Respectme

Some people had always looked upon me as being different because I lived with two ‘mums’ instead of a mum and dad.  It was perfectly natural to me: I was brought up in a loving household where I was well looked after and taught to respect other people. 

It wasn’t really until we moved house when I was a teenager that I noticed that it seemed to be more of an issue to other people than it was to me.  Although to be honest, I think it was more of a problem to the parents of the new friends I made than those friends themselves. 

It happened gradually – a few friends stopped returning my calls or their parents said they weren’t home when I knew that they were.  Eventually I stopped making the effort and began spending more time on my own.  I joined a few online chat rooms and made new friends that way.  It obviously wasn’t the same as having friends to hang around with but I felt that I was part of a community again.  Until one night I logged on to a site and saw some really awful stuff written about me.  They had even included photos and had superimposed the heads of my parents on to some pornographic images.  I was horrified and didn’t know what to do.

At first I decided to ignore it but someone at school had downloaded it and had sent it around everyone’s mobile phones.  I wanted to die.  Again, I decided to try to ignore it but it was always at the back of my mind and I was well aware of the comments that were being made about me.  Eventually it became too much – why couldn’t my parents be ‘normal’ like everyone else’s?!  One day I cracked.  I was walking down the corridor when someone shouted one of the usual derogatory comments at me; and I’d had enough.  I turned round and smacked him to the ground and started punching. 

The teachers pulled us apart but the damage was done.  My parents and the parents of the other boy were called and we were left to explain ourselves.  Even then I couldn’t bring myself to tell the truth, I didn’t want my parents to hear about the comments and images that had been circulating about them.  But my story didn’t wash and eventually the truth came out.  Although I felt awful for my parents, I felt as though all the months of torment were leaving my system and a huge strain had been lifted off me.

Of course they were shocked, and upset that I hadn’t felt able to tell them before things got as bad, but they were supportive of me.  It was good to talk to them and together we’ve started to get the situation at school sorted out.  I thought that telling would make things worse and make my parents feel bad but in reality it’s made things much better.