prior to their deaths. I'm glad that my size and being biracial in a school mostly full of lily-white kids eclipsed whatever tiny feelings I'd begun acknowledging towards women. Had I been my bullied classmate, who was openly and viciously teased no matter how hard she fought back, I might not be here today.

I'm hardly the first person to say this, but it's so very simple for adults to say 'it gets better' and to wear purple and be thankful that we're here and not there. This, then, is my small gesture to anyone, teen or not, who needs to hear it. If you're not a teen, consider it a refresher course to push through a unfavorable situation: You can do this. You can get through. It may be dark and sticky and hateful right now but it really is going to get better. You'll find your voice and some true friends who like you for who you are. You will find your tribe, your place, and you will blossom. Know that all the hate and vitriol coming your way is not about you. It's about the other person's issues (fear, self-loathing, etc.). Don't buy into the negative things that other people say about you. You are made of awesome, they are jealous, and someday, hopefully soon, you'll never have to see them again. Unless you pay $40 to attend a really boring reunion, during which time everyone around you laughs about their kids' poopy diapers while you drink a lot of beer. Ahem. Joking aside, there are resources like The Trevor Project and Hopeline (1-800-SUICIDE) that can help. Know how many people are pulling for you, people who know some or all of what you've gone through, people who are now (relatively) well-adjusted and free of torment. We're your family, we're your allies, and we're pulling for you.