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My life in hardaches, breaking, and healing

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Allison Jo

Live in the moment...

Many of us have heard this but we can't truly understand what is meant by it, or at least I cant.

For the majority of my life I take the road that is always traveled, I play it safe. But is that living in the moment? Will I have regrets? Will I continuously be scared to take chances, to think of the what-ifs? 

I'm scared. I graduated college with a degree in elementary education, and I'm scared to fulfill this dream because I have these thoughts coursing through my head. What if I have a panic attack. What if my mood swings happen on a school day and I can't be my bubbly self, what if a student or fellow teacher seeks up on me and I react the wrong way. 

I'm playing it safe by working a shitty job in retail. I hate it most days. The people don't understand personal space, and I get triggered easily but at least I can escape when I need to and I don't need to be a strong leader.

This isn't the life that I want to lead though. I have dreamed and worked so hard to be a teacher. But I just keep stopping myself from living this out, because I'm so afraid of failure, I've already failed to many times.

Taking chances is a way of life and i suck at living this life. I let my panic attacks get the best of me. My self confidence was left in the past and I'm still trying to find it.

What I think is worse is the fact that I can't go to my family because all I get are lectures about how I'm not doing anything right, but they don't understand. I know it's my fault they don't understand. B honor roll student through high school, first generation college graduate, to doing absolutely nothing. In their eyes I'm a failure, how could I break their hearts more to tell them why I'm so broken, to help them understand why I'm not working my dream job. Even then would they understand? Or would they just see me as an attention seaker/excuse maker.

I just want my dreams of my 11 year old self to come true, but I don't know if I'll ever be strong enough to pick up the pieces of my old life and bring it into this one. I want to so bad but I feel like I'm blocking my self from moving forward.

How can I live life if fear just keeps getting in the way?

Allison Jo

Childhood. A word that I've learned on this site was taken away to soon for so many. Innocence that was ruined, and can never be restored.

My story isn't of any big thing, but a realization that I've had over the last couple of years.

I grew up poor. Dirt poor. An exciting month was a dollar menu burger from McDonald's. It was learning to ask for rides to make it to school from neighbors because we couldn't fill our gas tank. It was the free meal at lunch being the only one I would get. Getting hand-me-downs was my idea of new clothes. It was learning that my pet rabbit was actually what I had for supper the night before (gotta do what you gotta do, no judgement please).  It was putting faith in an all knowing being who continually left me feeling even more worthless.

I've learned that it takes more than words to show love.

It takes patients to see truth.

It takes time to figure out what lobe actually means.

I was lead to believe that all of the struggles my family faced were my father's problem, but it wasnt. 

Maybe that's why I've had such a screwed up view on how men are suppose to support and love.

I am not the naive person that I was. My father was a hard worker with a wife who chose not to help take care of the family. She was a stay at home mom who spent her day sitting around the house or helping others in the name of God, but left the people who really needed love and help feeling worthless. To this day she says that God tells her not to get a job, but lives off of state funding??  She can twist things into something completely different. The one true thing she has taught me is selflessness isn't truly being selfless if you're in it to get admeration, you give something of your self because it is the right thing to do, and that you take care of the ones you love and not leave it up to God to do it for you.

Life is not about money, but it is about working together as a team. It's about knowing and admitting failure. It's about celebrating success. It's about laughing and fighting when the time calls for it. Life is unpredictable and messy. Life is in my hands, not some higher being that says I have a choice but has a plan already made out? Life is about me and not a book written by man kind that has been minipulated by time.

I use to believe in God and jesus, and I didn't believe in myself. I was so unhappy being told I was never good enough. I sinned and was not a good enough Christian even though I never missed church, I volunteered, lead music groups taught Sunday school and it was never enough. I was wrong for standing up for lgbt, I was wrong for caring for all peoples. And I finally decided I will believe in me. I will believe that life is shitty and not a miraculous plan. I have the purpose to strive to love everyone, to be accepting and be a good person.

My faith is to believe that I am good enough and to strive to be the best I can be every day.

I don't believe that what has happened to me is part of some plan because that is really messed up. I'm not saying that my life was hard but with things that have happened I don't want to think someone wanted this to happen. So I decide to believe in me and that I can get through anything. I am good enough and I want to love myself. It's a long road but it's freeing to finally put pieces of my life together, to figure out who, what I believe in and who actually made an impact in my life. And to stop blaming my dad, because he is the strongest person in my life.


Allison Jo

Freshman year. Fall 2012, I was starting a new life and a better one because I was in control with no limits. It was the start of the college season and being a shy person, it was a slow start, never really fitting in was also a hinderance. Finally I had a date set up with a guy on my floor and boy was he adorable. But he never showed...I was humiliated, it didn't help that my last relationship ended with me being broken into pieces, but now this??


I've always had an internal struggle of trying to tell myself, fool myself into thinking, that I am worth it. I am beautiful. I am smart. But depression started to take me under it's wing after I desperately fought the battle throughout high school, but now I had no one. No one was there.


I started hanging out with the wrong crowd, drinking, smoking being numb.

You're thinking I'm crazy to do this all because of a guy, but I wasn't making real friends, and all I wanted was to feel something, and men are what could help me feel something even if it's in short bursts. The touch still helps the ache inside dull for a short while.


