Our Life Project

My Deliverance

By Joana

"Stop wishing and start doing." - Unknown

Like any other childhood, mine had its ups and downs. The downs were covered with being bullied at school, which began when I was in first grade. I was called fat, ugly, and stupid because of my dyslexia. For a young kid, hearing such things was very hard, and not understanding why was even worse. I didn't realize that having dyslexia made me different, until they began to taunt me with it.

By the fourth grade, the bullying and abuse was almost non-stop. I was told there was no way I was a girl, because girls weren't supposed to be as fat as I was. I was lucky that the abuse didn't reach a physical level, but that doesn't mean the verbal hate was any less painful. Physical bruises can heal, but when the brain and mind are constantly hit with verbal abuse, it takes so much longer to recover from. A part of me will never fully go back to normal from that.

Through my seven long years of torment, I went to three different psychologists. However, they did nothing for my bullying problem or my mental state and my pain didn't end until my tormentors moved to a different school. After that, my friends gradually began to return and my grades skyrocketed. I was in a very happy state and felt as though I was on top of the world, except that content state didn't stay that way for long.

In 2014, I had to have emergency surgery. My appendix ruptured and I almost died. The scars marring my skin lowered my self-esteem greatly, and I added another reason to the list of why I disliked my body. Now the person who bullied me was in reality myself. How could I run away from the person who tortured me when I was inevitably her?

On Christmas Day of 2014, my world was shattered. I got a call from my father telling me he wanted a divorce from my mother. I found out that he had been cheating on my mom for five years, and she had known about it all along. She refused to tell me until Christmas Day. What a gift it was.

My relationship with my dad went quickly downhill, and I lost all respect for him. He had been my hero, but he destroyed that by hurting my mom. I am still in contact with him but it's not the same, and it never will be. How can it? On the other hand, my mom and I became really close, and our bond grew strong. We were still mother and daughter, but now with some bestfriend aspects thrown into the mix.

Yet even with her in my life, I was still broken. I thought it was my fault, and I allowed myself to fall into a state of terrible depression. It got so bad that by January, I was cutting myself in hopes of forgetting my problems. The pain had suddenly become my only companion in the blur of life. I suffered this way for a year and a half, facing high and low points through the journey.

In 2016, a miracle happened, called The Life Project. I cannot express how glad I am that I took the plunge and joined. This community has become my second family. I may not know them in person, but family runs deeper than that. At least this one does. I am always meeting new people, learning about new cultures, and creating new bonds of love and friendship. They have helped me become more positive and content, and in return, I get to help others to achieve that. It turns out that I am not as alone as I first thought.