My name’s Jnina.
My name is Jnina. Kinda ugly name isn’t it? I think so too. I like to be called Nina. I don’t know where I should start. So i’ll confess everything. My name is Jnina, and im 14 this year. I was born in New York. My mom had me at 20, and I was the last child she bore. I have 3 other siblings. Out of the four, I am the only one that didn’t get enough attention. I was a mistake. My own mom didn’t know she was pregnant with me, 10 months after my older sister was born. But here I was, a new born baby. So what’s the problem with that? No one thought I was my Father’s child.  Out of all the kids, I was the ONLY ONE. Because of this, my Mom got ridiculed. (First mistake, Jnina.) I only have one baby  picture. It’s the moment I was born. The next 6 years of my life was not recorded. At the age of six, my Mom packed her bags and we moved to Philly. We lived with her current boyfriend. He had two kids, (boy and a girl.) I enjoyed both of them dearly. I started to notice the boy trying to get closer to me, as time went on. One night, he dragged me into a closet during hide and seek. (I honestly don’t feel like getting into details.) Over the next month, I was sexually assaulted, repeatedly, though not raped. By the age of 8, we moved to Georgia but I never told anyone what his son had done to me. I felt like everything could get better now, but I missed my father. I felt like it had been ages since I saw him. I started school, and made new friends in 4th grade, although 3rd grade I was quite a loner. I loved to be weird. Making my hair into ears like I was a bear. Over the years, I started to notice how ugly I was. No one ever got my name right, I was called buck-toothed-beaver because of my over bite and buck teeth. Always asked why I don’t wax my eye brows. (Eventually I was so mad about it I shaved the end of one eyebrow off.) I honestly didn’t care! I was OKAY with being weird. Eventually, I got made fun of constantly. I was short, short brown fluffy hair, big eyes, buck teeth, big eyebrows and a faint moustache. (Haha, moose-tache.)  When I entered 7th grade, I was fed up with being like this! I wore mascara, hid my eyebrows with bangs, only smiled without showing my teeth, wore sneakers with heels, and dressed normally! Hell, in 7th grade, I even got extentions, because apparently short hair is ugly. I was tired of being the ugly one. I was tired of being the weird one. I was so self concious, every class I would rush to the bathroom to check my self, brush my hair in every class, and if anyone stared at me to long, I would auto-assume they saw something wrong, a mistake, on me. I had acne and a big forehead, so I tried to hide that too. Meanwhile, at home, my mom started to date. First, a guy hopped up on steriods. He’d yell and scream at the littlest things. Next, it was a guy who seemed nice at first, but their relationship ended with him punching a hole through the wall and calling a suicide hotline. (He didn’t die, but he did go to jail for trying to overdose.)  Next, (and probably the worst) was a man named David. I remember meeting him and thinking “He looks like a good-guy. I’m so happy for Mama.” GUESS WHAT SWEETIE! Wrong. David is an abusive son of a *****. (Sorry for the bad words!) He’d constantly fight with my Mom, but she still stayed. He’d even hit her. The thing that set me off to become a psycho around him was when he grabbed me by my collar and broke the only gift (a necklace) my real father ever bought me. Since then, I slept with a knife in between my mattress. I was ready. If he hurt my mother, I’d go to jail protecting my family.  Cops came to our house nonstop, like we welcomed them over for dinner! Going home was a gateway to hell. Everyone screamed. I started to notice that I couldn’t tell apart my feelings. Am I mad? Am I happy? Am I sad? I didn’t know. I started to look for the reason and eventually I was diagnosed with alexthymia. (Basically the inability to express and I guess feel emotions.)  