This is the continuation of my post about my personal experiences with being bullied. If you missed part one, find it here. As I said yesterday, this is a bully-free zone, so if I see mean, petty, or derogatory comments, I will be deleting them. As the old saying goes, if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all. Thanks.
What made me such an easy target for bullies? Probably because I was an easy target. I was just popular enough that everyone knew who I was, but not enough to have the social standing to be the one doing the teasing. I am very emotional; I wear my emotions on my face, so it was very clear when the bullies were getting to me. I had a huge desire to fit in, and those sorts of people are always targets.
How did I react to being bullied? No well actually (who would?) After I realized laughing at them and/or with them wasn't cutting it, and that I wasn't a strong enough person to start dishing it back, I started trying too hard. This started mainly sophomore year. I tried so hard to fit in, to be friends with those girls. But it only gave them more ammunition for jokes and only made me cry harder at night.
After that I began retreating into myself. I was never quiet or very shy, but I avoided social situations. I stopped making plans with friends (except those who really mattered). I started reading more (everything's happier in books). I started slumping my shoulders and walking with bad posture so I could be as small, and as invisible, as possible. I lost any self-confidence I ever had.
Friends from college and grad school are probably reading this, wondering how the hell could this be the same person. While I tended to shy away from constant parties and social engagements, in college, and especially in grad school, I was not quiet nor did I act like someone who was lacking in self confidence. I am social, fairly outgoing, and I like to organize group outings, whether it's a night out, throwing a dinner party, or getting a group together to see a movie, it's hard to see the bullied girl in me now.
So how does one get over being bullied? You don't, not really. But it is possible to move past it and put it behind you. I did it in three ways.
- I had a breakdown. My freshman year of college was a nightmare, mostly because I was waiting to be rejected and bullied at every turn. My confidence was so low that when I was dropped from a few houses during sorority recruitment, it was like someone had ripped off my arm. Not knowing enough guys to find a date to our formal was like being called Mrs. Hippo all over again. After several very rough nights, some medication, and two bouts of therapy, I came out of it a stronger, better person.
- I found better friends. A lot of my problems in high school stemmed from who I wanted to be friends with rather than who I should be friends with. It took me two years of college to narrow down a good, solid, core group of friends, but once I did, I realized that I didn't have to try so hard. People either like you or they don't. Just like you either like people or you don't. It doesn't really matter in the long run that some people don't like you, as long as you have a group of people who love you for who you are (no matter how crazy or neurotic), not who they (or even you) think you ought to be.
- I put the past behind me. I used to dream about what I would say to those girls who made me so miserable, until I actually ran into one at a party. She chatted, laughed, and reminisced with me as if none of those things had ever happened. And then I realized, "she probably doesn't even remember". She wouldn't remember what she had said 7 or 8 years ago, and even though it destroyed my life at the time, in the larger scheme of things, it really doesn't matter. I wasn't physically hurt because of the bullying I endured, and thanks to some good therapy, I had let most of my bitterness towards the bullies in my past go. So I put the idea of tracking down those petty girls and humiliating them like they humiliated me so long ago behind me. Revenge wouldn't make me any better than them. Bringing up old wounds in a public place, while it might make me feel better, would only be rude and upsetting to people around me. So I let it go. I may not have fully forgiven them and I probably won't be any more than polite, I will look them in the face with dignity and calm, and let my actions show just how awesome I've become.
I appreciate you letting me tell my story. I realize these are long posts, and I thank you for your time. Were you the target of a bully? Were you the bully? If you would like, please share your story in the comments. And no fear of cyber bullies; if I find mean and/or derogatory comments, I will delete them. This is a bully-free zone.
Note: Today and tomorrow's posts are about bullying. In light of me sharing some personal stories, I ask that you keep the comments a bully-free zone. Please do not post anything mean, petty, or derogatory. I will be deleting comments that I find offensive, so just FYI; you have been warned. Let's keep it polite. Thanks!
Almost every adolescent or teen is bullied at some point. Sometimes it's mild teasing, but other times, it can go as far as total mental, emotional, and/or physical harassment. Recently, we've seen how bad bullying can really get and the horrible consequences extreme bullying can have.
Since the tragic deaths of those bright young lives, millions of people have shared their own experiences. I've wanted to share mine, but I've been afraid. Afraid of what people would think, what they would say, how they would react.
Why?
Because I was bullied. And it leaves scars that are impossible to erase.
While I have many more stories and episodes where I was a target of someone's unkindness, today I'm going to share three true stories about my own experiences with bullies.
