I am a survivor of bullying

I don't know how it happened exactly, or why. I wasn't a particularly weird kid or anything. In elementary school I had lots of friends, got invited to birthday parties, the whole shebang.

Sure, I was a pretty sensitive kid. Heck, I'm a pretty sensitive adult, so at least that much hasn't changed. But something changed when I got to high school. I feel like I started out ok, but somewhere along the line, a couple of people started picking on me. Then a few more. Then a few more. My long-time elementary friends found other friends and settled into camps that I wasn't welcome in.

At the worst of my bullying, I stopped eating lunch because you weren't allowed to eat anywhere in the school but the cafeteria, and no one would let me sit at their table. I was pushed, shoved, called names, had gum stuck in my hair, was called a fat fuck because of my size, and I even had an egg smashed over my head and I had to sit in an afternoon assembly with it drying in my hair. I had my school bag stolen, dumped out or hidden. Someone once held me down in the snow until I missed my bus. My gym teacher even shoved me in a corner and swore at me for doing something wrong.

I was a runt, a late bloomer. I wasn't any good at sports, so obviously I didn't fit in with the jocks who were of course the principal sources of the bullying. I wasn't a particularly good student, so I didn't fit in with the smart crowd. I wasn't artistic or an actor, so I didn't fit in with the artsy crowd. For a good 2 years, I was pretty much on my own.

So high school, at least for a while, pretty much sucked for me. I know it sucked for a lot of people. I worry that it is going to suck for my kids, and my parenting style is largely based around equipping them to deal with the ways that life can suck. That's probably true for every parent, though.

The bullying I was subjected to still affects me today. I still don't eat lunch. I have body image issues. I automatically assume when I walk into a room that I am unwelcome. I automatically assume that a group of people will regard me as an intruder if I try to join their conversation. I automatically assume that people perceive me as a creep, a loser, a drag, that I am uninteresting. I automatically assume that people are judging me, noting all my flaws, and preparing to weaponize my shortcomings against me. I automatically assume that people are talking about me behind my back. I always sit with my back against a wall so no one can come up behind me. I freak out when anyone stands in a doorway, which I perceive as blocking my exit from the room.

"That was 35 years ago. Get over it already", you might be saying. I wish I could. And I am trying. But it is difficult. This all happened between the ages of 13 and 15, which are highly impressionable years. They are very significant in the formation of one's personality. Or at least they were for me. And my personality got shaped in ways I am still trying to undo as I approach 50.

I feel fundamentally flawed. Fundamentally different. Fundamentally unworthy. Fundamentally weird and awkward. These are feelings I never had before this happened. My experiences with bullying taught me to feel those things, and I am trying to teach myself to feel new things that do not come naturally to me. Feelings of self-acceptance and self-love. But let me tell you, old feelings, thoughts and habits die hard.

As part of my healing journey, I have confronted some of my high school bullies. I don't know why, but I've added most of them to my Facebook feed. Maybe it was in preparation for what I have been doing, who knows. But here's the funniest thing: most of them claim to not remember mistreating me. And I believe them.

Look, we all know in theory that bullies don't feel good about themselves, that they have low self-esteem, that they likely come from unsupportive or unloving environments, etc, etc. We who have been bullied know that at least on paper, bullies are merely downloading their own inadequacies onto people they know can't or won't defend themselves, just as they can't or won't defend themselves from the people making them feel inadequate.

Try explaining that to a 13 year old who is struggling to fit in, struggling to be loved, to be accepted, to find his voice and find his place.

On the one hand, the fact that some of my bullies can't remember what they did is somewhat reassuring. It would likely have been even more damaging if they had said, "We picked on you because we hated you, and we still do to this day". I am strangely reassured that it wasn't personal.

But I am also sad that events which were so pivotal in and formative of my personality (albeit negatively) did not incur even a shred of guilt or remorse on the part of my abusers.

I honestly think bullies don't remember because they are simply not aware of the pain they are causing. I think they wander through life largely like bulls in a china shop, causing enormous damage and not noticing or caring. I think they lack the basic capacity to feel empathy.

On the bright side, a couple of them do remember tormenting me, and they have issued apologies that I am comfortable with. We have all changed since high school after all. A couple of them I will never contact because from their social media posts, I have to assume that they have not changed enough. To approach them would be fruitless at best, and would further retraumatize me at worst. But I have reached out to a few people who did not bully me, and they have also affirmed that it did happen.

If you've been bullied, you might ask yourself if it ever happened. Especially if your bullies claim to not remember abusing you. "Maybe I took it all too personally", you might say. "Maybe I imagined it or misinterpreted what they did and said", you might say. "Maybe I am just too sensitive and dramatic", you might also say. "Maybe it was all just youthful shenanigans".

Nope. Totally happened. It's not you. Your memories are not false. It is not fake news.

You were abused. I was abused. Bullying is abuse, end of story.

You deserve peace, freedom and closure.

Ok, but there is a happy ending to all this. By the time I graduated high school, I had a great group of friends and I ended up taking one of the best-looking girls in the whole school to prom. My version of a Cinderella story really.

I found a way to stand up. I discovered my voice, and also a keen sense of humour. I could not fight back physically, but I found I could fight back verbally. The only thing I was ever really good at in high school was public speaking. I competed on stage every year, and even won a few trophies for it. My speeches were basically comedy routines. I turned that sense of humour into a way to fight back, and I started making jokes about the cowardice of my bullies picking on someone who was half their size. That seemed to buy me some respect. And gradually the bullying stopped.

I don't want to paint myself as a blameless valiant warrior. I used that sense of humour to mock people who didn't deserve to be mocked, and I used it to mock things that should not have been mocked. For that I am sorry, and if anyone reading this feels I owe them an apology, I would urge them to get in touch with me because I am willing to help your healing journey in any way I can.

Phew. This has been cathartic and draining. I want to thank you for reading. I want to thank you for caring enough about yourself to seek help in acknowledging and processing your own experiences with bullying.

You are not alone. You are a survivor.