about bullying

[valis2]

I just read a link to a bullying story (link from atdt1991).

It hit really close to home. I'm sitting here thinking of the ways in which the bullying I experienced in my past echo in the present. It's like a bitter well inside of me that might never run dry. Like the author of this story, I fully expect those I meet to dislike me or not want to talk to me. I am always surprised when people want to be my friend or spend time with me. Going into any new social experience gives me the shakes.

I was a strange girl in elementary school, and I became stranger to my classmates when I changed grade levels, moving past third grade into fourth during the first month of the school year. The kids were older and taller and a little suspicious of me. I'm tall, so eventually I did manage to keep pace with the kids in my grade level, but as far as emotional maturity or social adeptness, I soon lost my footing. I managed to stay afloat through the rest of elementary school, mostly by being strange and hammy, but I made no new friends, and lost the few friendships I'd had because of the change in class.

In retrospect, I was completely unprepared for junior high school. My only sibling was an older sister was nearly seven years older than me and who was strictly forbidden from any sort of rough play or antagonistic behavior. And because I'd had so few friends and was so socially stunted, I was swallowed whole by junior high school. My home life was rule-oriented, so I was ready for rules, and even though I chafed against them, I understood them and wanted to follow them.

It mystified me when people broke rules or did antagonistic things toward each other. I had been taught not to hit or hurt, and to feel empathy toward those who had been hit or hurt, so junior high school was a horrible new world for me. I was introverted and moody, and I thought about strange things and wore strange clothes. I was definitely a target from the start.

What probably made me so entertaining was my over-the-top reactions. I'm sure I was amusing as hell. I gasp pretty loudly, and my face shows my emotions really well, and hurt comes through like a beacon. I'd get angry, too, but just could not get past the Do Not Hit rule, which made my impotent fury all the more entertaining, I'm certain. It was easy to get a rise out of me.

I made a couple friends, including a sad sack I felt sorry for, and it was one of the bitterest flavors in the well when she turned on me and used her mocking of me to secure herself a higher position on the social ladder.

The teasing was unending. The tormentors were sometimes complete strangers--kids I didn't even share a class with and who weren't even friends of the usual bullies. I was tripped. Things were stolen from me. I can even remember which things, all this time later. Gloves. Books. A Swiss army knife which was given to me by my father.

The bus was the worst. When the bell rang, I would grab my things and run, as fast as I could, to the bus, so I could sit behind the bus driver. It lessened their ability to mess with me. I learned this strategy the hard way, after having to tear a huge chunk of my hair out of my head because someone had put gum in it and I couldn't bear the feel of it flopping around. I still wonder what the bus driver thought when she found it on the floor.

The morning ride was much worse, actually, because I was on the second-to-last stop. And no one wanted me to sit next to them. I would get kicked off seats. I'd try to sit down in the aisle and the bus driver would demand I sit down on a seat, but wouldn't help when I was repeatedly kicked off. Once in a while someone would take pity on me, but it wasn't often.

I hated school. My grades suffered. In one class I sat in front of a kid who was a hoodlum, basically, and he made things horrible for me. And he made things horrible for the teacher, too, actually. He must have been held back, because he was at least two years older than me. I went up to the teacher after class one day and asked him if I could punch the hoodlum. The teacher said yes.

The next day, the hoodlum did something nasty, and I nearly did it. But I could not get past the fact that you Do Not Hit. And, staring the hoodlum in the eye, I saw how much worse it could get. How my life could be even more of a living hell than it already was. After class, the teacher rescinded permission to punch him.

I was desperate for any way out of this problem. One of the teachers I confided in just told me to ignore them, that it would go away. So I did. That made it even worse. I would pretend they didn't exist, so when I got tripped I'd just get up again like a robot and keep going. This was even more amusing than me shouting or insulting them, which I'd done a little of up until that point. So yeah, it got worse. And because I'd been given this strategy by a teacher, I couldn't fathom why it wasn't working, and I just kept trying to ignore them.

The last half of my eighth grade was the worst time of my life. I wanted to escape so badly. I withdrew completely. It felt like I was behind a waterfall, like I couldn't feel things properly any longer. I daydreamed about killing myself. I remember going into the ninth grade planning session and not caring, because I didn't think I'd be alive for it. I couldn't even imagine going through another year of that torture. My only problem was that I just couldn't figure out how to kill myself properly. I was terrified that it would go wrong.

My mom and dad were in the midst of their own worries, and I don't think they fully understood what was going on at first. Maybe they still don't, I don't know. I think my mom had been bullied, however, and even though they couldn't afford it, she took action and sent me to a private high school for my ninth grade year.

I will always be grateful for that, but not in the way you might think.

You see, this high school had a marching band. And you had to show up two weeks early for marching band practice (before school even started). So I did.

By the end of the first week, I was getting teased.

By the end of the second week, I was getting bullied.

Not one kid from my junior high school was there.

I had always assumed that it was the bullies. I always assumed it was their fault. That they were evil, sadistic little bastards and that I just needed to get away from them for my life to be perfect. I blamed them for every little evil action they took, for the horrible hopeless life I was living, for the bald patch on my head where I'd yanked out that hair.

When I came home that second weekend, it felt like I was waking up and really seeing myself. And I realized that I wasn't just a victim, I was acting like a victim. My reactions were so comical, my social skills so awful and awkward, and it all conspired to make me a beautiful target.

I spent the entire weekend coming to the realization that it wasn't the bullies, it was me. I had inspired this reaction in them. I had caused my own bullying somehow. They weren't blameless, not by a long shot, but they certainly weren't the full origin of my suffering. I'd made it myself with my own two hands. And it hurt to realize this.

I came to high school and I changed myself. I made myself ham it up, poke fun at things, laugh, anything. I forced myself to talk to people. I consciously became the Oddball, who is funny and goofy and strange. I did end up with a little teasing and a little bullying but it was nothing compared to what I'd gone through before. And by the end of senior year, I had friends (best friends, even) and I was sad to see high school end.

Of course, this is sounding pretty triumphant right now.

Nowadays, though, I see it as a mixed bag. On one hand, I adapted and made myself into someone more socially acceptable in order to protect myself. But on the other, that bitter well still flows inside of me. It's full of poison that I can only dilute a cup at a time, if that.

I went to a party several years ago, and met a bunch of new people. At one point I was introduced to a guy, and he made a crude joke about me within the first few lines of conversation. I think that most people would find him rude and offensive and just blow it off and forget about it within minutes, but I was horrified and stood there, frozen in shock for a split second, scared that even being an adult was no protection against this. Later, I dated a friend of his, who insisted that the guy was a complete sweetheart who would give the shirt off his back to anyone who needed it.

For me, though, it was predator and prey, all over again, looking into the tiger's eye and shrinking in fear. I know--my gloves weren't stolen, I wasn't punched in the stomach in front of people, and I wasn't on the floor with all of my books and papers spread out everywhere with people walking all over them and laughing. But it was enough to take me directly back to that time, to feel it like a jolt of electricity through my spine.

Some things never change. I feel things too deeply, I crave acceptance too much, and I'm scared of other people, of their power. There are things you forget, and things you can't forget. I read the linked entry and could not help but remember feeling those things, and remember being so thoroughly miserable, and I understand only too well what she's talking about.

Unlike the author, though, my bullies were not so easily targeted. It wasn't a trio of identifiable girls. There were lots of them, and I don't remember most of their names, nor even their faces. And if they apologized? I don't know if it would even matter like it did for the author. I don't remember what was said; it's really not even individual events or people. It's about the echoes that I still feel from it, the way that I want to protect myself, how I get scared about going into new social situations. How this sort of thing does make one stronger, in a way, but also leaves one more vulnerable in other ways.

My first job after high school was at a Wal-mart-style store. One of my old tormentors began to work there as part of the cleaning crew, and after a few weeks, I could sense that he was working up to making fun of me. Eventually he did, calling me one of the old names he'd used in junior high school.

I turned to him and said, "Well, at least I'm not a janitor."

You may see this as a triumph, but I do not. You see, standing next to him was a guy who was a sweetheart, who had asked me out for a date at one point. Who was also a janitor.

---

Um. This is not meant as a Poor Me thing. I am trying to deal with this and understand it better, and it always helps to write it out, and share it. Especially because oftentimes people have similar stories, and to share just makes it feel more bearable. So please don't feel like you need to send me virtual hugs or anything like that. I just want to process this and think about it.

