"Stupid bitch."

"You're a loser with no friends."

"No one likes you."

"Just kill yourself."

Day after day I was tormented with Facebook messages. Finally, after being told those things and called those names for months, I believed it was finally over. I hadn’t heard anything in a solid four/five weeks. I had taken the verbal abuse for a while, but I survived. It was done.

I was wrong.

*DING*

New message.

Heart races.

Palms sweat.

Click.

Scroll.

Read.

"I like how you think you're so hot when in reality, you're ass ugly. You should get plastic surgery- or no wait that's too expensive. Just put a paper bag over your head. It's cheap, and it covers your face."

Vision blurs.

Body shakes.

Heart aches.

This one was a hard pill to swallow…to say the least.

I have always considered myself a pretty tough girl with thick skin. I can handle a lot. I’m always the one to stick up for others and take on everyone’s battles for them. I put myself last most of the time. But this one hit me- hard. No matter how thick of skin, how tough you are, you can only handle so much. If you're told something over and over and over again, you start to believe it.

I started believing that I was ugly and never going to be looked at as otherwise.

I decided to expose this dark point in my life to the world for a pretty simple reason: I made it. I think the more we try and hide the darkness in our past, the more we may start to think that it’s true. No one should have to battle their demons alone. Especially when these demons are eating away at your self-confidence. I want anyone who is being told hurtful things to remember that you aren’t alone. You are SO loved and cherished. Your life is precious and you need to live it. Someone else’s words and judgements DO NOT define you. I understand that it’s hard to get up every day and be in constant fear of what’s going to happen next. I understand that it’s hard to love yourself when others so clearly don’t. I understand that it’s hard to ignore what people tell you repeatedly. But if you start talking about it, and stop letting it consume you, you’ll heal. I promise this doesn’t have to last forever, and it won’t.

Anyone that has heard me talk about this part of my life has heard me say that I am actually grateful it happened. I’m grateful that I was the one bullied, instead of someone else. I know that I can handle a great deal from people. I worried about how others would receive it. I’ll be the first to admit that I cried hearing those things. It wasn’t easy. I genuinely started believing them. But, I didn’t allow it to define me. Some people would handle it much worse and I feared that it could have lead to a fatal outcome.

Granted, it took some time and a whole lot of love and hugs from Mommy, but I still did it. I do continue to struggle with self-confidence on a daily basis, and I try to not hear those words in my head when I wake up in the morning, but they actually motivate me to be the best Brayden I can possibly be. So, yes, I’m thankful to my bully for choosing me. She picked apart a person who could put herself back together.