Story about Bullying (Long)

To anyone who actually takes the time to read this, if anyone, you are a trooper.
- Figure I'd share my story to have people get a better idea of who I am.

School Bells:

From pre-school to high school, school has always been a part of my memories. It has been a huge portion of my life. All of the memories that were created in those classrooms, small or large have made me into the person I am today. Although none of us ever really get the option to choose whether or not we wish to attend school, I think if I had been given that choice I still would have elected to go to school even knowing that the other people made me miserable. All of those wonderful memories of making a few friends, going on field trips and playing games. I would have never experienced any of those things had I not gone to school. Most likely I wouldn’t have even met some of the people I am currently friends with today. I wouldn’t have had the amazing teachers I did. Teachers that taught me about a specific subject while teaching me about life as well. But like I said before, no one really gets the choice as to whether or not they want to go to school. You had to get up and go whether you wanted to or not, it became habitual and for me it also became something of a nightmare.
From the time I started school up until now people have come in and out of my life like crazy, from new teachers to fellow students. Teachers have always changed from year to year and what few friends I had moved away at certain times. Many of those people and events stick out in my mind, whether they seemed meaningless at the time or not. For example; the fifth grade stands out relatively clear in my mind. For that was the year I joined our school band, as well as the year that I realized I was not accepted like the other kids in my class.
I remember very clearly the day that all of us fourth graders were brought into the gymnasium to be told about the various instruments we could choose to play in the following school year. We all felt so special that we were now old enough to have this chance, we felt like we felt proud of our selves. We were going in to the fifth grade and we were all excited for the new school year ahead of us. Sitting on the floor of that gymnasium thinking about what fifth grade would be like, watching as all of the different instruments were shown to us all I could feel was something I can only describe as a mix of anticipation and amazement. The way the instruments sounded was like no other thing I had heard before. It was so foreign to me to see all of these instruments so close, being able to see how they were played. I had to be a part of it, I had to experience it. That day I brought home a packet describing the opportunity we were being offered. I was so excited; all I wanted at the time was to be a part of it all. So I asked my mother if I could join the school band or the orchestra. I don’t know how my mother felt about the idea at the time, but she allowed for me to join. My mother filled out the papers and told me to have fun.
Sometime later I had found myself being handed a dark black case. It had a long piece of masking tape down the side with a long number on it next thing I knew I was learning how to play the flute. I may not have been very good; I don’t honestly remember that, at that time all I was really focused on was how much fun it was learning how to play the instrument. Every Friday a group of us kids would go to lessons together, four girls, one boy and I. We would all go to the end of the hall, down past the lunchroom and into the last room on the right side. This was Mrs. ----- room where I would learn how to play the music I loved so dearly. In that room I learned many other things as well; I learned the names of musicians as well as their work, I learned how to read scales, count rests and play notes. Every night I would go home and rush to complete my homework in anticipation of practicing the flute. I remember playing “Au Claire de Lune”; “Frere a Jacques”; and Beethoven’s “Symphony Number 9”. Every night I would practice and every night my mother would sign a paper saying I had played the songs that were assigned to me. When Friday’s came around I was always excited, Mrs. ----- would finally hear me play and she would see just how hard I was working. It went on like this for a while, the practicing every night, being excited to learn our next piece of music. This only changed when I had realized just how different the others were treating me.
