A little girl used to saying, “It doesn’t matter.” It doesn’t matter if I speak or not because even if I do you’ll never understand me. It doesn’t matter if there are a million novels, it’s still unhelpful if you can’t read; or what knowledge you may have if you can’t communicate through word or pen.
I didn’t go to elementary school. No, not because of the stereotypical over-protective parents or because I wasn’t intelligent, at least I don’t think that was the reason. As I see it, it was simply because; as my family put it you would have needed to know another language to understand me. I just laughed with them; they never naively realized how these words haunted me. They were the words that always cried out, that I wasn’t good enough; I was an idiot, who couldn’t even speak and who couldn’t read.
And don’t get me wrong, it was true I had been born with a severe speech impediment and phonetic dyslexia and an unruly habit of rebellion, which in this case, left me speaking the ear off anyone and everyone who had the misfortune of being around me. I never was liked because no one wanted to be with someone who babbles; desperately hoping that the more I said the more chance that someone would catch a word and realize what I was trying to convey. I was never that lucky. Let’s face it, not only did this make me painfully annoying, which is of course a sin in those elementary days; it also made me different, which of course calls for the abnormal person to be ostracized.
After I heard those stabbing words long enough, and realized the exclusion, I hit an age where embarrassment started to set in. I learned to say it doesn’t matter; which I learned was easier then jabbering on.To pretend to have nothing to say was easier, in fact, than to stand up for the right to be heard. In my mind it was worth it to pretend to be opinionless, to end the insufferable condescending smiles and the pity that I received every time I opened my mouth. As I grew older I not-so steadily grew better at speaking and writing. Until eventually, instead of those pitying looks; I only received the sheer ‘kindness’ of others, who were kind enough to correct every slight mispronunciation. Whose duty it was to point out that this girl here was still far from usual but with some much needed assistance by a qualified person such as themself, she could manage. I don’t know if anyone else could hear the self esteem booster there. Okay just me, I thought so
.Unfortunately, two other despicable groups presented themselves in time: first, people who felt the absolute need to remind me that although I was understandable now; I was simply impossible to comprehend before I hit puberty. They couldn’t express how relieved they were that I hadn’t only gotten acne but I wouldn’t come to a demise in my preteen or teenage years. I not only held in my outrage at the situation, and the remark that they should have enough manners to keep their ‘compliments’ and ‘concerns’ to themselves. I also, somehow held in the need to hit something, preferably a face or other adequate places, which I would have, of course, done softly.
Additionally aggravating, was a second vile group which was inhabited by dominantly hormonal guys who appeared further on in my adolescence; I deeply do not care to apologize to. For whether they call my impediment cute or sexy, they aren’t going to get anywhere other than me feeling the need to puke, and I don’t feel that was the direction they were heading. Moreover, the mockers were enough to mess with any preteen’s self esteem, especially mine because I’m never going to be good enough in their eyes unless I become them, which is impossible. Cloning has not been invented. The other choice differing from conformity is to feel ugly and deficient all the time which was equally appalling. At any rate, somewhere along the way I stopped caring I taught myself, with some help from ambiguously rotten people, that it was easier to not give a crap.
To value the opinion of people who treat you like you’re inferior or even as if you’re mediocre when in heart they are just self-righteous about how much they bestow upon you is just plain stupid.So I just decided it would be simpler to be polite and civil to all no matter what they throw in my face, and past that to remember not to muse about what they think.
Truthfully, this attitude has helped me in most areas of my life, not including the love department. After they figure out that sexualizing deficiencies was a horrible idea and that I don’t really give a crap about much, the first date is kind have ruined. It’s true I didn’t have close friends growing up, but that didn’t harm me in adolescence. The friends I did make were not because I was cool and conformed and had everything together. No, I grew up, I learned that not being concerned about all the negative things people will say was better. I figured out that because I was rejected as a child and excluded, I became my own person, with my own thoughts and beliefs, my own tastes and sense of humour.
Yes I still have a speech impediment and severe dyslexia and notably a bad habit of rebellion and speaking my mind; which causes me to still be annoying and a pain in the neck for those who have the misfortune of being around me. But no, I’m not sorry that I am. If I was a person who swore, there are a lot of further remarks I could say about people who treat anyone as if they are lesser; but that would make me no better than them. We’re all humans, all equal. So no I’m not okay with you ostracizing me for being different; and I’m not a little girl anymore who’s afraid, and therefore will settle with it doesn’t matter. It does matter to me, so that’s why I stop letting them have the ability to hurt me. For that’s the only way they will ever hurt us, if we let them; I’m not going to let that happen, and I hope you don’t either.