Not Fitting In Was The Best Thing That Almost Killed Me

TW: Suicidal ideation, bullying, mental health hospitalization, extreme illness

In middle school, I moved from a poorer city to one of the richest suburbs of Chicago. It was the ultimate culture shock. I went from a school with a large ethnic mix to going through an entire year without being in class with a single person of color. From older siblings' hand-me-downs to Louis Vuitton. Needless to say, I did not fit in. Not even close.

7th grade was ruthless for me. Not only was I the new kid, I contracted mono which took me out for a couple months. Coming into a school at that time is SO weird. Everyone has their group from 6th grade. You're trying to make friends with people who already have their people. They're not going to let some weird, new poor girl be their best friend.

The one group I was able to be a part of was only because I was their personal punching bag. These girls actually didn't like each other but were stuck together because of their life situations. It was the only group I could land and I didn't want to be a loser loner. The girls would talk about each other behind their backs, get angry at me if I didn't back their shit talking, and then go to who they were talking about and tell them that I said those things about them. I think it was some kind of unspoken agreement amongst them that they would talk about each other and then blame me to get rid of their guilty conscience.

In the final months of 8th grade, they took it too far and began going back and forth between shunning me and wanting me around. I was done and when I went into high school, I cut my hair and vowed to never talk to them again. I never did. I was back at square one. No friends and no sense of belonging.

I didn't do well in school. The teachers would tell me that I wouldn't get anywhere in life with how I was performing. I had the deep urge to not be where I was. The town was a prison. I hated it so much that it slowly ate away at me. Through Freshman and Sophomore years of high school, I was slowly going down a rabbit hole. I started being disappointed that I woke up. I thought about what my last letter to everyone would be. I wondered if my dogs would understand why I was gone.

I kept these feelings in for a really long time. Mental health was not taboo in my household, but I had (and still have - but I'm working on it!) a deep need to just deal with things so as not to concern anyone. It wasn't until I became very close to taking action on my thoughts that I got scared and told my mom.

This earned me a partial hospitalization from the end of summer to the beginning of my Junior year. When I attended the "we're going to pretend to care about you" mandatory meeting with school staff, the administration said "what can we do for you?" My response was simply "get me out of here." That's what they did. I began an online class that allowed me to do my Junior and Senior year at the same time. For three periods a day, I sat in the same room with my head down while I worked my ass off.

And, reader, oh BOY did I work my ass off. I worked my ass off like its never been worked before and hasn't been worked since. The level of motivation was INSANE.

But of course, another bump in the road. Right around winter break, I got c. diff. Please pause your reading to search this disease and then come back to me.

Ok, did it? Ya, it was terrible. Whatever you just read, make it around 10x worse. I was laying in the hospital bed for a second time when I had the thought to myself that I really was going to die. I was sure of it. And I was scared. This was the moment I realized I didn't really want to die. So, I better start working toward the life I wanted.

While still sick, I did assignment after assignment. I did so much, I got done with those two years two weeks before graduation. I really wanted to know I was done and I could leave. I graduated from high school with a 2.75 GPA, but I walked across that stage as if I was Valedictorian.

Everything is a lesson. So, what did this teach me?

I learned to not be afraid about fitting in. At the end of the day, you have to live with yourself. If someone doesn't like you, that's not your problem. You do not exist to appease others.

It also had the exact opposite effect on me than it does on most people. I actually became a big extrovert. I'm the person you hate who starts a conversation with you in the grocery checkout line about a snack I saw in your cart. I'm a MENACE. After going through dealing with terrible people who I was forced to be around all the time, I have a major "fuck it, we ball" mentality on talking to people. Not gonna be nice? Don't want to talk? Ok, oh well, I will probably never meet you again anyways! Who cares!

And on the flip side, you meet really cool people that way! I've randomly met and been in contact with awesome people because I started a conversation or reached out again to them. I don't like shutting down opportunities for connection. Community is all we have.

I can handle adversity, I get motivated by being told "no," and I love a challenge. That's all because of what I faced. While I know it wasn't fair to go through all of those things (and I do grieve the normal, happy teenage years I never got), I can hold space for the fact that they did make me who I am today.

After graduation, I still lived across the street from my high school for a few months before we moved. Graduation was a week before the official end of the school year, so kids were still in class. The Monday after, I loaded my dogs up in the car and we went to get coffee. As I drove back home, kids were outside for gym. I cried seeing them. It was like this huge cloud was gone. It couldn't touch me anymore. I was free and it was because of my hard work. I've never looked back.

(And for the record, in case any of my old, terrible teachers ever find this. I graduated from college with a 3.8 GPA, top 20% in my class, in multiple exclusive honors societies, earned fellowships, and I'm killing it in grad school now so HAHA suck it, losers.)