After a while I began to notice how the other kids were treating me, they were always picking on me somehow. It all seems small looking back on it now, the teasing for the way I talked, dressed and acted. But thinking about it further I realize much hasn’t change sense then, only difference now is the comments my peers make aren’t at a pg. level. Regardless of all of that, I did begin to notice that they did not treat me very well. I wasn’t included in things; I was ignored, talked about behind my back. All of that hurt, I couldn’t figure out why they were being so cruel to me. Why some of my friends were now no longer talking to me. I guess it is kind of “normal” to have that one kid on the outside, always looking in on the fun things that are going on around them. Not really being noticed, becoming isolated from everyone. I never thought that would be me though. Before I began noticing how I was becoming the black sheep in the herd so to speak, I was very talkative and happy. Once I began realizing that the others did not like me for some reason I became more withdrawn from everything around me. Even at this young age I was being treated like I was less than, like I was not good enough for my peers to associate with. Many times within that year I had been sent home in tears, I was so upset by the feeling of being unwanted and ignored that I could no longer hold back tears. Honestly when I went home on those many occasions I would sit in my room looking back at what led me to crying, I was embarrassed by this, it seemed so dumb to have been crying over something so idiotic. But no matter how hard I tried it would always happen again, the cycle kept repeating itself and it kept getting harder and harder to keep a smile on my face. This all continued into middle school as I entered the sixth grade.
During my sixth grade year I was in the band for maybe half the year, my grades were too low for me to stay in it. I didn’t mind much, I had stopped caring about the band a long while before that. When school had started I was put into an afterschool program called “The Zone” it was basically a place to do homework and be involved with different activities such as karate and cooking. During the time I spent in the afterschool program the staff members became some of the only people I could talk to, I could trust to be straight forward with me. One staff member I had talked to a lot was the instructor for the tennis club. Every day we would go out behind the gym to where the tennis courts use to be, and she taught us the rules of the game as well as how to play it properly. I loved being there, playing tennis became a sort of stress reliever for me and I was actually good at it. Only thing was, the others within the club were the ones causing me to feel so bad about myself. Like always it was teasing and isolation. I hated it. And soon the one thing I looked forward to most became the one thing I dreaded, I eventually began hating being in the afterschool program. Showing up every day just to sit by myself, get talked about behind my back. What was the point? Why bother with it? Only thing was I had no choice but to go. I guess the tennis instructor must have realized what was going on for she decided to talk to me about things.
Over the next three years we talked nearly every day, sense I had been held back in seventh grade I was getting ridiculed even more so the idea of what was considered a failure came up a lot. Another thing we talked about a lot other than being teased and what failure was really considered as was sexuality and how figuring it out can be hard. Being thirteen at the time I had begun trying to figure things out already. It was nice to have someone to talk my problems out with even if she didn’t understand what it was I was referring to. When she and all the other staff members were eventually transferred to a different school I was devastated. I knew that in the eighth grade I would yet again be in that program, only this time I would know absolutely no one. But that was something I was used too; I really just drifted under the radar that year. The only place I had felt comfortable/welcome that year was the book club, where everyone seemed to be an “outcast”. That is where I learned to love books and quite honestly ignore what the people around me were saying. Not all the memories I have from school have been all bad, I have actually had some great ones as well.
One of my fondest memories from my time in school is the times spent in French class with my friend Raychel. Every day during French class we sat next to each other, during class we talked about everything and nothing at all. The amount of times we were overheard during an awkward/random conversation is beyond me. We had French class for two years together with Madame -----, I don’t really know why these days we had together in French class are one of my favorite moments but they are. I guess maybe it is just because I had my best friend to talk to, someone that I felt welcome and also comfortable around.
Another one of my favorite memories was English class with Mrs. -----, just her personality alone made the class better. She was such an outgoing person that you couldn’t help but to enjoy being in her class. Mrs. ----- honestly got me into reading more than I ever thought I would, she was the reason I got into the book club in the first place. Anyhow being in her class was always fun. There are just certain things that sticks out to me, the moments that seemed to be so small at the time, but helped me become the person I am now. These moments are the few in which I was genuinely happy, these are the moments in which I chose to remember.

