I read a lot of blogs. Today’s post by Bitch Cakes, really hit home, like a lot of blog entries sometimes do not. She talked about encountering and facing her childhood bully.
Now like many people out there who were “different,” I was bullied, teased and made fun of. As a kid and teen, I was overweight, didn’t have the right clothes, didn’t know how to talk to others, and was pretty much a social recluse, to anyone other than my closest friends. I was an easy target, and I fell for it every time. I was miserable.
One day in 8th grade a group of girls who I considered friends left me a note at the lunch table we sat at telling me to go away, (in various languages) and said they had no more use for me. I was devastated. I fell into a deep depression. I didn’t want to go to school, and was all but truant. When I went to school, I hid in the bathroom at lunchtime b/c I was scared, lonely, and ashamed. I even tried to commit suicide I was so upset and alone.
In the end I was caught hiding in the bathroom, things changed, I made new friends, and I grew to care less about what people thought of me, or at least pretended to on the outside.
But Bitch Cake’s post made me think about my response to all of this and how I’ve plotted revenge over the years on the ringleader of the entire incident, of how I’ve wanted to even the score of those who hurt my feelings and made me a laughingstock later on in high school.
But now, a little part of me makes me wonder if that is worth it? I am sure I am have more education than all of them now (being on my second Masters and all and thinking of pursing my PhD.) While I may not have a husband and kids and a white picket fence, I do have something now, that they can’t take away. And that is something to think about.