A Child's Innocence and Future

Picture found at https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/52/0b/50/520b5031f0c1e6d35a801ddcdbccaaa3.jpg
A picture that perfectly describes what I am going through.

Music class, Florence Mattison International Elementary School. Romel and his mean, nasty words. These things are, and probably forever will be, forever burned in my brain. Everyone has different things, events, or circumstances that will end up changing their lives forever, even if they don’t know it yet. Romel’s cruel words may have only been merely a funny teasing joke to him, but to me, they were a knife stab that led me down a path of misery that is still continuing to this day. Many subsequent mental illnesses – social and general anxiety, depression, and a possibly life endangering eating disorder – may have come out of this joke, but this cruel joke actually made me a stronger person that I probably could have ever been if it had not been uttered on that day in Miss Martin’s music class in fourth grade. You never forget the name of the first person to bully you and how it makes you feel. Even if it doesn’t seem so bad, there are things inside you always changing, forever altered by the small sequence of events.

When looking through commercials on television, there is always a large chance we will happen to come across a commercial or two about The March of Dimes, the United States’ charity for premature babies and children. These types of commercials are always really special to me, as I was just about as premature as a baby can be and still survive – or at least this was the case back in the early 1990s. When my mother was 38 years old, she went to the doctor to have a partial hysterectomy. What she didn’t know was that I was already growing inside her. When they opened her up, they quickly discovered a baby developing in there. The doctors had neglected to wait for the pregnancy test to finish. As a result of this mistake, my mother ended up bleeding for the rest of her pregnancy, which only lasted about six months more. When I was 25 weeks into development, her water broke, and even though there was nothing in there for me to float around in, they sent my mother home, without delivering me. This caused her to become toxic, and get an incredibly high fever even while laying on a bed of ice. Later, on April 9, 1993, my mother was the sickest she had probably ever been, and my father had gone to run an errand, not expecting me to be born while he was gone. At 1:20 PM, I was born, and because of the intense trauma my mother and I both went through, I ended up with third- and fourth-degree bleeds on either side of my brain, leading to my disabilities and cerebral palsy that would eventually lead to a near lifetime of bullying because of it.

Flash forward to my second time around of being in fourth grade. I had moved three times in the span of third grade, each to a different school. Whenever I would start a new school in the middle of that year, my teachers would always expect me to be caught up with the rest of my class, almost immediately. Because of this, for fourth grade, my mother decided to try and homeschool me. The next year though, she decided I needed to be back in public school, and repeat fourth grade in public school, so that I could gain the necessary social skills she thought I needed for upcoming years. One day, in music class, I was sitting in the front row, learning the topic for the week, as we only had the elective class once a week or so. Suddenly, behind me, a boy named Romel decided to whisper to a friend next to him that no one should touch me because I was disgusting. As far as I know, this is one of the first time anyone said anything mean about me, but it could have been much earlier and I just had not noticed before. This would eventually lead to me nearly quitting school twice in my senior year. I ended up persevering and finishing anyway, despite the immense social and general anxiety the bully caused me.

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Hermione Granger, shaking her head in response to the torment the kids in my school put me through.

From as far back as I can remember, I have always had a little voice in my head warning me to be careful about gaining weight, because if I did, I would explode, become fat, and everyone would have even more reasons to make fun of me and hate me. When I was growing up, my mother would always tell me to only eat when I’m hungry, so some days I would eat almost nothing, and other days I would spend the entire day doing nothing but eating. I only came to realize a few years ago that this was a serious eating disorder type behavior, even if it was not intentional at all. Since I was so young and already exhibiting these behaviors and thoughts, there is a high chance genetics played a role in it as well. However, I am also fairly certain that the bullying and mental abuse from my brother’s rages and my parents treating me like a little kid because of my disabilities is probably what ended up flipping the switch to activate the eating disorder in me. For most of my childhood, my brother was into drugs most of my life he would go into manic rages, and become very violent. I would come to find out later that the reason my ex-sister-in-law ended up divorcing my brother because of these rages coming out as physical abuse to her and their children. After witnessing this on and off for most of my life, as well as the bullying I went through, I also, along with my eating disorder, developed PTSD that I stiff suffer from off and on today. After suffering through these mental illnesses as well as my physical disabilities, I now have a lot of trouble telling if people really like being around me and love me, or if they are only pretending to enjoy my company because they feel sorry for me because of my issues.

Being born in the way that I was caused me nothing but trouble, but it also caused me to gain more strength than I ever would have been able to without going through these experiences. Being premature gave me a handful of disabilities that gave people an excuse to tease me for anything they can think of, as people like to do often. The bullying led me into a life of social exile and solitude, and caused me even more to develop the eating disorder that in some ways I may have already been genetically disposed to develop. The chances for me of living when I was born so early wa very small, but I made it through anyway and thrived more than the doctors ever thought I would. The bullying from my childhood had a chance to not affect me at all, and even though it did, I came out stronger than I ever could have been. Going through the mental health issues I did could have been a lot easier, but the difficulties made me stronger, too. Everyone goes through troubles in their lives, but not everyone makes it out of the troubles stronger and better people. Through all of my troubles, I became the best person I probably ever could be, and it helped me become the person I am today.


Emma Watson, saying exactly how I feel. Sometimes I feel weak and powerless, but sometimes I feel powerful and strong.
Image found at http://www.cosmopolitan.co.uk/entertainment/news/a34916/emma-watson-quotes/

Even when you don't know it, strong bonds are forming.