I longed to be cool. I wasn't especially unpopular, but at 11, being "one of the cool kids" was all that really mattered. I was thrilled when, in 6th grade, I ended up in an especially good homeroom and an even better pod (pods designated which group of teachers you would have), which also meant that I had a good locker location. Things seemed to be okay; I was finally "with it" and had a good group of fairly popular friends. I had always been a dancer, but everyone was going out for cheerleading, so I decided I wanted to as well. After all, cheerleaders were the popular girls. Making the squad equaled a life of popularity, I was sure of it. So I tried out and didn't make it. I was naturally heartbroken, because not only didn't I make the squad, but most of my friends did. I was promptly deserted, mostly because 11 year old girls are cruel. Very cruel, it turns out.
One random day, I heard a rumor that one of the new cheerleaders (and a former friend) had made up a new cheer and that cheer was about me. I was naturally anxious, but didn't think much of it, until it was performed at lunch, in front of most of the 6th grade, by several of my so-called-friends. I don't actually remember what the cheer was about; I'm sure it had something to do with me being a want-to-be cheerleader, ugly, fat, or any of those things preteen girls find so important. I remember being horribly embarrassed, but doing my best to laugh it off in front of everyone, trying to play it cool, because that was how I had always been told to treat situations like that. Laughter and stories about the cheer and how it was about me (and wasn't that so funny!?) died down after a while, but it's hard to forget something like that. Especially when all I did was try to be a cheerleader.
Another tale also starts in the lunch room and ends with me having major body issues. During lunch, two guys and another girl who sat around me always made these jokes about "Mrs. Hippo". Mrs. Hippo was someone in our classes and was some girl that had a weight problem. I had no clue who Mrs. Hippo was, but I knew that I didn't want to be the fat girl.
At 13, I was incredibly gawky, all arms and legs, with the exception of some stubborn baby fat. I was sure that having that small bit of pudge around my middle made me fat. I joked around with my friends, pushing out my stomach like I was pregnant, and pinching my fat rolls to hide my own self-consciousness about my body. None of my friends had this roll of fat above their jeans, therefore I must be fat. I quickly developed an idea that skinny was the thing to be. The fear of being like "Mrs. Hippo" was strong, and I began limiting what I ate and becoming quite adapt at eating without really eating. For several months, I almost never ate lunch or snacks, and ate the smallest amount of breakfast and dinner I could get away with. I never progressed to becoming an anorexic and I didn't lose more than a couple of pounds, but I was constantly obsessed with my weight and how I looked. Talk of Mrs. Hippo at the lunch table faded as the year drew to a close, and I stopped obsessing over what I ate. Then, while signing yearbooks, I found it. Under a sloppily written "have a great summer", was "P.S. you are Mrs. Hippo".
By the time I got to high school, I thought being teased was behind me. 9th grade past without too much drama, and while I wasn't all that happy, I was of the opinion that things could be a lot worse. As a rising sophomore, I made the high school dance team and started practicing with the team after school. We had our own locker room and always dressed out together. At the very first practice, a girl commented on my "granny panties". Soon, while changing, some of the older girls would whisper about my granny panties. It got to be a big joke, that Elizabeth wore granny panties.
I did wear what most people would classify as granny panties. My mother bought them in packs of 3 at an outlet store, and while most of them had a cute design, or were a bright color, there was no denying that they were basically briefs and that they were not from Victoria's Secret. When the jokes and the teasing got to be too much, I took some of my babysitting money, and marched myself down to the mall and bought brand new, non-granny-panty underwear. But every time I ran out of clean, new underwear, and wore the old ones, I would hear the whispers or the jokes about my granny panties.
Looking at these, my stories about being bullied are not near as bad as other stories you've probably heard. I have others, including the time I was spit on, the time some mean boys impersonated a boy I liked online and basically made a fool out of me for fun, the time someone dressed up as me to put on a skit designed for the sole purpose of making fun of me, the list goes on and on.
What makes these stories stand out? Of the three, they are the ones that probably damaged me the most. From the whole "Mrs. Hippo" thing, I developed, and still struggle with, weight and body image issues. The cheer in the lunchroom gave me the idea that if you aren't cool, you are nothing. Enter major self-confidence decline. And the panties? Just another mark on the "you are worthless and a loser to boot" chalkboard of life.
Tomorrow I will be talking about how being bullied has affected me throughout my adult life and how I eventually over came it. If you would like to share, I would appreciate comments and your stories about being bullied.
