That child, this woman

TW* childhood bullying + brief mentions of ED and SA

Ironically, just the day before a pretty awful awkwardness bullying trigger got me, I shared these photos for once with some affection, fun-loving humor, and even pride for that awkward, chubby, round-faced buck-teethed kid. It was the video footage of her that got me diagnosed autistic when at first they weren't sure if they believed me and were trying to stick me with all these other mental health disorders (that I am not at the core.) I buried her for so long, I was ashamed of her, but recently I have actually been enjoying rising above sh*tty chronic illness symptoms and pain, and expressing being the *adult of course* version of her as a niche. I have also been gearing up to do outfits on insta and TipSnaps (if they ever work properly.) I am still that girl…all grown up of course.

That poor child deserved better than to be spoken to worse than a dog, mocked with the "oooook" response all the time, and spoken to as though she was stupid and a freak, laughed at and imitated/mocked by kids sticking their teeth out over their lips and making a goofy nasal voice, calling me by my birth name (Natalie) in such a tone that it made me want to change my name and never hear it again (ie "Oh great! I have to be project partners with Naaaah-talie" or "fatty natty fatty natty!") It was to the point where by the age of 12 I was developing disordered eating that I would struggle with for the rest of my life (which would contribute to triggering health problems) until recently as I have let it go, embraced balanced enjoyable eating, being a foodie and my naturally petite but very curvy and a bit thicker figure. It was to the point that I bleached my teeth and put cheap bonding on the gaps and snaggles as soon as I could afford to, only damaging them further and losing several of them altogether.

This child was not given the respect she deserved and was repeatedly shamed, laughed at, mocked, and degraded for being herself. She even had her desk dumped by a teacher and was forced to clean it all up in front of the whole class; It was too crowded and disorganized and that particular 4th-grade teacher thought this was the way to humiliate me into keeping my desk cleaner. All she did was irritate the other kids who were left to wait and lose time on their lunch break, and bully target me worse forever more because of it, even earning yet another derogatory nickname "mess desk."

One day I glued pennies to the bottom of my shoes so that they could be like Shirley Temples’ tap shoes, who I was a big fan of (eventually I’d get real tap shoes and take tap dance though.) I would gradually acquire all her movies, because in the mid '90s 20th century Fox brought out a colorized version of her movies every month. I would do chores so I could get it every month a new one was released… and I would massively look forward to it. I even managed to call the 20th century Fox cutting room; They were shocked that some kid got their number! I demanded (sweetly that is) the entire list of what was going to be released in monthly order. I also eventually got a real antique Shirley Temple doll for Christmas. When I received it I screamed when opening the box and made my adult big sister (who was visiting with her partner and kid) jump about a foot in the air due to the startle and yell ‘Oh, come on, Natalie!’ (I still chuckle about that.) In general I was a big doll making/doll collecting nerd.

Alas, the Shirley Temple thing was another thing that made me a laughing stock and called Penny shoes and Shirley fimple etc. It was sad because I actually did end up taking tap dance classes and was so good at it I was offered my own tap solo show at the FolkFest - but I turned it down due to lack of self confidence and fear of looking ‘fat’ in my body suit, and shortly after that I quit tap dance… though to this day I keep tap shoes in my closet and once and awhile pull them out and gently tap dance a little just for fun. I can still pull off a very good shuffle!

As much as I was a girly girl like that, I was also a bit of a tomboy. I had a mullet even back then too haha. I loved to wear boots especially with my cut off jean shorts or overalls and with my messy mullet pigtails or rat-tail braids. I loved to turn over rocks to look for bugs (but I would never hurt any of them.) I would rescue spiders. I made obstacle courses for my rodents and little movies and tape recordings. I LOVED and collected Pogs and milk bottle caps like mad. I loved to sneak scary movies/tv and ‘ghost hunt’ with my best friends Andie (also a tomboy) Mimi, Trefor and Adam (we were the nerd group called the ‘five fives’ because we were the five grade fives in a split ⅚ class because we were more advanced academically so we did some grade 6 work/projects. However, my four ‘five five’ friends could not protect me from, well, the rest of everybody other than to try and whisk me away onto our ‘spot’ on the top field before the picking on me would start.

