Bullying

As of late, bullying has made quite an appearance in the news and seems to arise in everyday conversation for often than ever before. The reasoning for this? More and more kids are committing suicide due to being bullied. I hate that it has had to go to these great lengths for anyone to truly begin to notice how horrible it is.

Everyone I seem to know was bullied at some point in their life. Granted, I am friends with a very eclectic group of people which probably explains it. We were the “different” kids, the ones who were mercilessly mocked for thinking outside the box and waiting to go and be something beyond the average corporate world.

I was not bullied for my sexual orientation, my skin tone, my religious beliefs, or how I dressed. I was bullied for being outspoken, overweight due to medical issues, and being a farm kid, amongst many other reasons.

My middle school years were hell, pure hell. I dreaded waking up and going to school, would do anything to get out of certain classes, abhorred walking down the hallways or even having to visit my locker. Some people were friendly to my face, and then spread vicious, scarring, painful, brutal rumors behind my back.

Through all of it, my brother, his friends, my parents, my ponies, and our farm were my saving grace. My brother is 2 1/2 years old than me and the fact that he was involved with the football team and all the guys would speak to me in the halls and look out for me infuriated girls my age. They were jealous that these guys would notice “the fat freak” but would not acknowledge them. I was never interested in any of these guys, they were just my friends and they looked out for me. My brother has always been and will always be my best friend. My parents fought tooth and nail with the school, the school my brother attended grades Pre-K through 12 and I attended Pre-K through my 1st semester of 9th grade when I finally had to leave. I always knew I was safe when I came home. My ponies and my dogs could never hurt me.

I thought that high school would be different so, I went back. After one semester, I had to leave. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have made it. I found Salem Academy, an all girl’s school that initially I was mortified of attending because the majority of my tormentors had always been girls. Salem turned out to be a great place for me. They were compassionate and safe through all my health battles, everyone was weird, and we all knew it. No one was the same and for the most part, we all got along because of that fact. Most of us had sought out Salem because our middle school years were hell. We were all smart and different and strong. It was a great place and I will forever be indebted to it helping heal so many scars.

I still struggle with my female relationships. I still have insecurities and scars, and most likely always will. Bullying is real and painful and for some reason, people seem to be ashamed that they were victims. I have no problem talking to people about how painful it was, and the memories still are. Why? If it helps spread the message and brings attention to bullying, it’s painful affects, etc. I will do all I can to help. I wouldn’t wish what happened to me on my worst enemy and in my heart, I know karma will deal with my tormentors in the long run even if I’m not there to witness it.