Maybe it is because my monkey mind was spinning. Or because work is exhausting this week.
Either way, I kept thinking about an article I saw in an old People Magazine yesterday. I am sure you heard about it somewhere – the girls (who I think are from Florida?) who video taped themselves beating up on another classmate.
I CANNOT HANDLE THAT STORY. I CANNOT EVEN THINK ABOUT IT WITHOUT FEELING SICK.
Little know fact: in eight grade I was tormented by a horrible girl and her gang of horrible friends. Never to the point where they physically hurt me (although I remember waking by the girl in the hallway around Christmas time and having her hit me with some sort of jingle bell necklace) but definitely to the point where they mentally destroyed me.
My sophomore year of college, I wrote a story about it for Chicken Soup for the Girl’s Soul. It was published under a pen name to protect the horrible girl, but it was an important step for me to write it. To help other girls who might be feeling how I felt. At the time I felt like THIS WAS THE ABSOLUTE WORST SITUATION ANYONE HAD EVER BEEN IN. I felt like there was no end to it. I felt like for the rest of my life I would be scared. I never read the story once after it was printed. Too many hard memories – even in the tamed down version.
The word BULLY is my least favorite word in the English language. For some reason, we let bullies have power over us. I hate that. I hate that in eighth grade I believed the horrible girl when she said I could not tell anyone she was harassing me. I let her have control over me. I listened to her taunts on the phone.
Why did I do that? Why did I let her get to me?
I am writing this post today just in case. Just in case there are thirteen year old girls who read my blog. (Do 13 year olds read blogs?) Just in case you have a daughter in middle school. Just in case you need to know that BULLYING is BULLSHIT and you are entitled to TELL SOMEONE and that person can help you make it stop.
I am so glad that I was able to finally make it all end with the help of my parents and the school guidance counselor. I remember sitting in her office and spilling the whole terrible story. I watched as the counselor wrote down all the names I had been called and all the threats I had heard. I remember finally feeling like I did not have to be scared. Finally feeling like I was back in control.
I grew beyond that horrible girl. I grew up into someone I respect. I rarely think about it. But that magazine article yesterday brought me back for a little bit. And so I wanted to share.
Take care of you.
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