Comments

[schemingreader.livejournal.com]

I have been worrying about my kid, who is encountering teasing in first grade. He's too honorable to tell on other children to the teacher. He's too grave and decent and kind to speak up and tell the kid who picks on him the most to be quiet. Hit the other kid? Ha! He won't even tell him to shut up, because shut up is "a bad word."

I don't quite know what to tell him to do. (I did have a few good ideas, but he's in first grade!) I was pretty good at standing up to some kinds of bullying, in exactly the way you learned to do it--edgy wisecracks. But at the same time, like you, I found the behavior shocking. Like, "why are you doing that?" It's because logical people don't see a percentage in being an asshole. My kid is above all, a fan of logic and a prodigy of empathy.

[valis2.livejournal.com]

I swear, this is what scares me the most about having children--how the hell will I be able to teach them assertiveness when I do not understand it myself? How can I teach them this?

I think I would become a hysterical crazy person if I knew my kids had to go through what I went through. It wasn't that bad, honestly, especially considering horror stories I've heard from other people, but still.

Good luck, sweetie. And if you find strategies that work, I really hope you'll share them with us!

I might be laughing a bit too loud, but that never hurt no one...

[little-tristan.livejournal.com]

I spend a lot of time wondering how many of us ended up on LJ because this is our life story. I made it through grade school on books and one friend, who was tough and loyal and cool and would kick the shit out of anyone who messed with me. But when her family moved the summer before 6th grade, I was on my own and it turned into--this. Punching, kicking, stealing, hair full of saliva, and twenty adults pointing fingers and telling me it was my fault. I even had the sad sack second-string friend who sold me out for social standing, but she couldn't keep it because no one likes a sell-out.

And being an adult is no protection. My step-daughter looks at me exactly like those kids did, as a crippled nerd to be picked on, and she stole from and hit me, too. Or did before she decided we weren't cool enough to visit anymore. (Maybe it's being from Albuquerque. I was not surprised when I read that.) And some of these people have tried to friend me on FB, only without the apologies, or a note of any kind. They just recognize my name and want more FarmVille neighbors or something. I'm trying hard to accept that they were children, too, and it was 20 years and more ago, but I'm still going to need to see that acknowledgment of wrong-doing before I agree to fertilize their crops or feed their chickens. Because I'm not that cowering victim anymore and I do have a little pride.

I'm glad you found a way to cope, and a bit of self-awareness. I didn't get that until I was in my 20s. But then I didn't care about being liked. I just wanted to be left alone.

Re: I might be laughing a bit too loud, but that never hurt no one...

[valis2.livejournal.com]

I spend a lot of time wondering how many of us ended up on LJ because this is our life story.

I have a theory about a lot of fandom people, which is they were also part of the outcasts in their schools. Text is so much more comfortable and...safe, in many ways. (Though cyberbullying has shown that, when thwarted face to face, bullying just jumps the fence and goes for the next outlet.)

I even had the sad sack second-string friend who sold me out for social standing, but she couldn't keep it because no one likes a sell-out.

Mine became friends with my only other friend, and they laughed at me together all the time. That was a special level of suck.

And being an adult is no protection.

Yeah, I've been in a few situations where it rears its ugly head, and it sucks. I often ruminate on what makes people bullies and/or victims. I spend even more time on trying to understand that elusive Cool thing, that makes people overlook stupid stuff you do and like you even more, that makes you like catnip to people. I just have no gut instinct for social stuff--I have to piece it all out, and often I do it wrong. ugh.

And when I saw that this story happened in Albuquerque, I did think of you, totally. Rough place, and even rougher for the vulnerable.

I'm glad you found a way to cope, and a bit of self-awareness. I didn't get that until I was in my 20s. But then I didn't care about being liked. I just wanted to be left alone.

I sacrificed my baby personality by trying to burn it at the stake. But I couldn't get rid of it, of course. Mostly I am my outward personality, with this inner strangeness at my core. The inner strangeness would like nothing better than to just sit and play video games in a dark room for the rest of my life. lol.

Anyway, I don't know if I recommend such a radical fix to everyone. It wasn't pleasant, but fortunately I was anesthetized at the time so it didn't hurt as much as it could have.

[droxy.livejournal.com]

been there and done that. the bus was the absolute worse. There was no escape. parents- utterly useless. Finally learned how to cope by researching what was wrong with me. Learned the whats and hows of what was going on. Doesn't stop it, but I knew. I also got a little perspective...I started clock watching and focusing on the future.

People are horrified when kids took guns to school and used them on fellow students, but there some us in society who know why they did. It's just that back in the 80s we never thought of doing it. I know a gal who dumped me as a friend, because I was "dragging her down" and I remeber this conversation vividly to this day. But I appreciated her directness and I told her I hoped she finds whats she looking for. This same girl wound up committing suicide two months later. Bullying and social dynamics are interesting. In my case what did not kill me made me stronger. But it also made me cynical of people and their "good intentions' and very observant on power motives.

[valis2.livejournal.com]

been there and done that. the bus was the absolute worse.

It was hellish. Every morning I spent waiting for it in agony. I didn't want to wake up in the morning because I knew I'd have to get on the bus.

I tore a piece of pleather from the seat on my last bus ride. I still have it.

I also got a little perspective...I started clock watching and focusing on the future.

I lacked perspective. I had no idea that it could end--it just seemed to drag on forever.

People are horrified when kids took guns to school and used them on fellow students, but there some us in society who know why they did. It's just that back in the 80s we never thought of doing it.

I had so many elaborate fantasies that my future self would travel back in time and show up and scare the hell out of all of them. At the same time, I was afraid that my future self wouldn't really be that scary. lol.

I know a gal who dumped me as a friend, because I was "dragging her down" and I remeber this conversation vividly to this day. But I appreciated her directness and I told her I hoped she finds whats she looking for. This same girl wound up committing suicide two months later.

Oh god, that's so very awful.

Bullying and social dynamics are interesting. In my case what did not kill me made me stronger. But it also made me cynical of people and their "good intentions' and very observant on power motives.

Yes, they really are fascinating. I am still interested in how bullying works, and how people deal with it or don't deal with it, and what happens to both bullies and the bullied.

[sassyinkpen.livejournal.com]

Wow - I totally could have written this post. We moved right before I started high school so I got a fresh start too, although I didn't have the great realization you did. I was lucky enough to meet some decent kids over the summer so I wasn't entirely alone when I started school.

Then I moved again after HS and got a job at a Burger King where I got bullied all over again - badly. I was never so glad as when I switched stores.

I still get that feeling sometimes too, but I think that thing that's helped me the most is finding out just HOW MANY people have been through the same thing. It wasn't just me - I'm NOT that big a loser.

Thanks for sharing

[valis2.livejournal.com]

Wow - I totally could have written this post. We moved right before I started high school so I got a fresh start too, although I didn't have the great realization you did. I was lucky enough to meet some decent kids over the summer so I wasn't entirely alone when I started school.

I was so excited about going to the new high school. So very excited. It did turn out to be a very good thing, honestly, and it sounds like it was that for you, too.

Then I moved again after HS and got a job at a Burger King where I got bullied all over again - badly. I was never so glad as when I switched stores.

Wow, that is horrible! I can't even imagine getting bullied in the workplace--that must have been absolutely traumatic.

I still get that feeling sometimes too, but I think that thing that's helped me the most is finding out just HOW MANY people have been through the same thing. It wasn't just me - I'm NOT that big a loser.

Yeah, it's shared between a lot of people. Every adapts in a different way, it seems, but it does feel so much better to know that we're not alone!

Thanks for commenting!

[sara-merry99.livejournal.com]

The only advice my mother ever gave me when I was being teased and picked on (though I wouldn't call it bullying in my case) was to "rise above it" and "ignore them". Even when I told her that didn't work she never did anything or gave me any other recourse.

Yes, Momma, lesson learned: I can't try to stop or change situations I find difficult, unpleasant, or hateful; I just have to endure until they end (at the whim of other people).

I'm always stunned by the people who look back on high school or jr. high as some golden age in their lives. They *suck*.

Shitty ass lesson.

[sassyinkpen.livejournal.com]

My mom's advice was "just ignore them, if they can't get a rise out of you they'll quit bothering" also.

You know what happened? I spent a whole detention getting slapped in the head repeatedly while trying to do my homework. By a girl who was rollerskating in circles around the room - man, I wish I'd had the guts to just stick my foot out once...

