Derogatory nicknames (*triggers*)

Derogatory nicknames (*triggers*)
Charlie said:
For as long as I can remember I've been dad's bitch. "Are you listening bitch?" "Had enough bitch?" "Get up bitch!" Lazy bitch, stupid bitch, f*cking bitch, c*nt, p*ssy, wh*re, girl.
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My stepfather would do this too. Bitch was his favorite way to call me, and I also didn't have a name. My mother is an Icelander and never bothered to explain what she was calling me in her mother tongue. She cursed constantly in Icelandic and her favorite word to call me was kerling. It means wuss.

I was trapped at home from the ages 7 to 14, since my stepfather pulled me out of school, and I didn't hear my name for seven long years. They took that away from me to a point I stuttered and couldn't answer when somebody asked my name the first couple of times after I got out. It's terrible, to be robbed of your name.

My mother still tries to call me kerling sometimes, but I don't let her anymore. I'm proud of my name, my father gave it to me. I won't let anyone rob it from me again.

Elijah
 
At the school where the abuse happened I heard a lot of names, fucking bastard, fucking idiot, fucking blind bastard fucking blind bith, fucking gay blindy etc, it got to the point where I liked hearing those names because if the abuse was only verbal it wasn't being . anything else, I got to the stage where a crowd of people could be chanting as I walked down the corridor and I just wouldn't hear.

The one which really bothers me in retrospect is
"diseased"
It would be said constantly either too me "your diseased", "you think your better than us but your just diseased!", or even about me in others hearing "he's diseased!", even when I cut my hand so badly I had blood running down my fingers what was said was "don't get it on me, I don't want your disease!"
 
(((dary empathy)))

The guys who bullied me weren't nearly as brave as that. "Fag" would be said in stage whispers as I passed. They didn't chant at me. Only when the coast was clear would they stop and encircle me, calling out shit and shove me around. I know how humiliating that little dose was. I am sorry your dignity was subjected to their cruelty and ignorance.
 
((((ALL OF YOU))))

sissy, wuss, queer, twink, weak, wimp, pedobait. Some boys yanked my pants down in the cafeteria in 9th grade so being called "peachfuzz" all through high school was an almost daily thing. Of all the names I've been called in my day... twink, pedobait, and weak were the ones that stung the most. -Noah
 
For me my parents never used mean names. But they did use names that were tied to the sex. When I was younger it was “boy” or my moms favorite was “baby boy”. Then once I was in puberty which was a big deal it became “little man” and “horny boy”. I hate saying when I was younger I was not bothered by the names but sort of proud. I know that is crazy. Now those names bother me. I hate when I hear someone call there son little man.
 
It has been a long time since I have been triggered by a post. This thread did that. I can feel the pain that each one of you felt because I felt it too. i am sorry for what was done to you and what was said to you.

Names have always been a problem for me. When mom married the stepdad I was 5 ½ and soon after, he legally changed my younger brother’s and my last names so that there would not be awkward explanations required about why our last name was different from his. So I lost my original identity and connection with my father’s family. I have always been uncomfortable with my “new” last name. when I became an adult and started being called “Mr. ___” I hated it because every time I heard it, I thought of him. If I had realized then what I know now, I’d have changed my name back to my original birth name.

The step-dad was the first and longest abuser. He didn’t have nicknames for me but he called me sissy and pansy and queer and useless and pathetic as descriptions. And the tone of voice in which he used my real name was filled with contempt and distain and hatred. What ended up happening was that I grew to hate my real first name. Then the bullies and abusers at school and scouts added an obscene description to my real name and that became their nickname for me.

When I started using my name here, I chose my middle name – one that hadn’t been tainted by perps. I also use it for a WoR, my 12-step meetings, and peer support group – basically any place that I wasn’t already know by the other name.

There was also a work situation when I was in my 20s where my supervisor regularly called me “Pokey Bait.” I didn’t think it bothered me at the time – but now I know that it did. Actually, I think it bothers me now more than it did then.

names are powerful - whether they are the true one that belong to us - or false ones that are wrongly forced upon us.

lee
 
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Work is getting under my skin. Someone I warned my boss about is now assistant manager. Last week she called me "little boy". I think of being called "dickless" by the bullies when I was 12 and 13. To this day the most pain I have is pre and into puberty... which was just getting taller and skinnier, not much else. I tell you, the cruelty of body shame is so intense, only the best therapy can help me. I'm triggered so bad, I'll have to tell my therapist tomorrow?

I feel sad, I feel bad, I feel like people are so stupid.

Do I have to grow a thicker skin, desensitize myself, be the one to change for the assholes who say things that are stupid?

I'm getting other things too, work is pushing my limits of endurance about body shame at present. I used to be strong and pretty dang physical, now, with health problems and my back going out, I feel very different, and I'm sensitive about it.

Being called "little boy" seemed to me, it really seemed a reference to her perception of size? I am too vigilant about feeling inadequate, and there's just nothing I can do about it out there.

I'm screaming the F word in my mind!!
 
Scream it out loud. Even if it is in your car in a park. Let the anger out. It is justified. It is what you feel and holding it in will add stress and destroy you further physically.
 
Thanks mani, I'll try the first chance I get. I left my stress ball in the car, I'll get that this morning and give that method a chance too.
 
Whoever said sticks and stones will break my bones but words.... was at best, a total ditz. Words can be more harmful, carry as much weight as a stone and leave an impact. Instead of a shot to the body it's a shot to the spirit. Some hurt worse than others. I've got an old leather punching bag i use if I start to boil over. Cussing the steering wheel is a new one. Well, grab some throat spray and let 'er rip. I hope today goes better for you, for all of you.
-Noah
 
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