Content Warning:
This entry reflects childhood trauma, bullying, and a harmful decision made during a time of emotional distress. This is based on real-life experiences and is not related to consensual BDSM, age-play, or roleplay. Reader discretion is advised.
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The Mistake I Made Trying to Belong
Aunt Rebecca did her best to raise us. Though she chose drugs in the end.
She gave us a roof, food, structure—things we hadn’t had in a while, to the best of her ability.
She stepped in when no one else would, and I’ll always be grateful for that.
But there was still a heaviness over the family.
The drugs.
The bad choices.
The people she trusted, who didn’t always have good intentions.
Even though we were safer than we had been with Anna, things still weren’t perfect.
And I’ll admit—I wasn’t perfect either.
I was a kid with a lot of pain.
I had a good heart, but sometimes I made bad choices trying to survive.
There were small pockets of light—moments that felt almost normal.
(It looked like a house, but it was set up as a daycare.)
At daycare, when I was living with Aunt Rebecca, we made tents out of blankets and chairs, creating our own little worlds.
There was a “girls’ side” and a “boys’ side,” but I always found a way to make mine the biggest. I’d crawl inside and take naps in my tent, feeling like I’d built my own safe place.
In the common area, we played games on the TV, including Tomb Raider and Sonic.
I liked Sonic best. Rose liked Tomb Raider. There was something about the speed, the loops, and the freedom that made me feel alive, like I could run away from anything for a while but had to wait because everyone wanted to play. \(-_-)/ We had to write our name on a paper and wait our turn, and if we didn't get to play that day, the list was used for tomorrow, so we could get our turn.
Beyblades and Silly Bandz were the thing back then.
We battled our Beyblades and shared them to battle others, laughing and pretending it was a real championship. I’d challenge anyone who thought they could beat me.
Sometimes, we’d gather around someone’s DSi to help them beat a Mario boss or find the golden coin. It was just fun to win together.
Snack time meant sitting in the kitchen, talking, and trading food.
I always hated Goldfish crackers, so I would skip snack time or ask for an apple if they had something else.
Those days weren’t perfect.
But in that daycare, under a blanket tent, I got to be a kid for the most part.
And for a moment… that was enough.
- - -
There was a time at daycare when I just wanted to fit in.
I was always bullied there by a few girls, but mainly by one of them, especially by a girl named Brittany. (-_-)
She treated me like I didn’t belong, and if Riley was around her, Riley would treat me that way, too. But when Riley and I were alone, she was nice. It confused me and hurt.
I started to believe that if I could get Brittany to accept me, the bullying would stop. I wouldn’t feel so left out. I wouldn’t feel so alone.
So one day, I tried to prove something to them. To show I wasn’t weak. To show I could be bold.
I made a terrible mistake.
While we were talking, she was being pushy and daring me. I told them both I was going to make a serious threat to the daycare—as a joke, trying to prove something. Because Brittany had laughed and said I wouldn’t actually do it. And I wanted to prove her wrong.
“The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.”
—Psalm 118:22
[Sometimes, life pushes people aside — people who are judged, misunderstood, or treated as if they don’t matter. That’s how I felt most of my life: like the one the builders rejected. But the parts of you that were rejected — your truth, your voice, your survival — are becoming the cornerstone of your healing, your story, and your purpose.]
That night at Aunt Rebecca's, I asked Daniel if I could use his phone to call a friend.
He said yes—just told me to bring it back when I was done.
So I went into the master bathroom and tried to call Riley twice.
No answer.
I left her a voicemail.
Then my sister came in, nosey about what I was doing.
I remember feeling nervous and unsure of what to do next.
Then I did it. I used my aunt’s dog's name and left a voicemail. A fake bomb threat.
At the time, I didn’t think it would matter.
I didn’t understand the ripple effect.
I was just a scared, angry, desperate girl trying to feel like someone important for once.
The next day, the daycare called Aunt Rebecca.
They asked her to come in and listen to the voicemail herself.
Later, Daniel came home—furious.
Because I had used his work phone.
He told me I could’ve cost him his job.
I was scared. I was scared of how mad Daniel was at me, I was scared of how angry he was and didn’t know how to handle it.
But…
I didn’t deny it.
I didn’t try to run from what I did.
I told them the truth.
I told them why.
And I told them I was sorry.
I accepted responsibility for my actions.
And I never made that mistake again.
“But God shows His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”
—Romans 5:8
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Reflection – Now That I’m Older
I know what I did was wrong.
But I also know I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone.
I was a child being bullied every day.
Mocked. Laughed at. Made to feel invisible.
I didn’t make that call because I was mean.
I made it because I was desperate.
I thought if I followed through with the joke, they’d stop picking on me.
They’d let me in.
That doesn’t excuse it.
But it explains it.
If I could talk to that little girl now—
The one who sat in the bathroom holding that phone, heart racing—
I’d tell her this:
You didn’t deserve to be treated the way they treated you. You didn’t need their approval. You didn’t need to risk everything just to be seen. You were already enough.
Already worthy.
Already lovable.
Even if they never said so. You weren’t a bad kid. You were a hurt one. And I see you now. And I forgive you.
“No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.”
—Hebrews 12:11