[jaelle-n-gilla.livejournal.com]

That's a really touching story. Touching is not the word I'm looking for. Never mind. I've known kids who were teased and bullied like that and, yes, they always had something - mostly the lack of social skills - that made them a target. And adapting to social rules (even the weird ones of teens) is a process of growing up. We've all done it. You've had the hardest way, but you managed and that's not something you should call a mixed bag. It's what makes you what you are, and you did it out of your own self reflection. That's quite a feat!
Does it sound pathetic when I say I'm proud to know you? But I do!

[valis2.livejournal.com]

I've known kids who were teased and bullied like that and, yes, they always had something - mostly the lack of social skills - that made them a target. And adapting to social rules (even the weird ones of teens) is a process of growing up. We've all done it.

Exactly right. And most people have the ability to read social cues, and understand the nonverbal signals that other people are giving off. I was lacking in that regard, and I'd interacted with very few people and it's rather a difficult thing to overcome at first, especially when you don't have the natural understanding of it.

You've had the hardest way, but you managed and that's not something you should call a mixed bag. It's what makes you what you are, and you did it out of your own self reflection.

Honestly, it was either do it, or get swallowed by fear and unhappiness. I had a great motivator--the desire to be accepted and liked. And I was very lucky that I managed it. I know some people don't.

Does it sound pathetic when I say I'm proud to know you? But I do!

Aw, that's so sweet! Thank you! *hugs*

[gmonkey42.livejournal.com]

I fully expect those I meet to dislike me or not want to talk to me.

I have noticed that! And I feel so bad for you, that you think I don't like you and it's hard for me to express to people that I do like them, which just compounds the problem. I do like you! You are one of my closest online friends and I wish we lived near each other so we could be close irl friends!

OK, no virtual hugs ;) But here's a post I wrote after reading the Jezebel article, FWIW http://gmonkey42.livejournal.com/667108.html

[valis2.livejournal.com]

I have noticed that! And I feel so bad for you, that you think I don't like you and it's hard for me to express to people that I do like them, which just compounds the problem. I do like you! You are one of my closest online friends and I wish we lived near each other so we could be close irl friends!

Aww!! That really is so sweet and makes me glow. Thank you for that! When I first met you irl, I thought, holy cow, she's so incredibly cool and I was just...well, nervous, actually! And as I got to know you I liked you more and more, and there was that stupid voice in my head, "Well, she's too cool to like you." heh.

It does interest me that you picked up on it--I often wonder about what I transmit, as I am so often unaware of my body language.

In fact, I was once at a party, flirting with a guy like mad, and then the next day talked to one of my best friends (she was at the party) and said, "Do you think he'll want my number?"

And she stared at me and said, "Are you serious? You hated him. It was obvious."

So yeah, my body language = FTL.

Anyway, I think you're awesome and I'm so glad that we're friends, and now I'm totally bummed that we don't live near each other. ha! *sneaks in a hug*

[ms-hecubus.livejournal.com]

I've already started to teach Delia how to stand up for herself because she's a very cautious child. I can see that she'll let people walk all over her if she's not taught to stand up for herself. She doesn't understand why kids won't share or push her out of the way. Unless they're physically hurting her I won't step in though because I've seen too many moms on the playground run over and try to make other kids be nice to their own. That does nothing but paint a bigger target on the kid's back! You can't scold other kids into being nice. All you can do is try to give your own child the social skills they'll need.

Anyhow, I can see it working. Delia is more likely to push back if a kid tries to shove her off the toy and she'll go up to other kids to confront them to get her toy back. It doesn't always work (little kids don't always pay much attention to one another) but she has to try. She has to learn how to relate to other kids and fit in with the crowd. I really believe that's key, you know. A kid has to know how to fit in before they can stand out. I think that's what kept me from getting bullied. I was teased for being weird, sure, but no one tortured me. For the most part I was pretty well accepted by my peers.

[gmonkey42.livejournal.com]

You can't scold other kids into being nice. All you can do is try to give your own child the social skills they'll need.

Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. It seems like so many parents think their only options are to give unhelpful, cliché advice like "just ignore it" or to overprotect like crazy. There is a third option! To actually help the child develop social skills!

[sigune.livejournal.com]

I've never had it as bad as you, but your story sounds familiar enough. The thing I hate most about the bullying is that it has had such a profound impact on my life and on the way I perceive myself. I have so very little confidence when in social situations and easily think that people are attacking me, even if they aren't. When I was a child and being picked on, I was small - my classmates would always use a diminutive form of my name. 'Thanks' to the bullying, I have been feeling small ever since.

In the meantime, I have discovered that a lot of wonderful people that I know were once bullied. It's hard for me to understand, because they are great - kind, talented and lovable.

I know you are not asking for hugs, but - I am so sorry this was done to you. It makes me so angry. Pointlessly angry, because it's not going to change anything, but ... you know.

[valis2.livejournal.com]

The thing I hate most about the bullying is that it has had such a profound impact on my life and on the way I perceive myself. I have so very little confidence when in social situations and easily think that people are attacking me, even if they aren't. When I was a child and being picked on, I was small - my classmates would always use a diminutive form of my name.

Yes, that was exactly what I've been trying to work through myself--how has this bullying impacted me? How am I different because of it? And I'm just beginning to understand how deeply this affects me. It's eye-opening to think about how the bullying began and how it ran its course.

In the meantime, I have discovered that a lot of wonderful people that I know were once bullied. It's hard for me to understand, because they are great - kind, talented and lovable.

I have much the same result for anyone I know who was bullied--I get so upset! But for myself, I kind of mentally shrug and it seems understandable--which is completely related to my low self-esteem, I'm certain.

I know you are not asking for hugs, but - I am so sorry this was done to you. It makes me so angry. Pointlessly angry, because it's not going to change anything, but ... you know.

Aw, thanks, I appreciate that muchly. *sneaks in a hug*

PS: You rock so much.

[valis2.livejournal.com]

It really did suck, and I still recall the line, "They wouldn't pick on you if they didn't like you."

That is the absolute stupidest thing I've ever heard. It makes me gnash my teeth just to think about it. I think I have heard it before, but that doesn't make it less stupid. And anyone who has ever been bullied understands completely how ridiculous it is.

Just ask yourself this: All those kids that found it absolutely necessary to tease and torment you all those years-- where are they at now? What's become of them? How are their lives any better than yours?

heh. Yeah, I do wonder, a little, but then again--childhood is a distant country, in some ways, and I'm sure some of them are now great people, and some of them still suck, and some of them are reg'lar folks. The girl in the article clearly had some sort of breakthrough upon talking to one of her tormentors; I don't think I care about any of them enough to find them, much less want a breakthrough. In fact, I already had my breakthrough, I think. So I just shrug and keep going my way. I don't really have any elaborate revenge fantasy anymore, I think. It's mostly faded, except for some of the leftover self-esteem issues and the vulnerability.

*hugs in return*

[catsintheattic.livejournal.com]

I know bullying as a first hand experience in second and third grade, and then, later again, at the age of eleven or twelve, by the same kids, as a part of a camp for children. They had decided that I was wrong (I used better words, I was a little shy, the usual stuff), and then, after I made the mistake of becoming better in class than the little queen who ruled, the hunting season had been opened. I remember incidents of being spat on, and being ridiculed, and I remember wanting nothing but to walk away and never come back. Of course, being the dutiful student I was, that never was an option. My mother defended me back then. But on the other hand, she turned a blind eye to the situation in the camp (because this has been the best time of her youth). I tried to hide a lot from my parents, not because they didn't care, but because they cared too much. And they would always assume that I'd done something wrong, that I was being socially awkward, leaving me with the impression that it was all my fault. So basically, I tried to function intellectually, and hide my misery from them. I started hiding things that would make them unhappy since kindergarten, so by the time I was bullied, I had built up quite the expertise.

Every time I went to a new school, I thought that this would be the last time to be different, a new me. Someone who would finally function socially. And because I was very good at school and went to schools were being good was accepted, things were better. I never was the most popular person, but I was accepted by most people, and the others and I ignored each other. And yet I still remember my thoughts when I started uni: this is my last chance at being normal.

