What Died - What Lives

My name was Bethany.

Bethany wasn't really a nice person. She lied, she bitched, she was violent. But she was never aware she was doing these things. When I was Bethany, it felt like my whole world was fogged over. I couldn't really tell what I was doing, what I was saying, or anything really. I hated myself, I still do, but now I'm learning to live with it, and I don't hate myself anywhere near as much as I used to.

The name Bethany, for me, is now connected to horrible things, horrible memories, and I'm pretty certain I haven't figured them all out yet myself. Bethany isn't only connected to the bad things that I did though, its also connected to bad things done to me.

When I was Bethany, I was fat and I got bullied for it, very badly. Yeah, I turned that around while I was her, but still all I see when I look in the mirror is that 13 stone 11 year old kid. And I probably always will.

Bethany also had the people she thought to be her friends turn their back on her, multiple times. They bitched about her. Told lies about her. Called her an attention seeker. She wasn't an attention seeker, she just wanted friends, and she didn't know how to get them. Because of that, she might have done and said some things that may be classed as weird, or dramatic. It was never to get attention, it was because she didn't know how else to behave. And in return, she lost everything, including the person she loved.

However, while I know I'm not Bethany anymore, I am still Bethany to my family. The reason for that is because they refuse to see me as who I really am. My parents and I have a strained relationship at best. And I know they don't care about me in the way that they should. When I came home and told my mother that I had mental issues I didn't get care or sympathy from her. The first thing she said to me after I told her was "Where did you get that from? Not from me." What I got was her thinking only of how it would affect her life. As for my father he didn't say anything. And now they both pretend that it doesn't exist. And they mostly pretend that I don't exist too. So, as the person I am now, I don't put any stock in family values. I couldn't care less about my family, because they don't care enough me. I see myself as having no family now.

But these are only a small amount of the negative things I have attached to the name Bethany. The rest I am unwilling to share, some I keep to myself, others I haven't figured out yet.

The day that I tried to commit suicide, Bethany died. She was weak, and pathetic, and didn't deserve to live. I am what survived and I have taken a new name. I am stronger than she was, and my world isn't fogged up. And while I'm still scared, every moment of every day, I will keep on fighting, and I will keep confronting my fears because I am so much better than that. I'm trying to right all the wrongs I did while I was her. I know that it is probably impossible. Particularly when some of the people I knew when I was Bethany refuse to see that I am different now. And particularly when people still insist on naming me that worthless person I used to be.

My name is Effy Ashton. Once upon a time my name was Bethany Carol Ashton. But she doesn't exist anymore; and I will make damned sure she never exists again.