Lingering

My bullying began when I was in second grade. At that time, no one cared, at all. Cops never got involved, rarely did teachers, principals, other parents, or any school officials do a darn thing. Even parents did little. I am writing because although we’ve made strides, and there is a national awareness of the problem of bullying, and even though schools try to be more proactive in prevention, and consequences of bullying, we have a long ways to go, and I believe that unless someone has experiences bullying, they simply don’t get it. In America I still do not think our country takes bullying as serious as it should. In fact, it seems to me that MANY think of it as a “rite of passage”, and something “all kids do, and all kids go through. ” NO, not ALL kids do it, and not ALL kids go through it, and there is ZERO value in being bullied. It doesn’t teach any lesson about being tough, strong, fighting-back,or being thick-skinned. It created trauma, severe, deep, wounding emotional trauma, that lasts your entire life. Confusing bullying with an insensitive or thoughtless remark, or a hard truth to hear, is injustice. There is a far cry from telling someone something without realizing the tone or inflection in your voice, and relentless, calculated, cruel bullying! I don’t believe a “rite of passage” has to include either be a horrible person, or be treated horribly. I was being pushed into fences, having rocks thrown at me, held back against walls and having rocks and trash shoved in my pocket so deep I had to take off my pants in the bathroom to get rid of the debris they crammed in. My food was stolen off my lunch tray, and then the “fat” remarks begin shortly thereafter. Then, came the “queer” and “gay” and “faggot” remarks. They would throw wet towels at me, spit wads, kick my backpack out of my hands. I was kicked in the shin regularly, had my ankle stepped on constantly. They got into my desk one day and broke all my new pencils in half. Nothing was ever said. Nothing was ever done about it. I don’t believe for an iota of a second that our teacher, or any teacher, didn’t see it, hear it , and watch it. In fact, sometimes I know they’d be staring directly on, doing nothing. I don’t understand that level of cognitive dissonance, or immediate psychological barrier put up,but I know they knew. After a few months of it (but not even close to the length of time it actually continued) I went home and finally told my Mom what was happening. She was shocked.

Now, the insults about my Mom as well. The rock got bigger, the kicks got harder, I was tripped daily. I was afraid to use the bathroom nearest our class, because they would ALWAYS see me go in, and ALWAYS follow me. They always had something to say to me. About anything. If I was eating. It was gross. When I talked to other kids, who were my friends, this girl interrupted, jumped between us, and told them exactly WHY they shouldn’t be my friend. Most listened to her. She had managed to build her own little army, kids from every grade level, including her sixth grade brother and friends. I don’t know how she had the influence she did, but she managed. I was eight years old, and already gave up on teachers, and the school system in general. It seemed easier to blame the victims, because no one wanted to the bully mad at THEM. Even if that bully was a child. I figured that out on that day, and to this day, in 2018, it STILL is the truth in society.

It was surreal, I couldn’t believe that the level of torment I was going through, just to do to school everyday! My entire scholastic career, and how I interact with the world, my thought process, my perceptions, my sense of worth, my persona, the way I exit in the world and conduct myself….all stemmed from the psychological trauma from those years of bullying. It was a regular thing, I was always an easy target, and some of came from my experience of being bullied. It was a continuous, constant slew from middle-school through high-school, and even now. I still can’t defend myself. I still can’t even have a regular conversation with someone that might get a bit heated. I always assume people are “mad at me” or I need to apologize for something that made them annoyed. I go quiet when bullied, and just try to walk quickly out of it. I just cannot deal with even the slightest disagreement, because I always think that I am the one at fault, I’m the one with the flaw, I’m the one that should try and change and be more like someone else. I had a continuation of bullies, at every grade level. Not just the one kid that is a bully in a school either, it was entire groups of bullies and one long string. Often, it turned physical, and there was no rhythm or reason to it, at all. I write this, because I think people need to know that bully leave deep, impacting, scars. It affects who we are, what our moral are, how we respond to others. It shapes us when we become adults and when it’s unresolved, It is the catalyst behind people our adult choices, and even who we enter relationships with. It creates a very dysfunctional inner dialogue, and everywhere you go, you assume people are making fun of you. You already set-yourself for failure before you even begin doing anything. You can’t hear compliments, and no matter what someone says to you that is good, you tend to always just be waiting on the negative, and you always…ALWAYS think , if someone hurts you, you deserve it, by not meeting their standards for you.