Well ... I guess that today, most people who meet me wouldn't suspect that I'd been that girl. I still know that girl, know that she is a part of me who taught me something about compassion for people who are holding the short end of the stick. And she also taught me that I'm strong enough to can find my way out of every misery, that my life won't be ruled or ruined by others. I admire her for her stubbornness not to give in to the demands of others, but that she decided that she alone would be allowed to define her rules to live by. That awkward, insecure girl had the heart of a warrior. And while I wish her youth had been lighter, less problematic, I'm damn proud of her.

I trained myself not to rely on others for most things, and most of all, not to rely on anyone for my emotional needs. I'm glad that today, I have enough friends (some of them here in fandom) who taught me that I can rely on them, that it's all right to need someone without feeling stupid or vulnerable. I have been in relationships where emotional trust worked, so I know that this is something that exists. Right now, I live alone, and I know that with every year that passes it is harder for me to fall in love. Why bother, if the outcome is so fragile?

And as the godmother of a twelve-year-old I try to make him see what he shouldn't do to others. So far, it's looking good.

This is my story, and since you said at the end of your post that sharing similar stories makes it feel more bearable, I thought that it would be all right to share the story with you. So, thank you for sharing your story, and thank you for listening to mine. And I send you hugs, because it feels like the right thing to do after sharing. *hugs* &hearts

[valis2.livejournal.com]

I remember wanting nothing but to walk away and never come back. Of course, being the dutiful student I was, that never was an option.

Yes, same here. I did want to stay home as much as possible, and I was so unhappy about going to school, but I did still want to do well and I wanted to write and be left alone, and I hoped for that every day. There were a few classes that were oases of calm and I enjoyed those very much, but most classes were awful. And, as you say, I was dutiful and I wanted to do well so I couldn't imagine not going to classes.

And because I was very good at school and went to schools were being good was accepted, things were better. I never was the most popular person, but I was accepted by most people, and the others and I ignored each other.

I had that sort of reaction as well in high school. Because it was a private school with the emphasis on going to college, most people wanted to be there, and it was much more of an educational environment. I was never very popular, but I definitely felt tolerated and--to a certain degree--accepted.

And she also taught me that I'm strong enough to can find my way out of every misery, that my life won't be ruled or ruined by others. I admire her for her stubbornness not to give in to the demands of others, but that she decided that she alone would be allowed to define her rules to live by. That awkward, insecure girl had the heart of a warrior. And while I wish her youth had been lighter, less problematic, I'm damn proud of her.

As well you should be! That is definitely a huge accomplishment. I only wish that you didn't have to learn it that way!

'm glad that today, I have enough friends (some of them here in fandom) who taught me that I can rely on them, that it's all right to need someone without feeling stupid or vulnerable. I have been in relationships where emotional trust worked, so I know that this is something that exists.

Yes, fandom has been a wonderful place for me as well--I've made so many friends and I have learned so much and I feel like I've really grown as a person (and a writer). It is an extraordinary place, and I think many of us are digital refugees.

Right now, I live alone, and I know that with every year that passes it is harder for me to fall in love. Why bother, if the outcome is so fragile?

Ah, love, which is an entirely different post, lol. I wish you luck with that--and it's never as bleak as it seems, that's the one thing I learned. Even if you're not with someone, you can spend that time wisely and learn to love yourself more, which will help you so much when you do meet someone. *hugs*

This is my story, and since you said at the end of your post that sharing similar stories makes it feel more bearable, I thought that it would be all right to share the story with you. So, thank you for sharing your story, and thank you for listening to mine. And I send you hugs, because it feels like the right thing to do after sharing. *hugs* ♥

Thank you so much for being courageous enough to share your story--I treasure such courage. Thank you for being my friend! *hugs in return* :)

[alabastard.livejournal.com]

Droxy: The bullies really want to destroy your light.

This is exactly it. As the foreign, odd kid, in America at 14, I faced high school with braces/headgear, a "funny" accent, and punk rock hair and "English" clothes, and in that first year I was terrorized by the football team, ending up hung out the 3rd floor window. After this I began studying Kung Fu, not just for the physical defence, which was handy enough, but for the inner calm, so that they could never destroy my light again, and they did not once they saw they could not. It's been invaluable in life, when faced with people like this, and since those school days I've been fascinated with the lengths people will go to to get my attention when they can't get to me the traditional bully way. The saddest thing to me is a former bullied person who perpetuates this behaviour as an adult, much like some would perpetuate their childhood abuses ... who doesn't see the connection, or anything wrong, with his/her own smear campaigns and terroristic acts, but cowards do what cowards do, and eventually life enforces the lessons they would not learn.

[valis2.livejournal.com]

Anything different automatically stands out, and then the wolves rush in. Children are always poised to see the strange; it's like they can find your every weakness. And when you have a whole group of them--well, a pecking order gets established and those who aren't conforming are the last in the line. I can only imagine how awful it must have been for you, and I'm so sorry that it happened!

The saddest thing to me is a former bullied person who perpetuates this behaviour as an adult, much like some would perpetuate their childhood abuses ... who doesn't see the connection, or anything wrong, with his/her own smear campaigns and terroristic acts, but cowards do what cowards do, and eventually life enforces the lessons they would not learn.

I often do hope that karma really exists, and people do reap what they sow. I'm not certain that it does. Or maybe it just doesn't work quickly enough for my tastes, lol.

Thank you for sharing your experiences. I know that can't have been easy.

[logospilgrim.livejournal.com]

My dearest one, I am so sorry to know that you suffered such cruelty... You know, every time I had the good fortune of seeing you at a convention, what I thought was that you were so kind, and so cool (as in, you know, like the Fonz!).

I was bullied too, but nothing like what you experienced. I went to a private high school, with nuns. I was small, and in the beginning I was very shy... I spent many lunch periods in the library. I remember one time, when I returned to my desk, I saw that someone had written on the blackboard, "Sister [my name] is requested in room [whatever it was]." Being compared to a nun, of course, was meant as an insult (oh, irony, I was not even contemplating monasticism then!), like being told you were the worst possible kind of loser and pathetic. I did nothing, but when a loved one saw the words, she was angry and erased them.

I suppose the bullies knew me better than I knew myself! Mostly, I felt awkward. One time, a teacher made a student move her desk next to mine, because she was rowdy and I was quiet *laughs* The student was not happy at first, but then she was friendly... Ah, goodness.

I can tell you that one time, I was with a group of persons who were talking negatively about a girl who had bullied me, and I agreed that she was mean, or whatever. Which they proceeded to tell her, unbeknownst to me. So she was sitting at her desk, surrounded by said persons, and told me that she knew I had said unkind things about her, and what did I have to say for myself? I just blinked and then softly confessed, "Yes, it's true... I did say that. But it was because you'd been mean to me." This was followed the sound of jaws dropping. They had clearly expected me to deny it all, and another exclaimed, "That was honest!" So, yes, once a nun, always a nun ;-) I had a program of gentle yielding. I once was sitting at a desk, and another girl told me to move, because she wanted to sit there; so I earnestly said that I was sorry, "I didn't know," and moved while she stared, somewhat dumbfounded. At the end of the year, I found an apology note from her in my desk, for all the mean things she had done to me, and I still remember the shock and joy I felt...

People whose behavior is unfortunate have lost their way a little (or a lot), and in youth it can be worse, because at that point they have barely begun walking, and often do not know what their path is.

But to this day I am still very, very sad when people do not wish to be friends or make fun of me.

Anyway, I have rambled and I am not sure if any of this was helpful!

I just want to tell you again, most beloved, than when we were chatting in the restaurant that time, and you were telling me about beads and everything, I felt so happy that you were talking with me; it was a privilege. I never would have imagined that you did not know what was obvious to me: you are neat and lovely and generous, a beautiful soul, someone whose company delighted me. I think that the things you went through shaped you into a deeply caring and insightful soul.

*very tender robed embrace*

[valis2.livejournal.com]

My dearest one, I am so sorry to know that you suffered such cruelty... You know, every time I had the good fortune of seeing you at a convention, what I thought was that you were so kind, and so cool (as in, you know, like the Fonz!).

Oh, when I was a kid I loved him so very much, and always wished he would fall in love with me. (Of course, I always wanted him to pummel a few bullies for me, too, lol!)

I've never thought of myself as cool, so this is surprising and very nice! Thank you!!

I had a program of gentle yielding. I once was sitting at a desk, and another girl told me to move, because she wanted to sit there; so I earnestly said that I was sorry, "I didn't know," and moved while she stared, somewhat dumbfounded. At the end of the year, I found an apology note from her in my desk, for all the mean things she had done to me, and I still remember the shock and joy I felt...

