Dear Anita,

“good to read your progress. You describe everything so well! Like I wrote before: you got what it takes!” Thank you. I believe sometimes I am much too detailed with myself about my thoughts, and with others. Some people would say I am too mature or philosophical for my age.

“And since I already went through excellent therapy that helped me so much, I will be glad to share what he taught me with you.” Thank you. This means a lot. Especially considering that it would be hard to get good help. I live in a state that is known for not having good mental health services or help.

“You noticed when you lost focus on the first two, you didn’t (my understanding) beat yourself up for losing focus/ attention (very important) and you returned to sights and sounds.” You are correct. I did not criticize myself or get angry or upset about getting lost in my thoughts. I just thought to myself, “Ahh, I’m getting sidetracked. Let me focus on something I see or hear.” Then I’d try to continue with my observations.

“Of course, not eternal calm: a thing to remember. It is a matter of time and never is there a “happily ever after/ always calm kind of existence. Good job!” Thank you, this helps. I was worried I wasn’t really doing what I needed to.

“As to the first part of your post, i would like to write about it when I am back to the computer.” Great, do so. I really value you asking for insight. I consider you to be a very observant and great person and I know that you can probably understand things about myself that I cannot analyze properly because I might see it differently.

Well… I have about 4 memories about my biological father aside from the day he left us. They are basically the only things I remember about him. I remember us moving in with my grandma when we first moved into the state after traveling more than 500 miles. I cannot recall anything about that initial time other than this particular day they had gone out and when they came back they had bought us a snow globe from the disney store. I don’t remember him much in my memory, just that he was around. Another faint memory is of him sitting on our blue recliner watching tv, and another is of him hosting a party for his friends, like he did, all the time, I recall. One particular day he had some of his friends over. My mother was serving them coffee and my younger sister was being careless and running all over. It so happens that she bumped into my mother and my mother accidentally spilled the coffee on her. It fell onto her stomach and burned her. One of my father’s friends was a very nice man (about 4 years later, he would become my step dad) and he left our apartment, went to buy some ointments, returned, gave them to my mother and told her what to do with them to help my sister. I don’t recall my father doing anything, as though he wasn’t even there. There are two other things I remember about my father. He once struck me with a belt. I don’t recall what I did, but I remember being very angry afterwards, thinking “how dare he hit me”. Another time, I remember being mad at him for not letting me paint my nails. Once again I was angry. I considered him oppressive, and even at that age (7 or younger), I remember thinking of him as controlling. All of my memories of him involve me feeling alone, like there was no connections. I feel this darkness in all of my memories of him. So no, he did not bully me, he just wasn’t involved.

I was actually bullied in the 6th and 8th grade by different girls. In 6th grade I was a tomboy. I wore loose clothing and didn’t care much about my appearance. 6th grade was at a different school than the elementary school I had gone to. It was a much bigger school with a lot more diversity. I only had one friend from elementary that I really spoke to and naturally we met other girls in 6th grade. I am hispanic but I had never been around other hispanics much. It was strange to me and I quickly realized how much I didn’t fit in. It was also very clear to the other girls my friend talked to. They teased me, called me a lesbian, spread rumors about me, excluded me, talked about me, asked rude questions, they asked why I dressed like that, why I didn’t have a boyfriend etc. It wasn’t long before the other girls got wind of the rumors and started talking about me as well. They all bought lunches, and I brought mine, which was enough to make them bully me even more. I liked the color blue, they liked red. Another reason for them to not like me. It was too much for me to handle at that age. I hated going to school. I constantly felt judged and talked about. I would cry in the restroom and in my room at home when I was alone. I once convinced my mother to let me miss a week of school, feigning sickness just so I would be away from it all. I had enough of it and started molding myself so I could fit in. Things got better after that but I became self conscious. I got a boyfriend just to prove myself to them and started wearing red, and jewelry and lip gloss, etc. I was glad when the girls who had teased me weren’t going to the same school for 7th grade.

I don’t recall much about 7th grade. It was all right I suppose. In 8th grade however, I had another encounter with bullies. This particular girl thought it was funny to laugh at me in gym class because I didn’t know how to throw a basketball. I got angry and decided I wasn’t going to let her talk about me that way. I went up to her and we got in a physical fight. I was hoping that would be the end of it, I had already had enough of bullies, but it was just the beginning. She was a year younger than me and would always try to intimidate me and one of my other friends. She would bump into us in the hallway and physically push us and say mean things. It would happen almost everyday. I was terrified. So terrified that me and my other friend would always email each other so we could arrive together at school. I was so scared when this bully’s older sister confronted me. I was so scared that I pushed all of the blame on my friend (I feel so bad for doing this to my friend but I was very scared after learning that this bully was into boxing). The older sister asked me why I had gotten in a fight with her sister and I said to her, “I did it because she said mean things about me and my friend, I was just trying to defend myself, it was my friend who started it all with your sister” (Which was true but I felt bad for turning my back on my friend). My bully’s sister was nice and said she’d get her sister and friends too lay off of me, and it worked. They then only bothered my friend. I was glad, but I still felt scared. Near the end of the year the returned to calling me names. I was glad when we ended up not going to the same high school. I was terrified of these girls, there were about 5 of them, and they had all taken turns bullying me, pushing me, calling me names. I remember being not just scared, but terrified. SO MUCH so that when I saw this girl, at my college during my first semester for a small one hour class, I hid behind my computer and basically sped out of the classroom once it was over. When I saw her in the hall I hid my face and tried to be as fast as possible. I felt nothing but anxiety and fear. In middle school I recall not feeling like I confide in any of the teachers to help.