“Anyone, please send me anyone
-Demi Lavato
Lord, is there anyone?
I need someone, oh
Anyone, please send me anyone
Lord, is there anyone?
I need someone”
Trigger warning: bullying; sexual assault
How many times have I cried out this exact same thing? How many times have I prayed that prayer? This song chokes me up every time I hear it because I’ve lived it.
I’m still healing from it.
Demi Lovato and I have a similar backstory. She and I are both the same age. We were both severely bullied growing up. We are both queer. And we both struggle deeply with mental illness.
I never liked the jokes people made about them because it always felt like an attack on me, as well. It’s funny until you know someone. It’s funny until you’re the one crying out into a barren void “Lord, is there anyone?”
Please. Be that someone.
Each and every one of us can be someone’s reason. In those days, I latched onto anything and anyone to keep going. Anyone’s smile. Anyone’s friend request. Anyone’s kind gesture.
By the grace of God, I eventually made it out of that era of peril, but barely.
I’m still seared with scars from those high school days. I even have the PTSD diagnosis to prove it. I have nightmares almost weekly about being back within those walls, going through the anguish all over again.
What was done to me should have never happened. I should’ve been able to know safety and belonging. I should’ve been able feel loved and understood. Instead, I got chaos and a dysregulated nervous system that does backflips anytime I hear a child or teen laugh.
Everyone who knows me even a little has heard me trauma dump. They’ve heard the stories of getting bullied so badly that it ended in sexual assault.
In many ways, that era feels lightyears away, yet I still relive it every day as if it were happening all over again.
And again.
And then, yet again.
Healing isn’t for the faint of heart. The mere fact I’ve been able to stare all this down with the same softness I’ve always carried is a heroic endeavor. Those of us able to do this work and hold all of it so tenderly often don’t get the credit we rightfully deserve.
I’m still rising strong.
Like a skyscraper.
Tim Coe 