It’s the calmed down version to depression to me actually. I was so lost, I never got mad or sad, and I wasn’t sure what happy was supposed to feel like. I started to date a guy named Jonathan, at the age of 13 while he was 15. I honestly didn’t love him at all, not even a bit. But I dated him anyway. He asked me to sext him. I did. I replied to vulgar texts. I sent a picture of my self in my undergarments. I felt sick and horrible. I started to cut away my life more. In 8th grade, my family and I moved away to another part of Georgia. I hated it, I cried everyday. I missed all of my friends. The good side to it was my Mom broke up with David! My new school was filled with people that judged instantly. I was bullied everyday, and I had two friends. Bullied from the fact i’m not rich, pretty, or a definite race. I used to love band, first chair trombone, until I moved. I was now eleventh chair, my fellow trombone players made fun of me too. (I was the only girl.) I wanted to continue, fooling myself into thinking lifes not that bad yet Jnina, cheer up! My mom was with a wonderful man named Bobby, who cherished us all and we loved him to death. My grandpa died a month after us moving. My mom wasnt the same for a while, and I honestly didn’t care that Grandpa was gone. I was worried for my mom only. I thought she’d go insane. Eventually, the bullying at school got worse and my mom left Bobby for David again. Whenever I was rude to him, my mom got beat. It was my fault again. Everyone I met, one day would say they hate me, that something was MY FAULT. How? How is it my fault? I wanted to scream. But I didnt. You know what I did? Swallowed a hell of alot of painkillers! I (of course) survived. My boyfriend took me to the hospital. The second time, I went to go hang in a closet by a belt around my neck. My friend’s mother knew what i was going to do, she read everything on my phone without my fucking permission. (Sorry.) Anyway, she told my Mom that I was suicidal over a guy. What a complete LIE. They don’t even know! Anyone I tried to tell about my problems didn’t care! They didn’t care at all! Once again, my try at suicide was failed. Things got alittle better piece by piece though. I became third chair in band. I had good grades, and a nice handful of friends. Home wasn’t ideal though. It was filled with screaming and horror. We ended up moving back to my old school though! First day of my old school, a million people tell me they heard a rumor I was gay. I was bullied with that till we left to go to 9th grade. (Im not gay, I don’t have a specific choice on what gender I prefer, I just like people.) Now that i’m in 9th grade, I still feel ugly, stupid and not good enough. My Mom is still with abusive no good David. (Im learning to hide smart aleck remarks towards him.)  I’m also starting to like seeing people in pain, I like them to be hurt. Im a psycho. But i’m slowly working my way through it. I don’t know what I should do next though. Im scared of falling from a cliff that took me forever to reach.
7 comments
Hey jnina ( is that pronounced jay nina?) sorry to hear about your situation. Do you think it would help if you were to talk to your mother about this? I mean a real talk, like driving out to a park or something and discussing all of these things, and trying to tell her how you really feel. Needless to say, an abusive relationship is an awful thing that affects everyone around, and shouldn’t be tolerated.
I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being weird, but of course we live in an extremely judgmental world. The fact is only made more evident in high school. You seem like a very intelligent and sweet person. Try not to let bullies convince you that you’re ugly. And don’t sell yourself short! The way you said you answered “vulgar texts” makes me think you really didn’t want to. Don’t prostitute yourself out to the world for acceptence.
The bad things that have happened to you aren’t your fault. Try to stick around a bit longer, maybe after highschool you’ll be able to talk to your mom more personally about why she enters these abusive relationships.
I’ve tried to talk to her about it before, but it never gets through :T and haha xD It’s pronounced Jnn-i-ah.
I’m not surprised people get it wrong, that is hard.
Yeah, all my teachers and new friends get it wrong, it’s easier and less hectic to go by Nina, I honestly don’t care that my name is unique, it’s to.. problematic.
Jnina, I enjoyed reading your post. You are very smart, and funny too. I admire how you have expressed your personality and dared to be different, even tho’ I also see that it’s caused you distress at times.
You have a lot of spirit Jnina, to have come through all the abuse still fighting. I sense that you’re not beaten yet and think that you could do great things if you just stick around for long enough.
Zoe x
Thank you, that is very encouraging. c:
if you ever need someone to talk to you can email me charliecooley24@yahoo.comi know what its like to be in a chaotic home. youre story broke my heart. but im glad things are getting better. even a little better can be all the difference.