Disclaimer: This ‘my story’ series contains language that may potentially trigger those who have experienced or witnessed abuse. Read with discretion.
You can mark this as the last entry I’ll ever bring up that “first guy” again. Why? Well, this isn’t a story about him. And quite honestly, I don’t like writing about it. It has no bearing over my life, nor do I ever think about him, nor have I for a long time, and I’d like to keep it that way.
The point of it all is that my first experience with dating built a crappy foundation that would follow me for years to come, to those awful years later when things really fell apart. I never learned how to really say no, or to prioritize my well-being, or to stand up for myself, or to recognize when I was hurting and needed support.
I’d like to address something first though. The story I told, about my first date, isn’t uncommon. And in fact, it’s often an innocent and naïve misunderstanding among teens. It’s not uncommon for a boy to think a girl wants him to do something. It’s perfectly normal to misread signals or to have a totally different experience. It’s normal for one person to think, “that was great!,” while the other person is thinking, “that was horrible” (even for adults!). It’s also typical that teens aren’t taught about consent and knowing when you have it or not. (By the way, if you want a great book on this stuff, check out Can I Kiss You?)
Everyone makes mistakes… Teens on first dates make mistakes… It happens when we are young. But here’s one thing I’m sure of. It’s not a mistake when it happens over and over again. It’s not a mistake when someone resists, or says no, or cries, and yet they’re forced to do something anyway. It’s not a mistake when someone terrorizes your family, eggs and prank calls your house, leaves revolting and obscene voice messages on your home machine, or decides to pull your pants down in front of his friends, stick his finger in you, then laugh and walk away. It’s not a mistake when someone keeps hurting.
But aside from that… here’s what’s really crazy… It wasn’t all black and white to me. It was one of the most confusing phases of my life. I battled constant back-and-forth emotions about love. I was happy then incredibly sad. I really did think I loved this boy, which is why I tried so hard to make him care about me. I thought that doing what he asked would help get him to love me and…. then treat me better? I know. It makes no sense. I’d write in my diary, “I love J so much,” and scribble his name everywhere, “J… J… J!” But then, I’d also chronicled all these incidents of me saying no, and how he wouldn’t stop, and how “he’s so annoying,” followed by the details of me doing whatever with tears streaming down my face. Maybe he couldn’t see me crying? And then the next day, I’d be excited if he said hi to me in public. It’s working! I’d think.
Whatever it all was, I’ve shared it because this is what led to everything else… It’s what made me hate myself and hate life. It’s what led to unrelenting depression, years of body dysmorphia, eating disorders, and self-harm. Then, the awful rumors that circled the school just took over. I was threatened and screamed at in the halls every day. I started drinking, my grades dropped, and I was cutting my wrists. I have this memory of kneeling at the foot of my bed one day, looking up at a picture of Jesus on my wall, sobbing, “Why me? Why me??! What have I ever done to deserve this??” That same night, I cut my wrist really bad. I still have a scar from it today. My best friend was so upset. I’d always made her swear never to tell anyone, but this time she yelled at me, “Ashley! I knew I should have told your parents! I should have said something! I should have said something!”
The next day, as unimaginable as it is, someone actually scoffed at my arm in the cafeteria, and that’s when I hit a real low. I was so upset that I ran down the hall to the girls bathroom and ran into a stall. When I shut the door, there staring at me, someone had written, “Ashley Bendiksen should have killed herself.” And I lost it. It was the worst I’d ever felt. Hopeless. I cried and cried and cried in that stall, and I kept thinking about the school, and the secret stairways up, and how I might be able to get to the roof and jump off and be done finally. Forever.
It started with one, but grew with the many. This is the toxicity of high school when we don’t teach self-awareness, boundaries, and kindness – both behind doors and in the crowds. What I experienced is not uncommon. There are teens, sons, daughters, everywhere, either at risk or living through the same pains today. While some make mistakes, others are harmed, which means we should all care! Our teenage years are so formative, and what we learn and experience can impact who we are our entire lives. I learned love and self-worth wrong. I never learned to stand up for myself, or talk to people, or ask for help. Instead, I suffered in silence, stayed confused and unaware, and fell victim years later because of it.
But that’s enough about all of that. Next week, I’m moving on from this… I’m not trying to tell “my story.” I’m trying to tell a lot of peoples’ stories. Mine isn’t anything unique, and I’m reminded of this all the time. I’m just trying to be a voice where there isn’t always one, to help people feel less alone, and to make people understand the issues, the way they really occur.
For what it’s worth, I’ve received countless messages from people in the last few weeks sharing their own experiences – male and female. I’ve talked to people who felt similar to myself, and people who felt they may have at one point misread a signal or disrespected someone themselves. I’m fine with it all. Behaviors, good and bad, are learned. I believe that most people don’t desire to hurt anyone. The point is that we need to talk about these things, now, to make a difference in the world. We all need to come together on the same shared mission. We need to ask ourselves real questions. What if your daughter or son grew up in the high school you did? Would you feel okay with it? What if your daughter or son hung out with the friends you once did? Made the same mistakes? Broke the same rules? Would this terrify you?
I’m on a one-track ride to make this world a better place, to protect that one little girl out there who’s just like me. To help the countless individuals of all ages, right now, who silently suffer all around us, in all of our neighborhoods, every single day. To incite dialogue. To change things. To help people find their voice. To discover self-love. To help those who commit wrongs to simply own up and learn from their mistakes. Imagine if we all only made the same mistake once? If we all just learned and became better people? Imagine if we all learned to live, every day, from a place of love. And imagine this… Imagine if when we are hurt, we were no longer ashamed to come forward or ask for help.
Well, that’s what I’m trying to figure out…. And if it’s by bearing my soul, well then, I’m doing it.
Come back next week. I’m switching things up to a lighter topic. This chapter is done…
Are you hurting? If you need immediate attention, call 911. For anonymous, 24/7 support and guidance, you may contact the following:
- The National Domestic Violence Hotline, 1-800-799-7233 (SAFE)
- National Dating Abuse Helpline, 1-866-331-9474
- National Sexual Assault Hotline, 1-800-656-4673 (HOPE)
- National Suicide Prevention Lifeline, 1-800-273-8255 (TALK)
About: Ashley Bendiksen is a top youth motivational speaker and prevention educator. A survivor speaker and renowned expert in teen dating violence, domestic violence, and sexual assault prevention, Ashley is available as a speaker for middle schools, high schools, colleges, and youth conferences for both students and adults who serve them. She is also a professional development speaker for first responders, victim services providers, and workplaces. Request Ashley to speak.