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Chapter 13: Lost Virgin

I struggled to fit in, and I had a variety of different groups of friends I chummed with. I stopped hanging around with this whom had amazing lives, I was jealous. I didn’t have what they did, so I thought. What an illusion life is. None of these groups where any different, it was just you find where you fit in, where you were excepted. That was in high school when I was able to meet a very good group of girls that I spent days with, they seen the crazy side of me, It didn’t take much for me to dance on a table, take a dare or even set a kids hair on fire because he did it to another girl: I showed him!! Burnt hair really do any smell to good in case your wondering. I have a different zest for life and I was able to bring something to a friendship that most people can’t. In all my illnesses and ups and downs one thing never really changed up until September 1 998, I had to survive and it was evident that if I didn’t try I would not make it in this world. I would not be able to enjoy the laughter of children, the ability to feel other people‘s pain or even taking a moment to change someone’s life. It’s hard to describe when you’re so lost but it’s a feeling that never goes away.
In the 1980s and 90s no one understood mental health and they still don’t in my opinion. All my life I’ve watched struggles, and I’ve listened to hurt wrenching stories of pain, sorrow and distress. Starting to ask people what they’ve done about it, finding out my past there is eerie silence at the other end. The ongoing whispering of our humanity in society needs to stop. That has impacted who I am today. This is why I’m here.
I realized quickly having someone to unconditionally love me for me was going to be a challenge . I never wanted anyone to try and change me as this was who I am. But I still was so young and immature that I never understood that I still wasn’t mature enough to think as an adult yet I was living as one.

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The lessons in front of me where is blurry is any foreign language as I was faced to feel my way out of trouble and which brought me character. I never really understood true love and in grade 10 I shouldn’t be looking for love. I’ve come to learn the complexity of high needs of mental health, Unless you really have left it fully through every spectrum you can never understand it.
Drinking parties and drugs were becoming part of my daily life, reckless behaviour seemed effortless, almost normal to me. It is almost as if no one knew what to do or how to handle mental health so much stigma behind what to do or what to say. What did do you do, where do you go?
Being called to the office, and the guidance counsellor was telling me that my mom was in town and she had come to the school. The school got a hold of Children’s Aid Society and they were on the alert, just in case she did something “nuts”.  She didn’t dress like your typical mother as her head was shaved bald with the Edmonton Oilers symbol died in the back of it but she made the paper. Her day of glory, that is for sure. She was staying at one of the local motels again and rumours already have been going through the school about my mom pacing in front of my “old house” my step moms house as my dad sold the place on Elizabeth Street, where I spent 9 years of my life or so with a gun.

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I was shocked to hear that, maybe it was just a rumour?  Much of my memory of that time has been blocked, as I believe that was the time of my life I was in a plague, of bad luck and bad choices. Sick to my stomach, I was angry at the events in my world, trauma was constant.
Hormones never came with a manual, neither did I. Trying to understand your body was never told to me, nor did I ask to date. I cannot recall the story about the birds and the bees,  no idea about sex. Nothing, I knew about parts, and what to do. Since I really never understood the consequences of doing so either. What it was really for? For pleasure? For control? For Love? What I did knew was fantasy exists in my mind, and I liked it:  maybe being in denial  so young, clearly not understanding about right and wrong behaviour having consequences. I sure was about to find out.

pexels-photo-544988.jpegI was picked up one night by older so called friends, barely knowing them I was tagging along. There partying at a house with people whom were five years older. These people were able to get my Vodka that night from the Duty Free store, paying  the turn around duty wasn’t such a big deal at the time. Something about me is I can drink, way more than anyone I knew.  Trust me I could drink, I could drink most men under the table. That is where I played ping-pong solo cup and it just so happened, I continued to lose against the guy I was playing with. Before you know it,  drunk, being taken by the hand to go upstairs. Shit,  all I knew at the time was how to make out on a couch, never mind anything else, as I’ve never made it past second base. As we started to kiss on a cheap air mattress, I remember being very uncomfortable with what was happening and all I could taste was the booze on his breath as he told me to be quiet. I was asking too many questions, he didn’t know Why?  I had said to him, ” I am a virgin.” As he told me to “Fuck Off “ laughing in dismay because he didn’t believe that I was actually a virgin due to my wonderful reputation I was building for myself.  Leading Jack to believe  I was “easy” a “tramp a “quick fuck”  as I dressed the way I did. Like a bright caution sign, there I was sending sex signals too?  I remember feeling awkward with my legs open, as I can feel how horrible it is to go through your first time. I didn’t enjoy it as it pretty much sobered me up. I pulled up my pants after we were rudely watched by 2 others in the hall. I turned my head and kept my mouth shut as it didn’t feel good and I felt dirty. No one would drive me home as everybody was drinking so I walked back to Cornwall Ave.

 

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The next morning I sat with my knees to my chest on the living room love seat as I try to figure out what happened the night before. I was hurting down below and I was bleeding. Something I had never experienced or even knew much about, just from the pornography I enjoyed watching in grade 9 at a house party. I was forced to talk to my foster mom about what happened because I didn’t have anybody to talk to. I could see how sad she was in her eyes as I cried because I felt as though I was a piece of garbage again …. used , not loved and tossed away. My youthfulness seemed long gone, confused than I ever have been. I knew my mom wasn’t crazy and all I wanted to do was give her a hug and let her know that her daughter really needed her. I needed someone to talk to, Someone who would understand me. I can only understand myself most times and explaining it to anyone was becoming absolutely impossible. Maybe I was really showing signs of mental illness as everybody said I was. Yet no one was doing or saying anything about any of it But, Why?

 

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Cannabis Enthusiast : Craft Edible Creator : Recreation and Leisure Professional : Blogger
A Craft Edible Experience

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