When I was a kid, I was made fun of by other kids. I don’t know what I did to them. I was always nice to everyone, and I was painfully shy so I kept to myself most of the time. But for some reason, people found things to laugh at. They also pulled some horrible pranks on me: once, they locked me in a closet (and to this day, I’m terribly claustrophobic); another time, someone tried to set my long hair on fire. These weren’t harmless pranks, and they hurt me badly. For years, I existed as a joke, not a real person with real feelings.
As you can probably guess, my self-esteem was non-existent. When I was fourteen, I contemplated suicide. Going to school was traumatic and not fun. I had no real friends, no one to talk to or to care about me. I was nothing. I was worse than nothing.
I was a freak.
All I wanted was to be accepted. To be acknowledged as a person and not treated like crap. I wanted people to look at me and see me, not the girl who’s the butt of jokes or my imperfections. I was convinced that I’d never find that, that it just wasn’t possible.
Enter Job’s Daughters.