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So, in high school, I had an even more severe social anxiety disorder. Like, it was so bad that when someone would speak to me, I wouldn’t say a single word back to them. Wouldn’t even acknowledge their existence, really. My mom (who I will openly admit was my best friend at the time) was also just diagnosed with cancer and going through treatment for that. I was horribly depressed and truly hated every aspect of my life. 

I skipped a lot of school. Not because I wanted to be a bad student, but because the amount of anxiety I was dealing with was making me physically ill every morning. Some days, I could get over it or make a valiant attempt to deal with it, but other days, it was just too much for me to handle.

When I was put on medication, my school counselor sent an email to all of my teachers letting them know what was going on in my life and why I was acting the way I was. Most of them understood or tried to, at least. One of them didn’t. 

The worst subject for my social anxiety was gym class. Changing my clothes in front of other people? No, thanks. Playing sports (quite awfully, I might add) in front of other people? Not me. But if it was something I was halfway decent in (I could KICK ASS in badminton) I would give it a try. We played kickball one day. I believe the gym teachers called it “extreme kickball”? You had to do a different activity at every base before moving on to the next base. At first base, you had to jump rope. Usually when I play kickball, I kick the ball real easy to someone so they can catch it and I’ll be out real quick. I don’t actually want to play fucking kickball, you know? My plan failed this time and I had to go to first base. Fortunately, I knew how to jump rope…or so I thought. I started jumping and the gym teacher (Mrs. Mach) said to me “That’s not the correct way to jump rope. You have to do it the right way or it doesn’t count.” and made me attempt it again in front of everyone. I ended up not being able to do it the way SHE wanted me to do it, so I was out. 

A little backstory: Mrs. Mach has hated me since 9th grade. In 9th grade, I didn’t play gym for half the school year. Because of the way New York state worked at the time, I couldn’t get a grade lower than a 50 on my report card for the first two quarters of the year. I played gym the other half of the year, got somewhat decent grades and ended up passing the entire year. I played gym for only half of a school year and still passed. That pissed her the fuck off and she’s hated me ever since. 

So on days that I did play gym, she would be unfair to me. She would tell me that she wasn’t going to give me full credit for the day because I wasn’t moving enough, when in reality, I was moving just as much as everybody else.

On one of the days that I decided not to play, she came up to me while everyone else was in the locker room and asked me what I had planned to do with my life (as if not taking gym class was such a sin that it would negatively affect my life in profound ways that I would never be able to recover from). I didn’t say anything back. She then told me I would “hold up the wall” for the rest of my life and that’s all I would ever amount to. That comment has stayed with me for FUCKING YEARS and I use it as a constant motivator to myself. If there’s anyone in this world that I want to prove wrong, it’s her. 

SO. TODAY. I go on Facebook and my cousin had posted a news article about one of the coaches at Depew retiring because of accusations or some shit. I read it.
THIS FUCKING BITCH WAS CHEATING ON HER HUSBAND WITH THE COACH. SHE GOT FIRED BECAUSE SHE DIDN’T “REPORT THE RELATIONSHIP”. She also said she’s embarrassed by all of this. Hahahahahah.

Karma is a motherfucker, Mrs. Mach. I hope the embarrassment you’re feeling now is at least as much as I felt when you repeatedly called me out in front of the entire gym class all while knowing I had a severe social anxiety disorder, you fucking cunt.