Gaslight … Girl b — you know the rest

I am gas lit so bad that I am now questioning the entirety of humankind and how are we socially, morally and ethically acceptable. Or that I am just reliving childhood traumas, I dunno.

Point is, I name-dropped someone who’s been harassing me from 2010–2014 and came back again early this week. For reasons entirely unknown.

I’m not gonna post the whole drama of it, I’m sure people who’ve messaged me in private will eventually spread the story/my side. But here’s the thing: if women stood up for themselves, why are we being brushed off as ‘bitchy’ or even ‘bully’?

On a tangent, lemme tell you about bullying.

When I was in middle school, or what we called then “Intermediate Level”, I had a constant bully. It’s so harsh to call her this way cos we’re friends now but back then, she totally was a bully. She would get mad at me for the smallest of reasons, she’d say shit in front of my face and behind my back. Sometimes I would pretend to be sick just so I don’t have to see her and her clique. When I fessed up to my mom, that I no longer wanted to go to school because “takot na ako maparinggan na naman”. That’s when she stepped in. She talked to my bully, and the girl immediately stopped.

But of course, there was a sweet murmur that my mom was now ‘the bully’. When she’s just doing what any mom would do when their child is uncomfortable talking, they talk.

When I went to college, I had to do it on my own. I don’t have a mom to ‘defend’ me. So I started defending myself.

I did it once to another student, she was a working student in the library. She was shushing us when we weren’t even that noisy. She hides in one of the corners of the bookshelves and I happened to be there, I figured since she’s been very strict with us murmuring, she must be so diligent in following the rules. She wasn’t, she was hiding there to text. So I told her, that since she’s on duty, she’s not allowed to text. She came back with ‘it’s none of your business.’ And I said, ‘okay.’

But then she did something very stupid that sparked the fighter in me — 10 minutes after the confrontation, she came to our table, looked at me and said, “My supervisor is there, do you want to issue a complaint?”

And my quivering ass stood up, looked at her straight to the face and walked towards her supervisor’s office and complained.

Of course, the supervisor was told me, we were asked to be quiet maybe cos we were. And I told her I only came here because the girl challenged me to report her. So I did.

The next day, the girl was crying and was obviously reprimanded for my report. I felt so bad that I never came back to the same spot where she usually is to avoid more friction.

Around the same time, I don’t know if it’s bullying, but it was very traumatic nonetheless: a dorm mate accused me of … I don’t even know.

Here’s the thing, I am a messy person and I take responsibility of the mess I made. However, coming home to a really messy bed when you know in the morning, you’ve cleaned it is so frustrating. And I thought people would understand, they didn’t. So what I did was, hid some tennis balls under the bed sheet so whoever’s been messing with my bed knows that I know what they’re doing. And they should fix the bed accordingly so when I come back, the bed’s neat.

And surprisingly, it still wasn’t.

So I left an unsent note on my table saying “To whoever’s lying on my bed when I’m away, pls arrange it back to how it is when you came.” I didn’t mind they lie on it, I only mind they made it MESSY. Add the fact that I don’t even know who does this! I left the note on my table, far away from my bed, thinking nobody will see it but boy I was so wrong.

“If you got a problem, say it to my face — what a friend.” Was the response I got.

Again, we’re ‘civil’ now. But I can’t help but feel bad about the situation. Imagine me coming home with that note. Imagine the feeling that I was the bad friend. Imagine asking for a small bit of respect, only to be disrespected afterwards. How small I felt, how insecure I became and how gaslit I’ve been.

I didn’t know who to confront, I didn’t know how else to say it. I didn’t know my frustration is invalid cos I should’ve been a good friend.

But maybe I shouldn’t have left a note? Maybe I should’ve confronted them head on? Maybe I should’ve asked around who’s been doing that?

The problem is the person who’s actually messing with my bed is NOT THE SAME PERSON as the one who wrote the note.

When I came to the room that night, the person who wrote the note was on the phone and told the person on the other side “Ngadi na didi akon gi siring.” It was Waray-waray for “She’s here, the one I talked about.”

I felt ganged up starting that day, I felt so insecure. I felt so alone. I don’t think anyone sided with me, I never got to explain my side.

Gosh, this makes me cry, I should be in therapy. HAHAHA

I’ve been gaslit so many times that standing up for myself feels like a workout and feels like I shouldn’t be doing that. Asking people to stop doing things that make me uncomfortable.

I don’t know how to finish this blog post anymore. Let me just go ahead and say… to those who try to change the truth in favour of them, fuck yall. Keep gaslighting, girlbosses and gatekeepers!