A few days ago I came home from school to see my cat laying in my Daddy's lap on our couch, being very quiet. For most cats, that doesn't seem like a big deal. But with my cat, if he even steps in the house quiet, you need to take advantage of it. Because he HATES our house. I mean, he'll lay on the porch and all that, but won't step foot in our house willingly. So, when I saw that I was concerned. Turns out, he had been hurt. We don't know how, but he was just acting funny. So we kept him in the house from that day until this morning. Why until this morning? Because that's when he passed away. Yeah, unfortunately, he was very very sick. He wouldn't eat or drink anything, and all he would do was lay around the house. Even last night I was worried he had died because he was on my floor being all still. But he was still alive. Then after I gave him a hug and he meowed for me to put him down, he walked away and looked like he could barely walk. So this morning, my Mommy called me to her room ad told me he passed away, and it broke my heart to just see him lying on the little mat in her room, all still. I went into my room and immediately cried. I miss my kitty. RIP buddy :'(

Identities or for hopeless people.

Your cells replace themselvesevery seven years. How do you feel about losing your identiy that often?

Well, people change as quick as lightning, so seven years is a longtime compared to the second it takes for thunder and lightning to shake the world with its presense. And as far as losing my identity so often, I don't really mind. I often have self-consciousness issues, so really, I'd rather be someone else. They say your birthday explains who you are., and I believe that. If I hadn't been born at twenty-five weeks old, three months early, I believe whole-heartedly that I would definately not be the same person I am today. Heck, even my name would be different. Because of my rough start, I have multiple physical/mental disablities, and even though it really sucks, the resulting teasing has made me so much stronger. So as far as losing my identity every seven years, it doesn't bother me. But I like who I am, and I'd never change me.

Bentley_Jones, Twitter sighting

Tell me it doesn't make several people's day when "celebrities" (even those from other countries, but that you like) reply to you on Twitter? I realize several people don't like Twitter, and I'm one of them. I just use it to read up on what singers I like have to say. Well, today, I was checking my Email, and it told me "@Bentley_Jones replied to you on Twitter." it beyond made me happy. I am in love with his music, though most people in the United States haven't heard of him. Yeah, I understand. He's mainly popular in the UK and Japan, but when I saw that he wrote me a message, I practically fainted. It was beyond the coolest thing ever. When recording artists take the time out of the day to send you even the shortest of messages, it's QUITE a big deal.
Thank you Bentley, you made my day, I love you.

Dear people reading my blog,
This is Bentley jones's music, in case you were curious.
Final Night, such a beautiful song. Click it.
Thank you


Love, Angy

So I'd love to be up high above.

When I was about 12 years old, my grandfather had a heat stroke. He was actually my step grandfather, though I considered him more my biological grandfather than my own. He would play with me every time he would come over, and then he would make my day, just with the simplest things. I still remember a day one summer when he came over to visit. I was swimming in the poor in the yard at my biological grandfather's trailer, and that grandfater had been dead for a few years. We had moved there to be with him while he was getting older and dying.
My grandfather, my Papaw Ledell, came over to me and tossed in the cover for the pool filter, so I could swim over and fetch it. I'd always liked those kinds of games, and he knew that. Tossing the little blue plastic pool acccessory back and forth in the pool was the simplest of games, but I'd give anything to be able to just go back to that day, and never stop playing such a game. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't miss him.
That same year, when I was turned twelve, or was turning, such, I don't remember right now, bouth my Granny (my father's mother Dorothy) and my Papaw Ledell mailed me birthday cards. To this day I still have those cards. They are in a red pocket folder in my room that says "Stephanie. This folder is not to be used for anything othe than club." My niece Stephanie and I made a club when we were little, sometime around that same year. I don't know where my folder for that club is, but I used ers because she is my favorite person in the world. One day, when my mother wa cleaning my room, she nearly threw away an old card, and that made me think about the cards my grandparents had seen my all those years ago. So, the first thing I did after we finished cleaning my room, I went to the little red Folder, and took out the card he sent me. When I just simply saw the envelope, I burst into tears, and when I opened it up through the blur of my tears, I broke down. I sobbed. *blink blink blink* Excuse me, I'm about to cry just thinking about that. Even the simple memory I mentioned earlier about the pool and now reading the card, it really hurts. I know it's been over six years since his death, but when someone you want nothing more than to die to be with, even if it will hurt so many others leaves you, you never EVER get over that.
I love you Arthur Ledell Scoggins. Forever. *beat beat beat* You;ll always ALWAYS be in my heart.

So three years ago...

So, three years ago, in tenth grade, I was first allowed too go to homecoming. I was so excited. But turns out, i didn't even get to go. I went dress shopping with my nieces, got a really nice dress from JC Penny (still have it, it's in my closet for fancy occasions), and Stephanie did my makeup and all that. So then we (Steph and her friend (Shelby I think) in one car, and my brother drove me) all went down to Ruth Doyle fr the dance, and since I couldn't find my ID, Steph and Shelby were going to go ask if I could just go in, and then they never came back, so turns out, after being so excited, I didn't even get to go. I was pissed. I got all excited, and then my hopes were shattered. that seems to happen to me a lot. So, from this experience and many, I learned a valuable lesson. Never look to forward to anything. You can look forward to it, just not to much, cause you'll be lete down, you know?

An Introduction to my favorite piece. (Not nonfiction.)

Okay, so I know a blog is usually for commenting on how society works and all that jazz, but I just felt like posting the first part of what I have so far of a story I've been writing for a few years. Any excuse to get a bigger audience, right?
Well, hit the little button that says "October 2011" if it's not already open, and hit "Just a Dream." and enjot the first enstallment. I'll be adding to it every once in a while when I get to decent stopping places to post (it's a short story I've been working on for a while). Well, what are you waiting for? Go read!