I was bullied relentlessly when I was a kid. Constantly picked on and made to be an outcast. In elementary school I lived up in the hills. I had limited neighbors and even few neighborhood kids. School was my only place to socialize with others, because when I got home at the end of the day, there was no one to interact with but myself. I do feel that this socially stunted me in some ways. Also, the kids I grew up with had a negative connotation of where my home was. It was assumed that I was poor.
In addition, due to my home life circumstances I took advantage of the only time I had with other kids. I was definitely the chatty one. At least, in the beginning of elementary school. Which of course landed me in a lot of trouble and also trouble for the person I was talking to. Somehow at the beginning of every school year (like day one) I was set aside from the class from first to fifth grade. All the desks in a cube, I was the odd one out, set to the back, or front, or directly in the aisle with a collection of students on each side. Imagine the impact that has not just on the child being set a part from others, but also the impression it would make on the same students year after year. What does that tell them?
It wasn't until I was an adult, it casually came up in conversation with my mother. Who then, after all those years, told me it was she who in fact went to each and every teacher and told them to segregate me from my class. All the days I came home crying for being teased over just that and she knew all along. I felt the knife go in my back.
We moved mid junior high. Living in a small town in Idaho was no easier. Although, I will say that I was very optimistic to start over. Needless to say, the damage was done. My concept of making friends was skewed. Also, being in such a small town, cliches had been formed and bonded well before my arrival. Outsiders, especially Californians, were not welcomed.
Bullying continued, not just relentlessly mean girls, but boys, too. I can remember being "white washed" by five boys a grade up from me my freshman year. White washing, for those who are unfamiliar, is being shoved in the snow and kicked around unable to get up and get away. They added de-pantsing me to white washing. Making it very cold and humiliating.
No one stepped in. No one said stop. Blank mindless bystanders. My mother's solution was to move me to a small private school. I was safe from kids bullying me, but is there ever a place without a bully? I have discovered the answer is "no". My bully at this school (which was really a double wide of about thirty kids from k-12) was the owner of the school herself. A tiny, yet nasty and vile, woman. The things I would say to her now, well am sure, may have already been said. At least I hope so.
Okay, my bully ranting is almost over. I just want to get to the good part and probably the most controversial part of this post. That is, how I survived being bullied, what I know now that I will pass down to my son long before he encounters the same problems. I eventually transferred back to the town high school. Again, running from a bully, this time my mother had maybe the best idea and took the best action as a parent she ever did. I only wish it had happened sooner.
She enrolled me in boxing. Now that's not so crazy these days, but this is 1996 mind you. It was unheard of back then. I was only supposed to learn a few moves, but I fell madly in love with it. I could take a punch to the nose without even a flinch, and it turns out, I was a lot stronger than I realized. To keep up with boxing I made an outrageous move, according to my high school principal anyway. I joined the boy's wrestling team. Even more, I signed up for boy's weight lifting. I became the strongest, toughest girl I knew.
What's funny, I never got to put it into practice. I know most people may read this and think that I resolved violence and bullying with more violence and bullying, but it is quite the opposite. Just the knowledge that I could fight back gave me a confidence and warded off all future attacks. No one touched me ever again. Granted I didn't all of a sudden get invited into a cliche or anything. But who wants friends like that anyways?
Those days are long behind me, and as my book may indicate I still dealt with bullies into adulthood, but I'll be damned if anyone put their hands on me again. The truth is ever bully I encountered after that, though adulthood brings more psychological abuse, I fight. I fight back. I fight hard.
What you do with your kids is your own decision to make. If you have a child who is being bullied, I just want to tell you, that enrolling them into something that teaches them that they are strong, they will stand a fighting chance.
No comments:
Post a Comment