That is such a kindhearted way of behaving, and so civilized, and so very you. I'm very sorry that you had to have difficult experiences; I wish your path was swept clean of thistles and lined with bluebells. Unfortunately, the world grows thistles quite regularly, and bluebells scarcely. *hugs*

Anyway, I have rambled and I am not sure if any of this was helpful!

It was helpful, and courageous! Thank you for sharing it!

I just want to tell you again, most beloved, than when we were chatting in the restaurant that time, and you were telling me about beads and everything, I felt so happy that you were talking with me; it was a privilege. I never would have imagined that you did not know what was obvious to me: you are neat and lovely and generous, a beautiful soul, someone whose company delighted me. I think that the things you went through shaped you into a deeply caring and insightful soul.

Oh, wow, I'm blushing now. I felt privileged to talk to you, and I felt like I was a stammering idiot! hee! I'm so glad that it was a good experience. I was quite delighted to have a conversation with you, most definitely.

*very tender robed embrace*

*exuberant leonine hugs in return*

[marginaliana]

I always find it hard to read posts like this, for a variety of reasons. But I wanted to tell you that I read it.

It makes me think sometimes that there is just this deep genetic divide between the people like "us" who feel things deeply and the people like "them" who don't. Some people seem to have this instinctive ability to not take themselves or other people seriously, and in some ways I think it's an asset, because those people don't get bullied. But in other ways I (perhaps selfishly) think it's better to be like us, people who are creators and thinkers and makers. And obviously the world needs both types of people, but I wish it didn't have to be such that there was such a disconnect between the two groups.

[valis2.livejournal.com]

I always find it hard to read posts like this, for a variety of reasons. But I wanted to tell you that I read it.

Thank you for reading--that means a lot to me! I know it was pretty long and convoluted, and the subject matter isn't the cheeriest.

It makes me think sometimes that there is just this deep genetic divide between the people like "us" who feel things deeply and the people like "them" who don't. Some people seem to have this instinctive ability to not take themselves or other people seriously, and in some ways I think it's an asset, because those people don't get bullied. But in other ways I (perhaps selfishly) think it's better to be like us, people who are creators and thinkers and makers. And obviously the world needs both types of people, but I wish it didn't have to be such that there was such a disconnect between the two groups.

That is such a thought-provoking way of looking at this issue; and it makes so much sense. I often feel like my hypersensitivity is both a blessing and a curse. I get excited and happy by the stupidest, smallest things, and that can be such fun, but by the same token, I'm hurt by the strangest, smallest things. It's definitely not a state of being for the faint of heart.

I think people who are a little more removed from their emotions have a measure of calm, where they can talk to someone without internalizing everything that's said. My sister and I often talk about how when we listen to people, we kind of feel what they're talking about; it's a very visceral thing. Which is why when someone makes a rude joke about me, I almost feel like it's happening, and it just gets right to the heart of me. Which is probably why I react so strongly. *nodnod*

[catyah.livejournal.com]

I actually feel a little guilty/funny for posting this, when you've already heard my stories so many times of my own experiences, but you asked to hear them, and so here it is.

I was definitely teased, too -- the worst of it was in 5th & 6th grade, from a girl who was clearly the queen of the class and the boys who flocked around here, trying desperately to get a laugh or even a look from her. In junior high, I got knocked down once in the hall -- shoved into a brick wall, but a much beloved teacher came to help me to the nurse's office.

The worst part was the school bus, especially in elementary school. After a few bad experiences there, I learned to get the seat behind the bus driver or kitty-corner from him. I also made a point of making friends with the bus driver each year. They usually kept things from getting too bad for me.

And there was a counseling "group" that I belonged to in junior high -- even if I never said much in the group meetings and the kids in it never bothered to socialize with me outside of group (but they had their own demons to deal with, so I didn't mind much), I felt accepted there.

For me, going home at the end of the day was sometimes just as bad as going to school, unfortunately. One experience I remember most vividly was in junior high on the bus. I was late to the bus in the afternoon, so the front seats were already taken by younger kids. I had an armful of books for homework, and the other kids around me were shoving each other around as they got off the bus as the various stops. The point of this game seemed to be to try to push various boys into my seat, to play "ha, you're in love with 'Catyah', look how close they're sitting, ha ha ha."

They were getting more and more wild, and I held up my book to try to shield myself from them, since they were pushing and shoving each other. Of course, one of the boys, a neighbor from across the street, fell against me, and one of my books hit me square in the mouth. I ended up with a fat lip and started to cry. At that point, the bus stopped at our stop. I was bawling pretty hard by the time I got into my house, and my mom demanded to know what happened. It came out about the neighbor boy getting shoved against me, and my mom made an angry call to the boy's mother.

I still remember, a half hour later, they came over, and the boy's mom had him by the arm. He looked embarrassed, but defiant -- his mom told my mom that it wasn't HIS fault that I'd gotten a fat lip. After all, I'd been holding the book over my face, and he didn't get knocked against *me*, he got knocked against my *book*.

My mom had heard enough -- I was made to apologize to him for falsely accusing him of hurting me, and after they left, I got yelled at for making up stories and the familiar refrain that I got when I complained of being teased: "If you'd act *normal*, this wouldn't happen." "If you didn't always have your nose stuck in a book..." "They only tease you because you act so stupid."

So I didn't really complain much to anyone about being teased because of that, and gradually became so quiet and mousy, scuttling along the wall so nobody would notice me, the teasing died down. I was no fun to tease, because I'd already been beaten down enough. (Though you can bet that everybody on the bus got a good laugh over my getting in trouble for "hitting myself with a book", and the word spread around school pretty fast.)

I wish I'd learned the lessons you did about not acting like a victim, but it makes me so very sad to know that you suffered so much in school, too.

[valis2.livejournal.com]

I actually feel a little guilty/funny for posting this, when you've already heard my stories so many times of my own experiences, but you asked to hear them, and so here it is.

Don't feel guilty or funny--it's courageous of you to post this, and I never heard this story before, btw.

I was definitely teased, too -- the worst of it was in 5th & 6th grade, from a girl who was clearly the queen of the class and the boys who flocked around here, trying desperately to get a laugh or even a look from her. In junior high, I got knocked down once in the hall -- shoved into a brick wall, but a much beloved teacher came to help me to the nurse's office.

Oh, that's awful. And sometimes it really does seem to generate from someone who is the "queen," whether self-appointed or not. In my case, though, it was just all my fellow classmates.

The worst part was the school bus, especially in elementary school. After a few bad experiences there, I learned to get the seat behind the bus driver or kitty-corner from him. I also made a point of making friends with the bus driver each year. They usually kept things from getting too bad for me.

Ah, yes, that was my method as well. It didn't work in the mornings because, as I said, I was the second to last stop. But in the evenings, I would get into that seat and sit with my books sandwiched in between my back and the wall of the bus. Any other way invited them to be stolen from me.

Your story is so very sad and awful, and I'm not surprised that your mom reacted that way, though I'm absolutely horrified that she did. You poor thing--to have such an experience--it must have left deep scars. And oh god, the hitting-yourself-with-your-own-book...I can only imagine how long that went on and how awful it was.

*huge hugs* I'm sorry that you had such difficulties. I wish things could have been easier for you--hell, for all of us.

I wish I'd learned the lessons you did about not acting like a victim, but it makes me so very sad to know that you suffered so much in school, too.

I wish I had learned those lessons better, and earlier. I still don't understand fully--but fortunately my joking manner seems to help my in most situations. I'm just glad that I managed to get through high school without much more bullying, though I did get a little from bandmates.

*unlurking*

[mimbulus.livejournal.com]

This.

And the link, and some of the comments.

Change the names or initials, change the locations, and here's my outside-of-home childhood all over again.

Getting spit on (only once, but it's one of THE traumatic event from 3rd grade), never being picked by a team in PE - I was always the last kid to get "picked". The humiliation of having to stand there, waiting for the team leader to decide which bottom-of-the-barrel choice between loser kid #1 or #2 they want less and then picking the other one.

girls snapping at my bra in 7th grade or grabbing my chest, a "friend" telling everything I confided in her to her horrible clique friends just to go one more step up in the social ladder, and then, years later, having to endure my mom talk of her dearest new friend at work - this same social-ladder-climber, until one day I told her that I couldn't care less about her workplace friendships, but please don't ever talk about that girl again.

