Bullying…

Interesting post about bullies and bullied…

I was bullied daily from Elementary School through High School. I was also bullied as an adult. I still remember every word and every thing that was done to me. I’m 44 years old.

via UNDERSTANDING THE BULLY, THE VICTIM OF BULLYING AND THE BYSTANDER. — Insights Of A Bipolar Rambler

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New starts…

…One day when I was alone in my dormitory, in the spur of the moment I decided to write “i love Kate” on a paper aeroplane and fly it out the window… nobody would know it was me… Though of course, stupid me put my head out the window…

Being the “cry-baby” at school has a very negative affect on your street-cred with the other pupils. Definitely not very cool. So I never really had many friends—maybe three or four at each of the various schools I attended, two of whom I stay in touch with today. Getting a girlfriend was nigh on impossible, though I didn’t make life easy for myself at the same time.

For my second high school, from when I was 14 until 16, I went to a boarding school that was a couple of hours or so away from my new home town. The other schools in my town were not particularly appetising options, and also I really did want a completely new start. Of course, I went and cried on my first day, which made this “new start” pretty much redundant straight away. By the time I was in my final year though I was getting better, but as you can imagine, boarding school can be a pretty harsh environment for a sensitive kid. I remember one time, in the showers, a couple of the other kids took my clothes and towel and made fun of me for some time as I was crying away. That whole episode helped make me want to avoid showers for sometime so I wasn’t deemed the most hygienic of students–which meant more teasing. But I think overall the whole place did, eventually at least, help me grow up and grow that “thick skin” the primary school teachers had talked about.

I  remember having a crush on a few girls at the school. The first of whom… Kate… One day when I was alone in my dormitory, in the spur of the moment I decided to write “I love Kate” on a paper aeroplane and fly it out the window (the dorm was on the fourth floor)… nobody would know it was me… Though of course, stupid me put my head out the window to see where it landed and a guy who picked it up was swift to spot me and make the conclusion. Talk about making life hard for yourself, and I guess I kind of warranted the inevitable backlash and teasing from that. I never did get a girlfriend, nor kissed a girl, while I was there.

School years – the start of it all

By the time I was 13, I was pretty much on the verge of some sort of breakdown: another kid just needed to look at me for me to burst into tears, and they knew it. One of the worst moments came when I was 12 and pissed myself in class as I was too afraid to ask to go to the toilet.

After growing up on sparsely populated islands, moving to the larger city of Lancaster in the north of England when I was around eight years old was quite traumatic for me. School suddenly became much less friendly and I struggled to adapt. I would cry a lot then kids would make fun of me… it was like a vicious circle…

I remember well when it all started: I was at primary school when I was eight, and two of my older sisters who were at the same school suddenly weren’t there on a particular day—they were on a school trip. In the playground I started looking for them and couldn’t find them, and I remember starting to cry because of it. This caused some amusement with the other kids who laughed at me, and that in turn caused me to cry more… I remember teachers telling others in the class about people with “thinner skins” who were more sensitive than others… that didn’t work, for sure.

I swiftly became known as a “cry baby” as I literally was crying at school at least once a day and more often than not, two or three times. This was something that continually inspired others to make me the brunt of their jokes. Other things like an accent that was completely different from that of Lancaster didn’t help: I was seen as the posh kid, which helped to further put a target on my head. Understandably I guess as kids can be cruel to an easy target.

This would continue for years. By the time I was 13, I was pretty much on the verge of some sort of breakdown: another kid just needed to look at me for me to burst into tears, and they knew it. One of the worst moments came when I was 12 and pissed myself in class as I was too afraid to ask to go to the toilet. The teachers understandably became tired of it and rather exasperated by it all, and I don’t think anyone in my family really knew what to do. The only solution that was came up was changing school. And indeed, two primary schools and three high schools later, by the time I was 17, I was only just starting to get that mystical “thick skin”. Still seen as strange and alone, with zero confidence to really speak with people… but… at least I wasn’t crying all the time.

In the midst of all of this, I remember when I was ten not being interested in girls, though that swiftly changed when I turned 11 and went to my first high school. In spite of being deeply unpopular and certainly not cool in way whatsoever, I became infatuated with a girl two years older than myself… so much so that I saved up my pocket money to buy a £10 ring for her at a jewellery store. We all got on the same school bus and she lived quite close to me. One day after we got back, I went to my place via hers to knock on her door and give it to her. Needless to say, my affections were not returned, though at least the ring was given back a few days later.