“A Hundred Million Bottles Washed Up On The Shore…”
Maybe I’m not so different after all.
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“Walked out this morning, I don’t believe what I saw
Hundred billion bottles washed up on the shore
Seems I’m not alone at being alone
Hundred billion castaways, looking for a home.” — The Police
It’s no secret that I hated my hometown with a passion. It was one of the things that caused me enough trauma to turn into the glued-together mess than I’ve been most of my adult life.
For those not in the know, I grew up in a hyper-conservative all-white town in New Jersey. This was a town that not only encouraged conformity, but would find ways to “other” you even when you did nothing wrong.
Things that could get you excluded included:
Wearing black.
Having non-white friends from “the bad school” the next town over.
Not wearing the right clothing brands in the right color.
Not wearing your hair the right way.
Being in the wrong religion.
Being non-white, unless you were filthy rich and could pass for white.
Listening to rap music or heavy metal.
Being a fresh-off-the-boat immigrant, even if you’re from Europe, if you’re not British or Italian.
Not having enough money.
I’ve written about this town before and some of the things I grew up around. You might recognize stories like this.
The Ugly, Subtle Racism Of Growing Up In An All-White Town
And yet most of us thought this was all normal.medium.com
Or stories about how my best friend was a cult member who was also excluded by the mainstream folks of this town.
Mom’s Tales Of Commie Doublespeak Might Become Texas’s Future
Or, how my mom’s tales of life under communist rule are becoming relevant in Texas.aninjusticemag.com
I’ve written about this before, but the exclusion was particularly rough on me.
I’m not going to lie. I developed really bad mood swings due to an undiagnosed hormone disorder, but even when those were cured, I was left with a severe abandonment wound. I was extremely depressed and eventually broke.
The school found my suicide note in 6th grade. I was not expelled, but “asked to leave” with the support of the school behind me. I was put in private school and it honestly saved my life.
When I left the school system, I made a point of leaving everything and everyone about it behind. I ran off as soon as I could, which caused the chain of events that led me to where I am now.
Recently, mom shared a room with a girl who just got a boyfriend — and that’s where this saga starts.
The girl is a family friend’s daughter, who we will call Tatiana*. Tati was elated to tell us she got a new boyfriend. Her old boyfriend? Oh, it was one of my middle school bullies. We’ll call him Mike*.
Oh, that did not go over well with me.
There’s an ongoing joke that the “T” in my last name stands for “TEMPER.” I lived up to it. As soon as I heard about Mike’s relationship with Tatiana, I blew my stack.
My mom quietly watched as I paced around the house, saying every single slur I could have come up with, inventing new terms that were both powerful and instantly forgotten as soon as they left my lips.
She quietly sipped coffee and watched the fireworks known as my rage for about half an hour of non-stop screeching before she said anything.
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