Getting things stolen from me, I went to a party once, in fifth grade. Two boys called me to go over to where they were lurking. I was so naive, gullible, so desperate to be liked, that I went. And they shoved one of those round toilet brushes in my mouth. And then the girl who was hosting the party asked me to please not tell my parents why they were picking me up early. I didn't, but then my mom noticed I was angry and moody and I told her.

Yeah, my mom was also one of those who always gave the "just ignore them and they'll eventually get bored" advice. But to her credit, if something *really bad* happened, she went to the parents of the children involved and Did Something.

I was also constantly trying to understand why I was always bullied. We lived, from kindergarten to high school in 4 different cities, including one in a different continent, and 7 different schools, and I rarely found any friends. Only in high school I managed to find a group of friends I sort of tagged along with (to? after? I was never really a part of that group), and most of all: get ignored. I learned the wonder of taking a book with me and reading it in the classroom during the break. I learned how to NEVER EVER do a group project with a group.

I came to the conclusion that something was wrong with me, and this question still bugs me, because obviously the kids themselves never answered it, and my oh-so-helpful mom was always like, "maybe it's because you're different from them."

I was never taught how to fit in better. Kids - and adults too - don't like people who are different. Sometimes I tried to change - talk like they do, dress like they do, or some other superficial change, but those things never really help, because you're still the outsider-city-girl, or the girl with the weird accent and complete lack of street-smarts.

I talked to my mom the other day about the period in 4th-5th grade in Brazil when I spent whole recesses just crying at the window and she said she never knew of this. Teachers are horrible people and I have very few examples to the contrary. One of them was so gracious and thoughtful to make some "funny" rhyme-y joke with my last name, and the kids spent the next 3 years making fun of it too.

Some of the reasons why I don't want kids is: kids are cruel. I might not be able to teach my kids how to stand up to bullies. And having to deal with 8 year-old monsters again is really not my idea of fun.

One of my biggest fantasies during my entire childhood was my cousins (who are 7 years older than me and my bullies) coming to kick some bully ass.

After watching that one episode of Sliders, as an adult (sort of) where they reach a paralel world that's still in the 80's, and Quinn teaches the kid version of himself how to defend himself from his own bullies, that became a sort of belated fantasy of sorts: going to the past to teach myself how to fight back, or else being taught by my adult self. Whichever POV works *g*

I know where your post comes from - it really isn't a Poor Me sort of thing, it's like you said: wanting to process and understand all of this.

Re: *unlurking*

[valis2.livejournal.com]

I was also constantly trying to understand why I was always bullied. We lived, from kindergarten to high school in 4 different cities, including one in a different continent, and 7 different schools, and I rarely found any friends. Only in high school I managed to find a group of friends I sort of tagged along with (to? after? I was never really a part of that group), and most of all: get ignored. I learned the wonder of taking a book with me and reading it in the classroom during the break. I learned how to NEVER EVER do a group project with a group.

I really do think that high school can be the make or break point. If you're being bullied up until HS, it seems like once you hit HS it either gets worse or better. I was so lucky that it got better, and that I found friends.

I talked to my mom the other day about the period in 4th-5th grade in Brazil when I spent whole recesses just crying at the window and she said she never knew of this.

I'm sure if you ask my parents, they would vaguely recall me being a little unhappy, but that would probably be it. My mom might remember the bullying. I'm not certain. I'm sure they don't really know how bad it was. It wasn't physical, usually, but it was constant and draining, and it lasted so long.

Some of the reasons why I don't want kids is: kids are cruel. I might not be able to teach my kids how to stand up to bullies. And having to deal with 8 year-old monsters again is really not my idea of fun.

Husband and I have been talking about having kids, but it scares me so much that they might get bullied. I really have no idea how to teach assertiveness. I'm afraid that I would teach passiveness only.

One of my biggest fantasies during my entire childhood was my cousins (who are 7 years older than me and my bullies) coming to kick some bully ass.

Yeah, I had tons of different variations on that theme. My favorite TV show characters, the GI Joe team, lol, anyone who could "rescue" me.

After watching that one episode of Sliders, as an adult (sort of) where they reach a paralel world that's still in the 80's, and Quinn teaches the kid version of himself how to defend himself from his own bullies, that became a sort of belated fantasy of sorts: going to the past to teach myself how to fight back, or else being taught by my adult self. Whichever POV works *g*

That was a constant fantasy of mine until one day I realized that Adult Me probably wouldn't be any better at doing anything than Pre-Teen me.

I know where your post comes from - it really isn't a Poor Me sort of thing, it's like you said: wanting to process and understand all of this.

Thank you so much for responding and reading. It means a lot to me and I know how hard it must have been!

*unlurking* #2

[mimbulus.livejournal.com]

To the commenter whose son in first grade is being teased by other kids: Would some sort of martial-arts class be an option for him? (This comes from my own personal experience and thoughts that if I had known how to "hit back", I would've probably grown to be much more confident and assertive than I actually am. I'm slowly getting better at this, actually, but I wish I could've started learning all of it about 20 years ago)

Unlike the story in the link, I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive the bullies. Forget the names of most of them - yes, I have, but actually forgive and befriend them - no. Even though my adult, rational mind tells me that they were just children who didn't know any better.

But then another part of that same rational mind says, "No, I was a child the same age as them and I *did* know better and they should've known better too."

I always was, and still am, clueless about how to behave in social situations. Another reason, I guess, why I mostly tend to avoid them.

I'm always amazed when someone online says they like me, or declare openly that they're my friend, or that they actually continue to stay in touch with me even after so many stupid things I've said (or think I've said). One of the things that make the internet a safe place *for me* is that I know that here I don't get teased, made fun of or bullied. Here I'm accepted the way I am, embarrassing slip-ups, social awkwardness and all.

Re: *unlurking* #2

[gmonkey42.livejournal.com]

IMO martial arts classes are great for any kid, I can't recommend them highly enough. You do learn how to hurt people but you won't really be able to use it effectively until you've had at least a few years of training; by far the more important result of martial arts is that you become better able to avoid getting to the point where you'd need to hurt someone in the first place. It's like alabastard said, it's good knowing you have the physical skills but the self-confidence you gain is even more valuable.

[bell-witch.livejournal.com]

I cannot even begin to go into the bullying I had at school. It's amazing how so many of us went through hell and no one really did anything. Nowadays (at least where I live) they'd be worried someone might bring a gun to class. Okay, it's boys who do that and not girls, but still. My school system and my class was notorious for how nasty they were. One of the high school teachers came right out that first day and said not in her class.

She was a hardass teacher and I liked her. We learned stuff. I always learned stuff, though the paranoia lingers. That I had/have major depression (biochemical) that started when I hit puberty did not help matters. Adults don't understand Depression that requires medicine to do something about. They had no idea that I needed meds back then.

My mom thought I smoked pot. I have never even tried it. Did she ask me back then? Of course not. That would have been the responsible mom thing to do.

Once, when a couple of boys followed me home and got a little too handsy, I did end up telling the principal (on Monday, because they did it on a Friday) and the little punks were suspended for three days without the opportunity to make up lost work. In a school system that has a teacher or two that will give you an F if you miss even one homework assignment, that can be a big deal. They never bothered me again. If they'd been a bit older, it would have been (minor) criminal. But I do remember.

Blah, and I wasn't going to go into it.

[valis2.livejournal.com]

My school system and my class was notorious for how nasty they were. One of the high school teachers came right out that first day and said not in her class.

Wow, that's awesome! I'm impressed. Some of the teachers were really good about stopping it, or making the class so entertaining that people would forget about it until after. But some teachers weren't that great at it and there would be subtle bullying right during class. ugh.

My mom thought I smoked pot. I have never even tried it. Did she ask me back then? Of course not. That would have been the responsible mom thing to do.

Sometimes they really just don't know. It's kind of sad, but I think a lot of parents are just so full of their own issues and lives that it's hard to notice when the independent thing under your roof is going through something.

They never bothered me again.

Thank goodness for that. Seriously, I was always scared to death to mention it, because I was so afraid it would get worse. SO afraid. I think there was one situation where it escalated because I told on the person.

Thanks for sharing this--I know it couldn't have been easy.

[gmonkey42.livejournal.com]

Oh! I just thought of another very common and cruelly unhelpful thing clueless parents say to bullied kids:

"They're just jealous."