Middle School

Middle school was easily the worst time of my life to date, I mean think of it as being a small fish thrown into a big shark’s tank. That was me, a little kid who was all smiles and excited to be in the “big kid school” soon becoming just another broken down person. Not even halfway through 6th grade and I almost rarely smiled, I had also become unmotivated. I didn’t do half the work I was supposed to and when I did it was very poorly done and almost always resulted in a failing grade. I didn’t care; I was not worried about anything we were doing in the slightest bit because I just did not care I had more problems than division in my life.
I was very apathetic, twelve years old and all I wanted to do with my time was sleep. I didn’t want to go outside to play with the other kids and get dirty. I wanted to sleep and just be left alone; of course life doesn’t work like that. I was soon put into a tutoring program at the afterschool program “The Zone”. I hated it, I didn’t want to do the tutoring, it was just the most annoying thing ever. I knew deep down that they were just trying to help me but at the time I didn’t care in the least bit. Most of these feelings were probably caused by being bullied for the first time in my life. I mean to be in 6th grade and already having rumors of you being gay going through the school, having people tell you day in and day out that you were a freak or worthless. 6th grade and this was already happening to me, like what did I do to deserve it? I kept to myself for the most part never started any trouble, but the bullies and all the trouble always seem to find its way to me.
First time I ever got into trouble was in 7th grade, I was being bullied by a bunch of the “popular girls” and they had decided to take it to an all new level. One of the girls had gone to the principal and guidance counselors saying I had done something to her, I think she it was hit her? I am not too sure the specifics behind it, I really just remember being in the office crying. No one believed me when I said I didn’t do anything and that alone made me more upset than anything. At the time Mr. ---- was in the middle school as a guidance counselor, he had pulled me out of class and had asked me about the incident. When I had denied doing anything he had told me that I had until lunch to admit what I had done or be in even more trouble than I would have been. I didn’t admit to doing anything sense I really hadn’t done it, I wasn’t going to take the blame for what they were trying to say I did. When we got to lunch I sat by myself and just cried, I didn’t want anyone near me. I didn’t trust anyone anymore, I didn’t want to make a “friend” and have them betray me being like these girls who I didn’t even know. I had really just broken down completely that day. I had been crying so much that I was literally shaking. I didn’t even think that was possible, to cry so much that your whole body just shakes uncontrollably.
Soon after lunch started Mr. ---- came in to do announcements to us all and called me out right in front of the whole room to his office. So crying my eyes out I had gotten up and walked to his office being stared at the whole time by everyone. When I had gotten down their they gave me one last chance to admit what I had done and get less punishment, they told me they knew I had done it and I wouldn’t be getting out of trouble so I might just as well admit it. So hearing this I just admitted to it like why not they don’t believe me anyhow, why not just get less punishment for it anyways. I don’t remember what my punishment was for all this, and honestly I don’t think I cared at all because in that moment I knew that I was powerless and defeated. I knew that these girls were going to be hounding me the rest of school and I was going to just have to take it. I was just 13 years old and already being bullied until I was in tears, having my reputation ruined and realizing that I apparently had no credibility. I don’t blame Mr. ---- to be honest, what was he supposed to do? I didn’t even blame him back when all of this was happening, sure I wanted him to believe me and was quite upset that he didn’t but I wasn’t mad at him. I think the only time I was mad at a staff member was the following year when I repeated 7th grade.
The second year I was in the 7th grade was even worse than before, I had no friends at all I knew no one in the grade. Most of all I didn’t trust anyone, after all that had happened in the past year I didn’t feel like anyone was going to be worth my time. Sure enough I had more people gaining up on me to, just like I had assumed they would. I was being made fun of by the eighth graders for having failed and by the new 7th graders for that same rumor of being gay. No one had even known back then that I was, I didn’t either. I was still questioning it all which is why I think that it hurt so much. The only real place I could talk about anything, including sexuality and feel like someone actually cared was at The Zone, having already been there for two years I had gotten close to the staff members. They offered me sort of a safe place to talk and be away from everything going on around me at the time. Only thing is that was only about 2 hours a day, the rest of the time I had to suck it all up and deal with these people verbally attacking me and constantly trying to get me in trouble.
It only got a little better during the eighth grade, just because a lot of the people who had tormented me had moved on to the high school and could no longer bother me. I made a few friends, ones who are still friends with me today also I had found the book club. Yet another “safe place” for me to be; I had finally found some motivation for doing my work. With less bullies to bother me and a few supportive friends I felt a little better about things that were happening in my life, I wanted to try and get good grades to stay with my new friends. I was finally having some moments where I was laughing and smiling. Also, that year I don’t think I got in any trouble which is a plus.

