I remember when I was younger around 11 or 12. I was confident. I would always, always wear these button up shirts and tie them at my waist and my little kid tummy would be showing. (Because Oklahoma summers are hot) I remember wearing tube tops with my best friend not caring that I had no bra or no support. When I was younger I truly didn’t care what people thought about me.
Me when I was 12/13 years old.
Then as I got older I realized that the people that were laughing and snickering were laughing at me. So I hid, I dyed my hair black and wore unattractive clothing hoping that people would just see right through me. So that people wouldn’t notice me and wouldn’t you know it worked. It worked too well. It worked so well that what I was left with after years of hiding was no confidence and hate for my own self.
A rare photo of me smiling when I was 17.
Among other things I was being mentally, emotionally, and physically abused at home. The people that did talk to me would tell me, “wow April you are the happiest person I know.” Little did they know that being at school made me happy. Even if only a few people liked me. I know that lots of people look back on high school and have no fond memories, but for me, it’s the only thing that kept me alive when I was a teenager.
As the years went by my confidence grew, not to extreme proportions, but it grew enough that I was more willing to be myself around people. I have come so far and honestly never thought I would even be alive at 29 almost 30 years old. Everyday I still struggle with my ptsd, anxiety and depression, but I’m still here. I’m still alive and have so much more to live for. Thank you to everyone in my life that is still here. Because of you I pushed forward, because of you, I didn’t give up and most of all a very special thank you to my husband and my kids. Some days they see the worst and still love me damaged and all.
My family means the world to me. (They are blurred by choice.)