OH GOOD, THEN ALL I HAVE TO DO IS FAIL MORE AND THEY'RE SURE TO BE MY BFF, I'LL GET RIGHT ON THAT

[valis2.livejournal.com]

whut?!!! That is insane. OMG, that makes me even angrier than "just ignore them" because it's just so...spectacularly unhelpful.

[todayiamadaisy]

Oh, yes to all of this. In fact, yes to the comments as well. I was never physically bullied, and other people have far, far worse stories than me, but the constant psychological picking took its toll on my self-esteem. It's like an almost-healed bruise: most of the time it's fine, but every now and again something will poke it and make it sore again. After a while it becomes a nature/nurture debate: am I shy because I am and always have been, or is it something I learnt? I generally assume people don't notice or like me, and I often wonder if that becomes self-fulfilling.

I hope reading all these emotional comments isn't too draining. Find something cheerful to do afterwards!

[valis2.livejournal.com]

was never physically bullied, and other people have far, far worse stories than me, but the constant psychological picking took its toll on my self-esteem. It's like an almost-healed bruise: most of the time it's fine, but every now and again something will poke it and make it sore again.

Exactly. Even though I'm so far away from it now, it still is a part of me in this weird, unhealthy manner. I still have issues about people not liking me or, more probable, me thinking they don't like me. My self-esteem is not the greatest. It sometimes makes me sad. Thank goodness Husband is always warm and supportive.

I generally assume people don't notice or like me, and I often wonder if that becomes self-fulfilling.

YES. Me too. I always just expect to be the wallflower at a gathering. And if I become too outgoing at a party, I start looking around in fear, expecting somebody to take me down a peg.

[melusinahp.livejournal.com]

Thank you for the link to that story. It was all so familiar.

I feel very sad that the conclusion your own experience led you to was that -you- were the problem, not the bullies. You seemed to have felt that you needed to change yourself and conform in order to stop people tormenting you. You blamed yourself rather than the bullies. I find that incredibly upsetting.

The adults around you had a responsibility to make those children understand that no one needs to conform. The world is full of people with all different sorts of personalities and as long as no one is hurting any one else, they need to accept that and be kind.

[valis2.livejournal.com]

I feel very sad that the conclusion your own experience led you to was that -you- were the problem, not the bullies. You seemed to have felt that you needed to change yourself and conform in order to stop people tormenting you. You blamed yourself rather than the bullies. I find that incredibly upsetting.

My twelve-year-old self looked at the facts: I was being teased by a group of people who had nothing in common with the people before. Therefore the teasing had to come from myself. It was a horrible moment, and I felt that I had no choice. It was either change, or be eaten alive.

The adults around you had a responsibility to make those children understand that no one needs to conform. The world is full of people with all different sorts of personalities and as long as no one is hurting any one else, they need to accept that and be kind.

My parents despaired of getting me to do things that were more socially acceptable. I was a tomboy, and I hated most normal grooming procedures, lol. I was definitely a handful. I do have a lot of sympathy for them; trying to raise me must have been quite the chore at times.

[perverse-idyll.livejournal.com]

My dear, this just makes me quiver all over with protective outrage. I want to go back and befriend the junior high-schooler you were so that we could present a united front against the stupid assholes. It's not exactly safety in numbers, but having loyal friends at least provides a kind of haven and sometimes even the epiphany: I have found my people. Even if time changes everything and alliances eventually fall apart, it's the sense of belonging that matters and that can help us get through the mini-war zones.

My circumstances differ from yours in that school was perhaps the lesser of the two evils. I got bullied, but not quite as viciously as you did. My older sister was herself a bully and a bad girl, so her reputation preceded me. I inherited the contempt many adults (including teachers and counsellors) felt for her, but it's possible she may have had a street-cred side effect that kept me from really suffering at the hands of my peers. Or the fact that most of the bullying was confined to verbal ridicule and social ostracism as opposed to physical cruelty may have had nothing to do with her at all.

Our parents were alcoholics who only socialized with other alcoholics, so my siblings and I never brought friends home. We were all socially inept at the most elementary level, which had a permanent crippling effect on my younger brother's sense of self-worth (I can't prove it, but I'm pretty sure he was bullied far more systematically than I was, and emerged far more damaged. He's a nicer person than I am, and in this instance the fact that I can be ferociously detached and cerebral was a saving grace. He had/has no such defense). Plus my father and my sister were holy terrors at home. Ironically, dealing with rage-a-holics in the family provided me with a certain amount of pre-fabricated armor for facing fuckwits at school. I hated them, but they never found a way to humiliate me. (That was my sister's province; she's still the emotional sadist in the family.)

Also, cliché as it sounds, most of my high school's bullies were cowards. If I didn't cry or buckle in short order - if I made it appear that I would actually fight back - there'd be a stand-off because none of them wanted to be the first to risk physical injury.

I was lucky enough to have a couple of close friends. We knew we were the outcasts. My friends regretted their lowly status to varying degrees, but not me. I already knew I was destined to be a bookworm. Besides, the suburb we lived in was one big dysfunctional soap opera. I looked around and saw nothing I wanted to do or be; I knew I'd be leaving after graduation.

Years later, at university, one of the former bullies approached me on campus and basically blurted her life story by way of apology. Her own private life, needless to say, had been miserable (horrible stepfather, sexual threats and the like). She knew she'd been an asshole, and she made the effort to tell me why. I liked her for it. Years after that, another bully from the same crowd became a customer at my store, and she turned out to be a likable character. It was a relief to have that perspective restored; to see them as people rather than as self-centered, empty-headed predators.

I still fail at small talk, and I'll never be gregarious or completely at ease in a crowd. I suspect that to this day there's a part of me, a legacy of those times, that trusts no one and is never surprised by the slipshod moral choices of human beings (myself included). I was a sweet-natured, somewhat timid child who was forced to become closed-off and cold-blooded, and I'll never entirely be free of that because it's part of what helped me to survive.

So, yes, adding one more bit of testimony to the saga of bullies and their ubiquitous presence, especially in our school system.

*BIG HUGS* Those aren't hugs of obligation, btw. They're hugs combined of equal parts Thank God you made it and They don't deserve you anyhow.

[valis2.livejournal.com]

I want to go back and befriend the junior high-schooler you were so that we could present a united front against the stupid assholes. It's not exactly safety in numbers, but having loyal friends at least provides a kind of haven and sometimes even the epiphany: I have found my people.

Aw, that is the sweetest thing ever and warms my heart. That was one of the worst parts of the whole thing; I just could not find a consistent friend. At first I had a few, but they melted away, and those in the D&D club were all boys and they never ended up being great friends with me, sadly enough. I was so looking forward to it, too.

My circumstances differ from yours in that school was perhaps the lesser of the two evils. I got bullied, but not quite as viciously as you did. My older sister was herself a bully and a bad girl, so her reputation preceded me. I inherited the contempt many adults (including teachers and counsellors) felt for her, but it's possible she may have had a street-cred side effect that kept me from really suffering at the hands of my peers. Or the fact that most of the bullying was confined to verbal ridicule and social ostracism as opposed to physical cruelty may have had nothing to do with her at all.

You know, the level of bullying does make a difference in some ways, but not in others--I think it's deeply scarring psychologically regardless of whether it's physical or mental or emotional. And wow, it sounds like you had a very difficult childhood and I couldn't be more sorry about it. These stories are hard to read! I feel such empathy for people going through difficulties like these.

Also, cliché as it sounds, most of my high school's bullies were cowards. If I didn't cry or buckle in short order - if I made it appear that I would actually fight back - there'd be a stand-off because none of them wanted to be the first to risk physical injury.

Sadly, I think most of the bullies were hoping for a physical injury so they could turn me in. ugh.

I was lucky enough to have a couple of close friends. We knew we were the outcasts. My friends regretted their lowly status to varying degrees, but not me.

That really is a big help. I had no friends and I felt like a complete loser by the end, and I think that a friend would have changed things, at least a little.

She knew she'd been an asshole, and she made the effort to tell me why. I liked her for it.

That's interesting. I can't imagine any of my bullies coming up and saying anything like that; they were all pretty much so interchangeable and there were so many that I doubt that any of them even thinks of themselves as bullies, honestly. Even still, I'm not sure what my reaction would be. Gratitude? Respect? I think it will have to happen before I can tell, honestly.

I did meet a girl who let me sit next to her on the bus a few times, and I got to thank her for it, and that felt great.

