Disclaimer: This ‘my story’ series contains language that may potentially trigger those who have experienced or witnessed abuse. Read with discretion.
My boy band crush was A.J. from the Backstreet Boys. The other day, my sister asked me if I think this is why I tend to like men with facial hair. I couldn’t help but laugh. Do we somehow choose dates who resemble our childhood celebrity crush? I doubt it. I’m pretty sure I also loved River Phoenix in Stand By Me at the same exact time. Definitely the opposite of A.J. Though, I do think it’s why I liked boys with piercings and tattoos. I mean, remember Trent from Daria? I thought he was a hottie too. Maybe I just like musicians. Who knows?!
It’s funny thinking about it though… how not so long before high school, I was innocently daydreaming about marrying a Backstreet Boy. On my 13th birthday, exactly one year before high school, I had a Backstreet Boys cake! And not long before that, fan letters were a ‘thing’ and I used to write ‘em. Actual letters. Of course, I never actually sent any of them, but I did write them, or I’d think about writing them, and all the possibilities. I’d think, maybe A.J. will get this letter and want to meet me, and then we can fall in love, and I can introduce my sister and my cousins and we can all marry them!
My point is, I was a pretty normal, typical teenage girl before high school ever began. How did everything change so fast? I was never prepared for any of it. I was never prepared for the awful rumors, for the words and hate that would be flung towards me on a regular basis. I was never prepared for that first lunch shift when some girl yelled “slut!,” except it wasn’t just at me – she yelled it out loud in front of everyone! I had no idea what to do. I was shy already. I certainly didn’t have the nerve to speak up or say anything.
When it first started, I told my mom. She’d say, “Ashley, just ignore them. Don’t listen to them. They’ll stop eventually.” But it really didn’t stop. Thankfully, things quieted down towards Junior year and life got easier after that, but that doesn’t lessen the excruciating pain I felt every single day for two straight years.
From the writing on the bathroom walls, to hearing someone yell, “I’ll run that bitch over with my car! Yeah, watch yourself Ashley!,” it was constant. I can remember speed walking through the parking lot, trying not to make eye contact with anyone, making a bee-line to a side street where my mother would be waiting for me in her van. When she’d ask how my day was, I wouldn’t tell her any of it. I’d say everything was fine.
I’d get elbowed walking down the hallway. I’d stare straight forward as they yelled “skank!” inches from my face. There were corners and halls I’d avoid because certain crowds would gather, crowds that didn’t like me. Other times I’d get backed into my locker by someone accusing me of liking their boyfriend, someone I maybe shared a class with or once talked with. It was endless. I tried my best to ignore it, and hope it really would just stop, but I couldn’t do anything right.
I do want to make clear one quick point… I wasn’t bullied by every single person. That would be impossible. But it’s not a stretch, at all, for me to say that the majority knew that I was being bullied. It was overt and obvious. It was loud. It was a small school. It was written on the stalls! And I know I wasn’t just imagining all the stares… This certainly doesn’t mean that everyone was complicit, but it says a lot about peer leadership and whether we are teaching young people to stand up and do the right thing. Imagine if more teens bravely said, “You don’t know that’s true,” or “Leave her alone.” Imagine if they confidentially told an adult. Imagine if more of them had tried to just be my friend? More about that another day…
But get this.. what bothers me most is how I felt about myself. It’s the pain I faced daily, behind closed doors, the pain that can carry for a lifetime. From repeat victimization to the ceaseless bullying, I hated who I was. I developed major self-confidence issues. I thought I was ugly, and fat. I developed harmful eating habits and would go through phases where I’d binge eat anything I wanted, or I’d starve myself. I’d eat one piece of bread all day and take an hour to eat it, breaking off one small bite at a time so that I’d burn off calories faster than I could consume it. I’d have a granola bar and a Gatorade, at best, for lunch every day. In fact, I’d been brainwashed so much by someone into thinking my body was unattractive that I experienced body dysmorphia for years. I’d see ‘fat’ in the mirror. My tummy was never thin enough. And I seriously considered implants for almost 8 years.
I also had this looming, ever-present worry about how I dressed, about looking a certain way. I spent inconceivable amounts of time in the morning getting ready. I used to analyze how the other girls dressed so I could mimic their styles. There was this one older girl in school who always looked so great. Everyone would compliment her outfits. So I’d go out and shop and buy almost the exact same thing, and I’d get made fun of the very next day. I tried dresses and high heels, chokers, and belly shirts, and all the latest trends from J. Silver in the mall (which was totally a “club” store!). I tried everything. And I’d sit in class thinking about my outfit before ever paying attention to the teacher. And sometimes, by first period, I’d already have terrible regrets about my choice, and I’d obsess all morning about how I could possibly go home home and change.
But it didn’t matter what I tried because I didn’t like myself, no matter what I wore or what I ate, or what I looked like, or whether anyone said anything or not. The feeling of worthlessness and hopelessness that came as a result of everything I was battling all gathered into some seriously depressed days and moments. This is when I would drink my dad’s beer before school in the morning, or cut my wrists, or brush my skin until it broke and bled, or cry myself to sleep and pray I never woke up. I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again, I just could never understand… “Why me?”
I liked to think that I did a good job hiding it, but looking back, damn, I would have known! My grades started to drop, I grew detached and quieter than ever, and the nurse saw me crying in her office on a weekly, recurring basis. I did, however, have one teacher that asked me one day, “Ashley… is everything okay?” Of course I said, “Yeah, everything’s fine…” but to this date, I’ll never forget that he asked. This, is all it really takes. A few more of those and I might have eventually just collapsed into someone’s arms.
Reading this, it’s not unexpected to wonder how I got past all this, what helped me to stop cutting and self-harming, and continue on through high school. The answer is this: my best friend. My best friend remains my best friend to this day, and I truly believe from the bottom of my heart that she is what saved me. Together, we would laugh and have fun and I could forget all my pain. We’d do things outside of our small little town, like the weekly poetry night we’d go to at a local café, and we’d eventually make some non-school friends, and she’d eventually encourage me to join chorus and audition for drama club. She always told me, “Ashley, you’re amazing!,” and “If anyone can get through this, it’s you!” And eventually, with her help, I’d learn to believe this too.
I won’t and don’t want to write all of the sad and gory details about high school. I think what I’ve said implies enough. Next week, I want to talk about my best friend, and the role of a friend to someone who is in need. I hope, if anything, this post begs you to think more about the many issues that are affecting teens – perhaps the teens in your life, perhaps their friends.
Depression, eating disorders, self-esteem, self-harm, underage drinking, substance abuse, sexual assault, dating violence… These issues are incredibly common for young adults. And if my story is any indication, there’s a good chance you won’t be met by a hurt teen with open arms asking for help. According to research, most won’t tell anyone, sometimes not even a friend. Would you notice the warning signs? Would you know what to look for? Would you be that one person that asks, “Are you okay?” And would you know how to offer help?
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.