“Mom, am I ugly?” Those were the words I spoke to my mother when I was seven years old, when I was in the second grade. My mother frowned, melted. “Awww, Ashleeeey, no you’re not ugly… Why would you even ask me that?” I never explained it to her.
You see, my second grade teacher was mean to me. My dad would say, “some teachers are just mean Ashley,” but this was different. Her meanness bothered me. I always felt singled out. She would reprimand me in front of the class, embarrass me, call my parents to say I was “disruptive,” though I never did anything wrong.
I tried heeding my dad’s advice, but something still didn’t make sense. And that’s when I noticed it. She was mean to me, but she wasn’t mean to everyone. In fact, she adored one little girl in class. She would give her attention, a front row desk, let her erase the board, pass out papers, and call on her for answers. Why was she so mean to me, but so nice to her?
Then, I noticed more. It wasn’t just my teacher. Everyone seemed to love this little girl! The parents loved her too. The bell would ring and we’d all run out of the building where our moms stood waiting to pick us up, and I’d hear them say things like, “Oh, she’s so adorable! Look at that little outfit! Oh my goodness, her little face! Look at those shoes. Oh, she is beauuuuutiful!”
And that’s when it hit me. Is that what it is? I wore hand-me-down clothes. My hair wasn’t cute. No one ever complimented me after school. So if she’s beautiful, am I ugly? And that was the day I asked. And while it may not seem like much, I started seeing the world differently, as early as 7 years old. I saw myself differently. How you look impacts how people treat you, was what I now thought.
So it’s no surprise that my self-esteem sucked for a long time. It took a lot of self-reflection to pinpoint the moments in my life that caused me to have no confidence. The truth is that from second grade forward, I grew quiet. I raised my hand less. I expected teachers not to like me. I expected to be picked on, singled out. I just never thought I fit in, and that suffocating self-doubt carried with me even into adulthood.
Eventually, I was middle school bound. With braces, coke bottle glasses, and yes, more hand-me-down clothes, I was picked on and bullied a lot by my classmates, every day affirming and validating my belief even more – that how you look impacts how people treat you.
And of course, when the boys pick on you, it’s even worse. In middle school, as a teenage girl, you start to think about boys a lot. It’s the first time in your life when your own peers start dating. I’d watch the girls around me, many already having boyfriends, and I’d wonder if I would have one too.
Instead, I had crush after crush. Some would find out and laugh. On Valentine’s Day every year, the school would sell carnations. I’d spend all day wondering if I should buy my crush a carnation, only to talk myself out of it, or I’d fantasize that maybe they’d buy me one too, or that anyone would. But no one every did. The final bell would ring, and I’d hate all the girls juggling 5-10 carnations in their hands walking out. The same feeling of worthlessness happened at every school dance, when my friends would ask my crush to dance with me only to say no, or when I’d get my hopes up on with one more song to go and no one would ask me. When you’re 13, this stuff matters to you. It hurts. You feel like you’re destined to be alone and unlovable forever.
But then, opportunity hit. Middle school ended and it was the summer before high school, and I was about to become a brand new me, at least, a me with a brand new look. My dad gave me a small allowance to buy new clothes. I let my hair down, bought makeup, and replaced my glasses with contacts. And on the first day of high school, I walked down the halls, and all eyes were finally on me.
Finally, I fit in. Finally, I looked the part. But attention can sometimes come with a steep price, and for me, that price was devastating. In short time, I’d find myself cutting my wrists, drinking before school, not eating, hiding in bathroom stalls, crying in my bedroom and praying to God, “Why? Why me? What have I ever done wrong?” What happened next changed the trajectory of my entire young life. It set me off down a path that today, I feel wholheartedly blessed to no longer be on.
This marks the hard beginning of this story that I am now sharing with the world, and I hope you’re interested enough to keep reading on. Meanwhile, if you have questions about this post, ask them in the comments below and I will answer every one of them.
Until next week… Until more…
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.
I was abused by my husband for almost 25 years, right up until our separation and subsequent divorce