I still fail at small talk, and I'll never be gregarious or completely at ease in a crowd. I suspect that to this day there's a part of me, a legacy of those times, that trusts no one and is never surprised by the slipshod moral choices of human beings (myself included). I was a sweet-natured, somewhat timid child who was forced to become closed-off and cold-blooded, and I'll never entirely be free of that because it's part of what helped me to survive.

Yes, I absolutely agree beyond a shadow of a doubt. This is how I feel as well. It's a mixed blessing; I became more socially adept, but at the cost of who I was, I think. I mean, I think I simply emphasized portions of my personality, but still, it was a change.

*BIG HUGS* Those aren't hugs of obligation, btw. They're hugs combined of equal parts Thank God you made it and They don't deserve you anyhow.

Awww! Thank you so much, and thank you for sharing this with me (and everyone). It takes a lot of courage, I know. *giant hugs*

[privatemaladict.livejournal.com]

You gotta love the "Ignore it and it'll go away" advice. Didn't work for me either. The bullying lessened only when I embraced my strangeness. I was an adult before I really figured out how to do that. I can even remember the specific incident - I mentioned a singer a liked in front of my brother and he started making fun of me in that small-time bullying way he has - like "Ugh, she's terrible! I can't believe you listen to that shit!" And instead of getting angry or embarrassed - as I always used to whenever somebody told me that something I liked wasn't cool, good or normal - I just said, "Actually, I think she's really good. I love her voice." It totally took the steam out of him. Suddenly, he had nowhere to go - he was the abnormal one with no taste, instead of me.

If only I'd been able to do that in high school! But I don't even know if it would work with kids. If I had any advice for kids who are getting bullied, I'd say that if somebody is making you feel small for who you are or what you're into, the problem is in them, not you. But that's easy to say from the comfort of adulthood. And of course, adult bullying has its own set of problems - for instance, most of the bullying I cop in my workplace is from people in positions of power above me, and much as I may realise they're arseholes, there's little I can do to defend myself without risking further problems.

[valis2.livejournal.com]

You gotta love the "Ignore it and it'll go away" advice. Didn't work for me either.

It's horrible advice. Really horrible advice. And it made things almost impossible for me. I still mark it down as the worst advice I've ever received.

And instead of getting angry or embarrassed - as I always used to whenever somebody told me that something I liked wasn't cool, good or normal - I just said, "Actually, I think she's really good. I love her voice." It totally took the steam out of him. Suddenly, he had nowhere to go - he was the abnormal one with no taste, instead of me.

heh. That is a good strategy! I applaud you for figuring it out.

If only I'd been able to do that in high school! But I don't even know if it would work with kids.

Yeah, me either. I'm not really quick-witted, honestly, and stuff like this is hard to adapt to, whereas some bullies pick up on stuff and can spin it super quickly. So I was never a good match for them.

But that's easy to say from the comfort of adulthood. And of course, adult bullying has its own set of problems - for instance, most of the bullying I cop in my workplace is from people in positions of power above me, and much as I may realise they're arseholes, there's little I can do to defend myself without risking further problems.

Oh yeah, I can only imagine how difficult that must be, especially when your job depends on it. *nodnod*

Thanks for commenting!

[iibnf.livejournal.com]

I had such a different experience, but I can emotionally connect. I have such an attraction for movies like 'Carrie' where the bullied girl gets her revenge. I will maniacally defend someone I see bullied - in fact I've stupidly got involved in way too many fights, online and off, because I can't stand by and let that kind of thing happen.

But that's because I see in me the desire to be the bully. I can easily pick the kid that's going to get hell. I can look at someone and think, 'yep, that's the one that's going to be torn apart'. I've had a couple of friends like that, you can smell victim on them. That victimness is intoxicating, and it can be very hard to pull back on that need to hurt and dominate. I've never done it, but I understand it.

I was always bigger, smarter, and utterly more indifferent to the other kids, so I never got any of that. Also, unlike your 'don't hit' parents, my father spent hours teaching me how to box, how to kick/bite/scratch or at least verbally eviscerate anyone who tried to hurt me. (Didn't work with my mother - the ultimate bully, but it gave me a MEAN right hook - no one ever messed with me twice).

I do have one bully in my adult life now. She's a friend of friends. Nearly everyone one of my friends hates her - they'll boycott social situations if she's there. I generally ignore her, or make the most viscous little comments to her when she starts up. I can't punch her - what's acceptable when you're a kid is illegal as an adult - but I can make her feel as small and bitter as she tries to make everyone else.

If we'd met as kids, I would have protected you, probably befriended you as the odd little weirdo who needed protection, my collection of odd weirdoes followed me everywhere, made me feel big and important, even if it wasn't a great type of friendship. But my protection would have been a hell of a lot meaner and more blood thirsty than anything the bullies handed out. I had 16 schools for a reason ;D

Dunno where I'm going with this. Suppose I'm agreeing. The bullies are always at fault, but the victims are chosen for very strong reasons.

[valis2.livejournal.com]

But that's because I see in me the desire to be the bully. I can easily pick the kid that's going to get hell. I can look at someone and think, 'yep, that's the one that's going to be torn apart'. I've had a couple of friends like that, you can smell victim on them. That victimness is intoxicating, and it can be very hard to pull back on that need to hurt and dominate. I've never done it, but I understand it.

How fascinating! I'm intrigued. And it just feeds in further to my thoughts that bullies and victims somehow just recognize each other. I can sometimes sense a bully within minutes of engaging in conversation with them.

I was always bigger, smarter, and utterly more indifferent to the other kids, so I never got any of that. Also, unlike your 'don't hit' parents, my father spent hours teaching me how to box, how to kick/bite/scratch or at least verbally eviscerate anyone who tried to hurt me.

The indifference was impossible for me to do, much less feign. I have always been super sensitive--embarrassingly so--and I've never been able to even pretend indifference. My emotions show up on my face quite strongly.

I do have one bully in my adult life now. She's a friend of friends. Nearly everyone one of my friends hates her - they'll boycott social situations if she's there. I generally ignore her, or make the most viscous little comments to her when she starts up. I can't punch her - what's acceptable when you're a kid is illegal as an adult - but I can make her feel as small and bitter as she tries to make everyone else.

Interesting. That is pretty awful, to be an adult bully, pretty pathetic, actually, and it's fascinating that no one wants to be around her.

If we'd met as kids, I would have protected you, probably befriended you as the odd little weirdo who needed protection, my collection of odd weirdoes followed me everywhere, made me feel big and important, even if it wasn't a great type of friendship. But my protection would have been a hell of a lot meaner and more blood thirsty than anything the bullies handed out. I had 16 schools for a reason ;D

heh. You are one of the most interesting people I've ever met. Seriously. I am always surprised by your comments.

And I would have been grateful for protection of any kind, seriously.

[lady-branwyn.livejournal.com]

I am very shocked by what you had to endure. Where the hell were the adults while all of this was happening? But a number of your flisters have had similar experiences, so it must not be an uncommon experience.
I don't recall a lot of bullying against me or other children in school. It may be a generational difference--I probably have a few years on most people on your f-list. The degree of mayhem that is tolerated has increased. Also, I always lived in small university towns where many of the parents were closely involved in school and the children may have been more mannerly than some. I do remember being teased about my looks and clothes (then, as now, I had no fashion sense.)
Yeah, I think that anyone who recalls high school with great fondness needs to have his/her head examined.

[valis2.livejournal.com]

I am very shocked by what you had to endure. Where the hell were the adults while all of this was happening? But a number of your flisters have had similar experiences, so it must not be an uncommon experience.

My parents were dealing with troubles, and even though they could tell something was going on, I don't think they realized how miserable I was. It wasn't like I was coming home with bruises or anything, and I certainly wasn't trumpeting about it, either, because I was so embarrassed.

I don't recall a lot of bullying against me or other children in school. It may be a generational difference--I probably have a few years on most people on your f-list. The degree of mayhem that is tolerated has increased. Also, I always lived in small university towns where many of the parents were closely involved in school and the children may have been more mannerly than some. I do remember being teased about my looks and clothes (then, as now, I had no fashion sense.)

Perhaps it was generational--I'm not certain. I do worry that it's getting worse, now that texting and FB have gotten so huge. What happens when kids don't even have to say it to your face--when they can just anonymously spread it around and around as many times as they like? Scary stuff.