I have a phobia of balloons and them popping for good reason. For one, I hate the sound and the startle, and my bullies knew that. So one day two boys who were my main tormentors, Ben Caspersen and Alex Wild, pinned me up against the wall and popped a balloon right in my face after shouting "this is what you look like and this is what you need to do about it!" At which point I screamed, covered my ears, burst into tears and bolted away off the school grounds into the forest and went to my favorite spot under a tree, curled up there and cried for hours (while everyone was driving around looking for me including Andie and her parents and my parents even called the cops.)

I was also regularly told to get a toothbrush even though I definitely had one and used it… that of course led me to the perpetual bleaching and cheap, damaging bonding work not to mention major issues that’d only cost more money, later. I was also accused of going number two in my pants when a kindergartner had an accident. Everybody blamed it on me and followed me in a massive mob shouting about it until my face was red and soaked with tears and running mucous and I was screaming “It was NOT me, and I would NOT do that, okay????” and trembling.

The way the kids treated me made my grade 3 teacher Mrs Wood cry and write a letter to me begging me to understand that people target me because I'm extremely unique and precocious and that I'm not dumb at all. I'm the smartest child she's ever known and if I don’t let the taunting get to me maybe one day I’ll do something grand. One day in the spring of 1994 she sent me to go get something at the office for her and I came back early and overheard her reaming out the entire class with an emotional tone in her voice saying something like “you kids need to stop being so mean to that girl. She hasn’t done anything to you! Just because she's different you don’t even give her a chance. She's not stupid. She's just different. You kids need to think about that and understand.. And if you don’t start doing that I’m going to give you detentions and speak to your parents!”

After she did that the grade 3 year definitely got better, but it didn't stop entirely and the scars remained and started turning me into a more downtrodden, cynical girl which would eventually lead to rebellion, anger, drugs and alcohol, fishnets, rip jeans, lots of black eyeliner, and unsafe calorie restricting. I saw Mrs. Wood in 2011 when I moved back home from Vancouver after my son had been diagnosed autistic and I myself was going through the diagnostic process, and I shared that with her. She got emotional and told me that it made a lot of sense, and if only she’d known about girls and autism back then, and she apologized for not being able to do better at recognizing that and stopping the bullying, but she tried (in fairness to her she did mention having me assessed for ‘something’ to my mother… but my mother is, well, narcy and bpd so she shirked at that and denied it.)

After years of torment I came to hate that child that I was. I hurt myself in all kinds of ways trying to be more acceptable, prettier and thinner… but I could never quite hack it entirely… So I clung on to the edgy and cool schtick, transforming the overt awkwardness into a tough and bold on the surface social performance that was more desirable and endearing. I cracked jokes and was sarcastic a lot. I protected myself with rebelliousness, dark lipstick, leather jackets, boots, cigarettes, coffee, and occasionally sneaking booze in my diet sprite. But predators could still sense that I had a naivete about me and messed with me frequently, even hurting and harming me via SA, to the point where when I was 19 I was exploited for nearly a year til I narrowly escaped from that and married my husband.

I had trouble navigating and at some point wound up in a full-blown identity crisis that I barely survived but pulled through to become stronger after. I started going to the gym and eating the diabetic diet, getting in shape and becoming the most well I ever had been physically, till the stress of young motherhood with income limits weighed on me and then I started getting sick. When I got sick I didn't have as much energy to perform, and then my child was showing strong signs of autism, and I was finally hit with a massive epiphany. I googled traits of females with asperger syndrome (as it was called at the time) and when I read them the hair on the back of my neck stood up and I nearly fell out of my chair. It WAS me... And I wouldn't stop until I got the validation that I needed for the closure that I needed. Then, I openly self identified, blogged, got involved with the community. Sadly the medical system treated me poorly for that and are only now starting to realize that that’s not ok and is discrimination, and that they’d better learn better and do better.

I haven't looked back since. It was only the other day when my doing something so personal was rejected so vehemently as apparently "the most cringey ever seen." That was tough. It took me right back to the feelings of humiliation and degradation that I felt at Torquay elementary (torture-k elementary if you ask me.) I've been struggling with it ever since. No matter what people said to me, the question remained what would motivate someone to say something like that about my performance. All that I can say to cope with it is exaggeration, projection, different expectations and lashing out cruelly was what that was.. because that opinion is not shared by others, especially those who enjoyed it and found it to be cute, creative, endearingly quirky and unique, and genuinely attractive albeit different content.

