Ugh you got it right Taylor Swift. Somehow Taylor was able to take time out of her busy hair crimping schedule to write a song about the jackasses that are mean to us in our youth. Lately bullying has become big news. I don’t remember it was big news when I was 11, having panic attacks and vomiting before class out of fear of how my classmates might torment me that day. Today a trial starts for the kid who shot his classmate because he thought that he might have a crush on him (the deceased child was apparently gay). This weekend I heard a story from someone I was with about a teenage boy who dated another boy as a joke, to make that child feel stupid and to mock his sexuality, to make him scared, lonely, angry, and hurt. Last year we had the story of Phoebe Price who was bullied not only at school but online by petty, children’s taunts that resulted in her taking her own life.
Obviously people sit up and take notice when a life is lost. We get all up in arms, red faced and want to blame someone. Blame who? The underage child who probably doesn’t have the mental capacity to understand his/her actions? The over worked teachers who can’t discipline and teach 30 teenagers at the same time? Or perhaps it should be the parents who weren’t aware about the degree to which their little prodigies were absorbing what said in the home and how much was being regurgitated?
As someone who was seriously bullied from the age of 6 until 14 (sure high school was rough but nothing compared to elementary school), I can say that it makes you feel completely worthless. I didn’t want anyone to know what was going on because I was ashamed. Imagine that, feeling ashamed because of what someone else is doing to you. When you’re a kid you don’t think you can stop what is going on and you certainly don’t think you have any control over your own life – there is always a teacher, parent or sibling telling you what to do. The verbal abuse that I endured during that time really fucked me up. I think that is the simplest way to put it. Unlike most girls who endure a shitload of attacks from their fellow girlfriends, my main attackers were the boys in my class. Most of the girls would either vaguely join in or when we were alone, try to help me escape it by giving me tricks to fit in. I actually don’t recall wanting to “fit in” but I do remember vividly wishing to be left alone. If I get up to go to the bathroom what words of contempt will be hurled at me while I walk to the door. “How long will that walk be today?” is a sad thought to have for seven years.
My class was particularly bad at insulting each other (my situation just brought it to the forefront) and in 6th grade we were taken into the chapel, it was a parochial school, to be spoken to by the priest. He knew that most the picking on was done by the boys on the girls and so of course he said what adults say at this age, that the boys were only picking on us because they liked us. My worst attacker turned around in the pew in front of me and said audibly, “I don’t like you, so don’t get confused.”
Yes my teachers and classmates heard this.
He wasn’t disciplined and I was just left dumbfounded that even in a place of God I was still not safe. I have a ton of stories but what is the point at my age to rehash them? What do I think of myself now? Well the funny part was that I always thought I was awesome, even when I was called horrible names or excluded from every social activity, I kept thinking, why the hell can’t they see how amazing I am? I guess that must be chocked up to my mother. My mother could see something was going on but because I didn’t want to tattle I never said anything so she just tried to give me the ability to feel good about myself and focus on the positives even when I was in a dark place. The unfortunate part about childhood trauma is that sometimes it doesn’t kick your ass until you’re much older. I had my fair share of awkward junior high bullshit but at that point I had changed schools, in no small part because of what had happened to be the previous years of schooling, and I felt I could reinvent myself. In a way I don’t think I reinvented myself as much as I just came into my own. I had a huge group of friends and finally felt like I fit in without trying. When some self-loathing, hate-filled girl would try and hurt me I would just tuck it away and look on the bright side because I had so much positive going on elsewhere.
Obviously, this kind of tucking away of feelings isn’t the best way to deal with emotions but it is a good way to cope until you can wrap your head around life. I was able to go through all of high school with just a few bumps socially but mostly I had a great time, went to my proms, went to dances, made lifelong friends and was able to formulate a speaking voice that has allowed me to communicate effectively to all those who would listen about any topic I chose to wax on about. When I went to college I was able to further expand on who I was and work on myself even more to feel more secure in who I was and that confidence allowed me to do some amazing things I would never had attempted had I continued to allow people to make me feel anything other than authentic. However, in high school those scars from childhood started to rear their head and occasionally while I was in college.
I realized that because my tormentors had been mostly male, I had a skewed view of reality when it comes to men in general. I don’t think all guys are bad; in fact I always play devil’s advocate when a friend is griping about something her boyfriend did. Isn’t this why women around the world continue to fund psychoanalysis offices worldwide as we speak? The point of this entry isn’t really to say one thing or another. I guess if there is a take away message it would be that if you suspect that your kid is making another kid’s life a living hell, do something! I would be mortified and saddened to learn that my child is capable of that kind of behavior. Most of those kids who tortured me as a child are now fuckups, in jail, working minimum wage jobs or just generally just not living life to its fullest. Those asshole kids totally grow up to be asshole adults. I'm sure many of them had terrible homes lives and had their own share of shit to deal with, so what. We all have a life we don't show to the world, it doesn't make it ok for us to beat down someone else to make yourself feel better.
I was in Provincetown this weekend walked to the beach with friends when a car of 20-something guys drove up and screamed, “Tools!” at us. First off, I’m not a tool. You’re the “grownup” screaming ‘tools’ at a group of hot girls. I was taken aback because I am so analytical that I was thinking, but we aren’t tools, maybe he thought we were someone else? Also, people DO NOT USE THE WORD - TOOL! If you use the word tool, you are one. Simple as that. Thank God I learned early on how awesome I was otherwise I'd be rocking struggle city still. I have my moments when I wish things were easier, that I looked a certain way, that I had a boyfriend who was respectful and could take me to social events so my family didn’t think I’m a weirdo, and that I was truly happy and figured out. What I can say is that I’m happier now at 26 than I thought I would ever be allowed to be at 16. I have a job that I like, friends that make me laugh, and live in a city full of dogs that I can try and be friends with. I’ll just keep saying my prayers that I will lose whatever stamp I have on my forehead that attracts creeps.
What is that PSA that is going around right now? It gets better. It will get better, it did get better, and thank God I lived in society where I was just bullied and not turned into some child soldier, or starved to death, or sold into slavery…I just had a rough start. A few bumps in the road have just made me want to be better and stand tall. Of course I’m not standing too tall when I’m conducting poor decision making out at night, but that’s another story for a different day.
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