It Gets Better
After reading yet another story about teen suicides, especially suicides in the gay community, I felt compelled to type this. In the interest of full disclosure, I'm an asexual woman, so if you're an LGBT teenager, you might be wondering, "What the hell can some random bitch on the Internet have to say that applys to me?" But on the off-chance that someone who really needs to hear this sees this, I hope this helps you.
Many moons ago, a man and a woman fell in love and married in a little church in Chicago. Not much time went by before the woman found out she was pregnant with a daughter. At first, she was very excited and started shopping for baby things, reading parenting books, and she even quit her job six months into her pregnancy. Both the man and the woman were very happy when the baby arrived, at least at first. Time went by, and the woman began to feel trapped. She couldn't find another job, and she grew more and more despondent as her baby didn't walk on the same timeline as other babies did. She started to resent her baby for taking away her husband's attention.
One day, when the baby was two years old, and the baby's father was at work, the woman took a handgun out of a drawer and shot herself in the head. When the baby's father came home from work that day, he found his daughter crying, not understanding what had happened, and his wife, dead, with a bullet wound to her head. There was a note on the table, explaining what she had done and why she had done it.
In case you haven't figured it out yet, that woman was my mother, and the baby was me.
Fast-forward fifteen years: My entire life up to this point had been difficult- I could not isolate sounds easily, bright light hurt me terribly, and I was failing all of my classes. Two years earlier the only positive female influence in my life (my great-grandmother) had passed away. I had no idea what to do, and in desperation, my father took me to a clinical psychologist, who did a battery of tests on me. It was revealed that I had a learning disability known as NVLD. It explained a lot of things, like why I hadn't walked until a few weeks before my mother killed herself and why I couldn't tolerate bright light without being in extreme pain.
Most people would have been happy to hear why they had problems, and I was sort of at peace, realizing that it wasn't stupidity that made me do those things. But at the same time, I fell into deep despair. I was defective. Something was wrong with me. My mother must have known and couldn't live with the shame of having a daughter like me, that's why she shot herself. So I decided to do my father a favor and kill myself. I tried first by jumping off the roof of the apartment building. Being only three stories up, the only thing I did to myself was break my ankle when I landed.
The second time, I tried to slit my wrists, but my dad found me before any permanent damage was done. The third and final time, I tried to overdose on medication, but all that did was make me puke my guts out. Now, I am grateful that I survived. At the time? I found myself to be incredibly incompetent. I was so much of failure at life that I was even a failure at dying.
But you know what? It gets better.
I have always had a natural talent with computers, and was hired by a tech support repair shop to fix computers that the customers brought in, even before I was out of high school. I made my best friends there, and we're still in touch even though I've gone on to university and a new job. I managed to get into university despite my disability, where I'm currently working towards a computer science degree. I've gotten a new job in a tech support call center, and while I can't exactly say that it's fun, I'm at least making money. I have friends now. And I've even learned to isolate sounds, although I still have difficulty hearing when there's a lot of background noise. Think of me as talking to your deaf old Aunt Sally- you've got to scream. I still have difficulty with light, but by now, people are used to me walking around with dark sunglasses on all the time, even if it's cloudy out or even inside, depending on the severity of the fluorescent lighting.
I am not LGBT. My story doesn't really relate to your struggles. But you know what? Things do get better, no matter if you're gay, straight, asexual (like me), or transgendered. It doesn't matter if your brain functions perfectly, or if you have a disability. It doesn't matter what your race is, what your gender is, or what your religion is. I wish I could tell you that haters just magically go away when you're in the workforce, but they don't. But what you will learn is that in the end, in the workforce, the only thing that matters is how well you do your job. You'll be able to make money and buy nice things. You will find people who love and accept you for who you are. And karma will come around in the end.
I'd like to give every single one of you a big hug, but I can't possibly do that IRL. So take a huge e-hug from me, and remember: it gets better. It really does. And if you ever call a tech support service and I answer the phone, feel free to talk to me about non-computer issues. I promise. I'll listen.
Cheers,
Simona
Many moons ago, a man and a woman fell in love and married in a little church in Chicago. Not much time went by before the woman found out she was pregnant with a daughter. At first, she was very excited and started shopping for baby things, reading parenting books, and she even quit her job six months into her pregnancy. Both the man and the woman were very happy when the baby arrived, at least at first. Time went by, and the woman began to feel trapped. She couldn't find another job, and she grew more and more despondent as her baby didn't walk on the same timeline as other babies did. She started to resent her baby for taking away her husband's attention.
One day, when the baby was two years old, and the baby's father was at work, the woman took a handgun out of a drawer and shot herself in the head. When the baby's father came home from work that day, he found his daughter crying, not understanding what had happened, and his wife, dead, with a bullet wound to her head. There was a note on the table, explaining what she had done and why she had done it.
In case you haven't figured it out yet, that woman was my mother, and the baby was me.
Fast-forward fifteen years: My entire life up to this point had been difficult- I could not isolate sounds easily, bright light hurt me terribly, and I was failing all of my classes. Two years earlier the only positive female influence in my life (my great-grandmother) had passed away. I had no idea what to do, and in desperation, my father took me to a clinical psychologist, who did a battery of tests on me. It was revealed that I had a learning disability known as NVLD. It explained a lot of things, like why I hadn't walked until a few weeks before my mother killed herself and why I couldn't tolerate bright light without being in extreme pain.
Most people would have been happy to hear why they had problems, and I was sort of at peace, realizing that it wasn't stupidity that made me do those things. But at the same time, I fell into deep despair. I was defective. Something was wrong with me. My mother must have known and couldn't live with the shame of having a daughter like me, that's why she shot herself. So I decided to do my father a favor and kill myself. I tried first by jumping off the roof of the apartment building. Being only three stories up, the only thing I did to myself was break my ankle when I landed.
The second time, I tried to slit my wrists, but my dad found me before any permanent damage was done. The third and final time, I tried to overdose on medication, but all that did was make me puke my guts out. Now, I am grateful that I survived. At the time? I found myself to be incredibly incompetent. I was so much of failure at life that I was even a failure at dying.
But you know what? It gets better.
I have always had a natural talent with computers, and was hired by a tech support repair shop to fix computers that the customers brought in, even before I was out of high school. I made my best friends there, and we're still in touch even though I've gone on to university and a new job. I managed to get into university despite my disability, where I'm currently working towards a computer science degree. I've gotten a new job in a tech support call center, and while I can't exactly say that it's fun, I'm at least making money. I have friends now. And I've even learned to isolate sounds, although I still have difficulty hearing when there's a lot of background noise. Think of me as talking to your deaf old Aunt Sally- you've got to scream. I still have difficulty with light, but by now, people are used to me walking around with dark sunglasses on all the time, even if it's cloudy out or even inside, depending on the severity of the fluorescent lighting.
I am not LGBT. My story doesn't really relate to your struggles. But you know what? Things do get better, no matter if you're gay, straight, asexual (like me), or transgendered. It doesn't matter if your brain functions perfectly, or if you have a disability. It doesn't matter what your race is, what your gender is, or what your religion is. I wish I could tell you that haters just magically go away when you're in the workforce, but they don't. But what you will learn is that in the end, in the workforce, the only thing that matters is how well you do your job. You'll be able to make money and buy nice things. You will find people who love and accept you for who you are. And karma will come around in the end.
I'd like to give every single one of you a big hug, but I can't possibly do that IRL. So take a huge e-hug from me, and remember: it gets better. It really does. And if you ever call a tech support service and I answer the phone, feel free to talk to me about non-computer issues. I promise. I'll listen.
Cheers,
Simona