I've had my meltdown and subsequent medical scare. It was like running to the forest and disappearing for hours putting myself at risk because I was alone and scaring everybody, all over again, but maybe worse. I should know better than that today. I have to get up and dust off and cut myself some slack but be nicer to myself by making choices that don't risk my health and safety, by facing facts that I may be targeted and criticized harshly and it’s more to do with the source then it is with me.

Even though I have a health condition that I'm obligated to manage, it's clear that when I care about myself and perhaps even express self love and concern, I manage it much better…and when I'm down on myself, I can’t do that so well. Shame won't help me out of this. It will perpetuate it and keep me in it.

As a bucket list thing, I need to embrace myself as me as I face my last shot at a fight for a decent and impactful life. It's the only authentic way to do it and karma and energy will be on my side because of it. I need to make it clearer that I'm autistic, I am naturally weird and nerdy, I learn differently, and that's never going to change, so deal with it or go away. Watch me and listen to me if you like what I have to offer, and respectfully go away without needing to be cruel, if you don't.

However, as much as I can suggest this, I have to be prepared for the fact that there will indeed be bullies and attackers. Unfortunately, because I am unique and weird, paired with the way I look, I attract this big time…I am indeed a potential target because I am attractive looking but I act very differently to the more "twinkie-ish" girl that society overall tens to expect from me...but I am no longer going to try and be more like that fake person whom I am actually not, and deny who I truly am, in an attempt to play it safe.

I have to expect possible harsh criticism and attacking, and take the risk.. and just block, report and not take it in if and when it happens. If I don't, I will never be able to do what I want to do in my heart and my life will never be fulfilled. I don't want that. I must accept the risk and focus on those who like me and love me, or who are like me themselves perhaps… those who understand me, or who want to and are respectfully interested and intrigued; those who want to respectfully observe me and learn from me. There WILL be people who, for one reason or another inside of them, feel the need to try and lash out on me because of some projection-based issue within themselves that I riled up in them. Too bad for them. I still have to be me and do that child justice.

That child was damaged and made sick, sadly at least halfway due to self-harm hailed from emotional and psychological distress, amid unfortunate genetics (when it comes to internal health.) That only then brought even further misfortune in life… til I finally stood up for myself in 2012 and insisted on my autism diagnosis, and then again in 2014 with the EDS diagnosis. However, by then, the misfortune train was well underway due to the rough and fractured foundation. Though I have managed to rise above things a lot, and achieve things I didn't think would be possible, I am ultimately struggling and suffering way more than I should be and not getting what I need out of life.

Though it does feel satisfying to have run into Ben Caspersen on a couple occasions when dressed up pretty hot and be able to snub him and give him a wicked glare that has him looking like his dicks' shrinking (cause he knows exactly who I am!) I'd like to actually heal and find peace .

The way to heal my soul is to go back to the beginning, when I was happy to be me and unaware of any problem with it…when I was a creative, wild and shameless dreamer and a somewhat bossy, though also sweet and kind and nurturing, lil Queen Bee….because there isn't any core problem with it. Any problem that developed was directly as a result of hurt, and damage via abuse from people's reactions to me being me and being different. I am Scarlit-Rose and I am an eccentric, passionate Dreamer Queen.

I want more out of life than fate has allowed me thus far and the answer as to why is unfortunately that I have allowed those who target me for being different to hurt me - over and over. I have to close my eyes, and focus, and push away the gremlins, block out the jeers and embrace the true passion in my soul... Regardless if that threatens insecure, overly critical and/or hateful people who can only see acceptability in when you ‘go with the grain’ and anything foreign to that as weird, stupid, gross, embarrassing, cringe or whatever. Too bad for you. Don't like me? Too bad. Bye

I mean, the other day I smiled and someone (an acquaintance of a friend whom I am not too fond of anyway, because they’re a shallow and judgemental person) well she said ‘Ugh - weird .. you should really take that weird gold off your teeth and just, um like, get white ones” I just looked at her and said “No way..I love it. I think it’s really cool and different… so thanks but no.. I don’t want to take them off” and I smiled and flashed ‘em again (my gold is work on my upper molars, not my very front teeth, mind you!) Can I make this kind of attitude a common practice in my life? I better.

That child is now this woman.