Well I went to a crazy party one night. In a car full of people I just met. I drank. And drank. And drank some more. I started kissing anyone who would kiss me back, I needed contact, and the drunk side of me tried to get any relief from the roaring in my head.


I set my drink down at some point between smoking and kissing, and then everything goes hazy.


I'd been talked to about never putting down my drink, but I guess I didn't listen well.


I'm in the trees. Leaves crunching under foot. Murmurs in the distance. I'm lead like a child away from prying eyes hardly able to walk.


Next thing I know I'm bent over and someone has pulled down my pants. I feel cool metal on my cheek, and hands roam my skin. I'm unable to do anything, I feel mute, and my body is made of sand. A tear is unleashed and rolls down my cheek. I don't know who he is or what he looks like but I will never forget the noise of those pants hitting leaves. I blackout.


I wake up in my dorm the next day. I don't know how I got there. I don't even remember the night before. Those few memories have come to me over the course of 3 years. Trying to dig up answers because all I know at the time is that I was found disheveled in the parking lot of the frat lands. I was horribly sick, and I floormate took me back.


Somehow the sick son of a bit*h found out where I lived and my roommate gave him my number since I wasn't there. For 3 months he continuously called and texted me. I tried blocking him, but he got around it. I felt so exposed and dirty, and I had no face to blame. Just every white male around me. And so I closed in on myself. One day it all just stopped, and I never heard from him again…



Winter was around the bend and I had peace, I felt like I could move on finally. I couldn't remember enough anyway. So I pushed it in the back of my head. I tried to forget.




I was sitting by myself eating my salad, if you could call it eating, more like knowing I should and not having the appetite.


I was approached by a kind man. I was weary but he was new to the country, so I invited him to sit. He told me about italy, and how it was so different from here. I talked about how I had italian family members, though very distant that still lived over in italy. I was feeling myself. Learning about culture. I even agreed to give him my number so we could hang out sometime.


Innocent, I was so naive…


He calls a few days later to hang out. He suggests his place since he lived off campus. I agreed. I should have never agreed.


He picks me up in a black car, we drive down town. His roommates are nice, with the small wave that they offer. I turn for what I guessed was the living room. I'm fed some excuse that the TV was stolen...Oh little girl what were you thinking!!!! I follow into his room. The world twirls and becomes a haze around me, I start to panic but swollen it down. Because I don't want to be crazy...i should have followed my gut and insisted on being in the open space.



He pulls out his laptop. Lights candles. He doesn't know that I'm not okay with this. It's all too fast I'm not ready. He pulls up a movie gets us drinks, and I'm numb and freezing in my grey zip up. He notices and tries to cuddle. I wiggle out and I'm given a look of disgust. Making me feel like I owe it to him to be held. He goes back to the movie, but still pulls me close to him. I still can't speak.


The movie ends, why did it end. Why can't I speak. Why did I agree to this.


He starts to kiss me and pull up my shirt I say no. He stops but continues to kiss me while I move away from him. He makes me feel like his personal w**re with the look in his eyes. What were you expecting he says. And goes back to kissing. He goes to my pants and unbutton them. I shoot up, and he follows, I say no and I'm on my back again. No control. I say no not tonight. He replies with why not. And lists so many reasons. He's my only ride back. I don't want this. I said no.


I need to get back.


I want my own bed.


I wish it was fast.


I wish I could get the touch of him off me.


I wish a shower actually would clean me.


I wish the first time had been enough.


I wish I was strong enough in my reprieve that no would mean no


I wish I wasn't weak


I wish I wasn't broken


I wish I was worth the effort if flowers and sweet kisses


I wish gentleness wasn't just in the books I read


I wish Christmas vacation hadn't started the next day


I wish he would stop calling



I was right back to where I had been, and I wish I could get my innocence  back.

I wish I could eat. I get told by my mother at dinner that I eat less than a three year old. She doesn't see it. The weight I've lost, means I look healthy and great to people at church. My quiet persona is me growing up. No one sees me. No one reaches out. I'm drowning.



I find a friend and new roommate for next school year, and she listens and helps in her own way. My best friend from high school helps me stop self harming. I'm growing in a way. But I become the w**re that I mind told me I was for the next two years. I messed up many relationships because of it.


Senior year. I meet a romantic. And I thought I had finally found it, peace and love that I yearned for…


I was wrong


Two months in and I had a rough week in life the plan was to come out and visit me. It just happens I needed a friend more so than the romantic partner.


That wasn't my role


Sex was expected


He only came for that reason


Since I wouldn't do it for him...he took care of himself.


Right next to me


On my small bed


I am nothing. I am not worth a breath. I am unloveable. I am only here for one reason. Romance is not in my future. Love is a fairytale that I'll continue to read, but I stopped putting faith in a long time ago.


I ate, I stopped caring, I stopped getting looked at. I stopped looking at myself. I hate my body. But I'd rather hate what I look like rather than being looked at by strangers ever again.


This is my story, only one that explains why I hate myself so thoroughly. I thought being an adult I would have more control, that I could be more than what I faced as a kid. But thinking back, I'd take being a kid without a meal or home over being broken into pieces.

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