High School – The Early Years

School has never been fun for me, ever sense I can remember I have dreaded going to go to school; it used to be that I would just get a really uneasy feeling in my stomach when I had to get up in the morning but middle school it had gotten worse. I failed 7th grade so a lot of the people who were supposed to be in my grade took it as an opportunity to make fun of me some more. They called me a failure and worse of all they called me worthless. Starting off 9th grade I was scared, I had to face all of those people again. They were no longer in a different school than I was they were now free to torment me as much as they would like, and they did. Being a freshman is always something people are nervous about because you have the new school and bigger kids to adjust to, for me it was much more than that.
I had to get use to feeling like an outcast again. Eighth grade had actually been good for me; I made some new friends found a club that I could belong to. But just as fast I lost all that, some of the people I use to talk to had abandoned me talking to the “cooler kids” and becoming one of those people who I tried to avoid. Soon after 9th grade had started I realized I had even worse feelings about getting up in the morning than before. I constantly had an uneasy stomach and that was soon followed by stress headaches. No pain medication really could help with it either; they barely made a dent into making the pain go away. Additionally during the day I had to worry about who I was going to run into in the halls sense I had been kind of forced out of the closet that year I had certain people who would just yell shit at me and then there were others who would actually knock me around a bit. All this use to happen so much that I use to take different hallways to get to class, I had rather been late than see these people. It was horrible; my whole freshman year was consumed with fear and the sickness. I mean I had been threatened of being beat up, pushed around in the girl’s locker room anywhere I went in that school I had issues. Lunch, gym the library it was all the same. It seemed that everyone had pegged me as a target; worst part was it was all kept from the teachers. We kids all have a very sneaky way of doing things; it is second nature for us. I wish this had not been hidden as much as it had been, I think that the first time a teacher had even the slightest idea this was going on was about halfway through that year when I brought a knife to school.
I had become so afraid of the people around me and had been threatened so much that I brought my Mama’s pocket knife to school with me one day. It was more of a thing of comfort to me than anything, like I had it so I automatically felt safer even though I knew deep down I would never use it. I’m a pacifist you see, so violence really does not sit well with me. It’s why I never fight back when people come after me. Anyways I got caught one day having this knife, I was sitting in Biology class and we had a substitute. Mrs. ---- had been sick again, when the hall monitor came in to get me I knew what it was about I didn’t really care that much either. I was really looking forward to the “vacation” from school; I really think it saved me. Only thing I was not expecting was the cops telling me that if I was a year older I would have been arrested, that the knife was longer than what was allowed for a concealed weapon or something like that.
I got lucky, all I know is I got lucky. Sure I was grounded for like a year, yelled at and felt ashamed but I was lucky all the same. I was taken out of all of my classes and placed into tutoring where no one else was there to bother me, I got all my work done for a change and I was less stressed out. I had no more headaches for the remainder of 9th grade which was just amazing in itself. It was just too bad I had to go back for the following year, I was stuck once again.
10th grade was really odd at first; no one bothered me for the longest time. They still talked about me a lot though, talking about how I had been taken out of school rumoring that I had been on drugs and was forced into rehab. Rumors are silly like that, I kind of wish I knew who started that one. As the year went on though the bullying started back up and I was yet again feeling sick and angry about it all. I just wanted it to end, to escape from it all. People should not have to deal with bullying at all, our society should not pray upon those who dress, act, or have a different sexuality then what’s “normal”. It breaks people down and makes them feel completely worthless, self-esteem is shot to Hell and their left crying and full of fear. I mean what does a person do to deserve any of that? Not like I asked to be different, I just wanted to be comfortable in my own skin and be accepted. That whole “dream” was just that a dream, it was never going to happen for me and I knew it. So, I took a different approach about things.
The further we got into the year the less and less I talked. I ignored those who were my friends; I would just stare out into space and read. I didn’t want to be a part of anything around me, I was just sick of it all. I really just thought if I didn’t speak then no one would bother me, and yet again this only worked for a little while. The bullying went away for a short time but soon started up again worse than before. I wasn’t being pushed around anymore but I had more hateful things being said to me. I cannot tell you just how many times over the course of that year that I had been called either a “fag”, “dyke”, “anorexic”, “freak”, “loser” or what seemed to be their favorite one of all a “lesbo”. It hurt, being verbally attacked like that. I think that’s why by the end of 10th grade I was cutting myself even more than I had been during my freshman year. It wasn’t discovered I was doing this though until what I think was like halfway through 11th grade.
It had been found out two times prior to this that I was cutting myself once during 8th grade and once in 9th grade. Each time they just talked to me telling me that I was wrong to do that I shouldn’t hurt myself, they let my parents know and I was sent home or whatever it was they chose to do that particular day. In 11th grade though it was much different, I had been burning myself as well as cutting. I was much more withdrawn from everybody using music as a way to cut myself off from the rest of the world. Music calmed me down, helped me in stopping thinking about all that was going on around me it became almost something of a shield kind of protecting me from some of the bullying that was happening. Sure it had all calmed down sense 9th grade but it still happening, still very obvious. It’s not like it was all just going to stop at the drop of a hat or something like that. Life doesn’t work that way, things linger on and on for a while crushing you in the process of it that’s why life just sucks. People only worry about themselves, they don’t think about what kind of effects what they are doing may have on a person; they don’t want to think about it. I mean did they really think about what kind of damage they were doing to my reputation and self-esteem when they had accused me of selling and using drugs? Doesn’t seem like it, and if they did then they obviously didn’t care all too much. I just hope one day karma pays them all a little visit, let them feel this way and see whether they like it or not. I guarantee they would all break down within just a few short days.
I’m a senior now, and I have not cut or burned myself in just under 2 years. Such a small victory that I am super proud of, you could not imagine how hard that is to do. This year has been pretty good for me overall; a lot of the people who had been bullying me have graduated so I no longer have to worry about them. I can finally just relax a bit; just fly under the radar for the rest of my time here. All I ever wanted to do, just be left alone and live my life. Only thing I have left to worry about now is whether or not I will graduate and college. I really hope college isn’t a repeat of all this, I hope I can finally just have some fun in my life and be happy. Guess I will have to wait till then to find out though, man I hate waiting.

 

Lol, that many words eh? WOW. I actually had to write this for a senior memoir, they had chapters assigned and these were three of them. Just want to really show people you can get through it, I mean I am still here. Just one question: lieu?

Ps. thanks for reading!!

 

(*hug*) Thanks.
- Little side note they were bullying me for more than failing, just to say.
(I also had to go to summer school for 6th grade and math for 9 & 10)

 

Ah, gotchya and yeah summer school was better for me to. Less people no one makes fun of you for being a "failure" sense we all failed.

 

Yes I do. They didn't know I was being bullied only that I cut and they were convinced I had stopped. They didn't, just told me if I did it anymore that I would be put into mental hospital (4 winds or something like it). I am the youngest of 6 and my 2 older bro's like to bully me a lot. One lives here and one down the road so not really able to get away from them.

 

(*hug*) thank you.