Anti-Bullying.

Where was this when I was growing up?

I admit it. I was a nerd growing up. I didn't care much for fashion. I cared about my books and sports. I had 2 older brothers and was a Tom Boy. In 1st grade, I got glasses. I was very smart.

In school starting in kindergarten, I was teased daily. Made fun of. Pointed at. Beat up. Got gum stuck in my  hair. Spit at. 

Did a teacher do anything? The bus driver? What about when my parents complained? Still nothing.

I spent 7 years at grade school (k-6) being tormented but I loved learning so much, I didn't want to miss a day (talk about a nerd). There was 1 girl that led it all, AJ (her initials). AJ was in a popular clique and made sure people didn't like me. They'd make fun of Kim for being nice to me in 1st grade (she was in my Brownies troop and her mom was the leader and my mom helped out) until she wouldn't even speak to me outside of Brownies. I had a "best friend" in 4th & 5th grade named Nicole. She was popular, cute, trendy. Only catch, she wasn't allowed to be friends with me in school - I was her secret friend. Of course outside of school, we were inseparable but that didn't  matter. School is a whole other area of life.

That summer between grade and middle school, I got contacts, cut my hair and got some fashion sense. I went to Junior High and became popular! Can you believe that? Guys were falling over me and girls looked to me for fashion advise! OMG! 

What could ruin this new-found  life? I was date raped. I was afraid to tell anyone. I wasn't allowed at a boys house without his parents being home.  My dad dropped me and one of girl friends off at our middle school to practice for our basketball tryouts. Instead we walked to P's house (which is what we planned to do) and met him and his 2 friends and hung out for a bit. Skip the middle stuff - you dont' need details. But this was one of the times where ya think, "Gee, I should have listened to my parents." I couldn't have sad anything without marring myself in the process.

So, it lay low... life went on. Until High School. P suddenly felt a need to torment me and my family. He'd call and call me names to myself and to my brothers who wanted to beat the crap out of him. Lucky that these were pre-Caller-ID and *69. So, him and his friends would call and torment me and call me names like "slut" and "whore". They did this at school too. He told people I slept with him and I was easy (to put it lightly). So, here came more crap. At this point, I didn't care. I had a boyfriend who loved me. I had looks. I had brains. I had been-there-done-that and I didn't care anymore. Not that a teacher would  have stepped in anyway to help.

So i did my thing, stayed away from most people, kinda pulled away from school socialization as much as one could and just wanted out - to make a new start - I was college bound.

So, yeah. That's my life - well, the bullying parts.

I wrote this poem in college about how I would sit on this bench under this tree on the playground at school - just waiting for the time to pass to get back into class. I can feel that pain every time I think of that. I can feel that pain as I drive past that playground. I felt that pain when I learned kids were teasing my nephew at the same school I went to on that same playground.

Under the Tree

Sometimes, I wish I were blind

            Unable to see the faces of distaste

            The snickering grimaces

            The piercing stares.

Sometimes, I wish I were deaf

            Unable to hear their comments

            And the reaction of others to them

            The laughs that made me cry.

Sometimes, I wish I were invisible

To be an unreminder of my existence

            To never bother anyone

To avoid the abuse.

Sometimes, I wish children weren't so cruel

            Maybe then I'd be less callous

Maybe then I wouldn't ever have been called cold-hearted

Maybe I should have cared less about them and more about me.

I wrote this just trying to survive.

Starvation

I am drowning in my own desolation

My head barely above the surface of who I think I am

Beginning to believe I finally found myself

Actually realizing, I am more lost than before

Kicking and screaming, I remain unheard

I am the only one to hear my deafening cries

Self-abusing mutilation of flesh

Desperate attempts for attention

Marks embedded with falsification

Put there by the manifestation of my emotions

Constant reminders of my nature and mental state

My outside houses red to show I am alive

My insides are black and cold

I feel yet feel nothing at once

My head falls below the surface

The kicking and screaming cease into… Silence

I have forgiven most people in my life. I grew up. Most people change. People who I hated I am now friends with and people I held close, are nothing more than a speck in my life. I have often wondered if AJAJ but I do hate what she did to me.

So, could I forgive her?
I re-read my poetry. I looked at the scar on my wrist where I tried to kill myself. I looked at the pictures in the photo box of me alone. I think of that tree. I think of how she made me hate who I was - I hated the very things that Tommy holds dear. I wanted to be anyone other than me. I wished a had a disease that would make people feel sorry for me and care. I would have looked at my elementary school yearbook but I don't have it anymore. I hated it. 

So, no. I would NOT forgive her. She does not deserve ti be forgiven by me. I should not have had to deal with her crap for so many years of my life.

I am lucky in that I am here. I am alive. I have a lot of stuff to bare but I'm okay.

So I love the anti-bullying movement. It hits me in a spot I wish it didnt, but it hits me. I wish it were that easy though.