How I Learned Not To Give Shit

“Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will leave psychological scars forever.”

Growing up, I’ve had my share of bullying. I’ve never been the doer of the act though, mostly – nay… always the recipient.

As a young girl being bullied always left me wondering what I did wrong. I always asked myself, “What did I do this time?” Try as I might I can’t really remember anything I did that would warrant verbal abuse from a classmate. I stayed in line; I kept to myself, and only completely interacted with one or two close friends.

The second grade was my first encounter of bullying ­– at least the verbal kind. Before the second grade I was oblivious enough that the first onslaught of bullying shocked me. Name-calling, insults, and extreme teasing were foreign concepts to me. I was content to be the carefree kid until two girls from my grade decided it would please them to put me in my place.

Every day from then on was a practice of patience. As I wasn’t raised to physically accost fellow children who got in my face I was relegated to keep silent and let the tears fall. I was 8 years old. I had no concept of vanity at that young age. I never showed off and, like I said, I mostly kept to myself or hung out with only my closest friends. Now as an adult I do try to understand the why’s of the bullying but clearly no dice.

Often times I would be singled out for a round of degradation. At moments I tried to understand their reasons for bullying me or anyone else; put myself in their shoes, if you may, and yet I could not find one reason that made sense. It always seemed extra special when it came to lambasting me, like an event that only happens once every year. Unable to find reason, I came to the conclusion that there was a particular something about me that attracted that kind of mean attention.

I guess some people are just mean. Truthfully, we all are capable of meanness. I know this because I have lived it and when the occasion calls for it I can be a bitch but I choose not to show that side of me. I understand that it is not pleasing to or hear and as a female, it paints a bad picture for woman kind everywhere.

After the second the abuse waned and I found myself glad to be back in a carefree, unafraid life at school. The years passed and though the bullying was near non-existent I had found that people will judge you, find every little thing to direct contempt to, and talk about behind your back. Needless to say my pre-teen years were spent trying to create an image that would please everyone – one that would grant me my meal ticket to popularity.

Popularity seemed like the Holy Grail. If you were popular everyone liked you ergo nobody was unkind to you and you were treated like – well, like you were human, or a rather awesome human. Around the time I struggled in my quest for popularity I was studying in an all-girls campus. Studying there made me realize how vicious girls can be, and really it was another form of bullying – the silent kind. You see, most girls judge each other very harshly, hence my hardships trying to get to the top of the social hierarchy. When you think about it I was willing to go through the same kind of smack down I got when I was younger to be accepted. I just wanted that reverence that came with being popular.

I was determined to start anew come high school but at the beginning things didn’t go as I thought it would.

Yes. Same shit, different people, different school.

Sophomore year was most definitely the worst year I had in my educational career. As I finally found my niche academically and making good grades, so decides the universe to throw verbal abuse and victimization back into the mix. By this time I’ve given up on trying to discern my classmates’ motives for picking on me.

To enumerate there were name-calling, ridiculous gossip, manipulation of feelings (I had a crush on one of the bullies), and the best – hate for being specifically good at something. Oh, it was hell. I thought it was bad in grade school but apparently it got schooled by high school bullying because in high school there is so much more to judge and the standards are higher.

Yet it was also sophomore year that I learned to stand my ground and let it all just bounce off me. A rubber-glue-back-to-you persona emerged and I grew a thicker skin. I considered bullying part of growing up, part of what made me who I am today. People all throughout life will judge you and paint you a cruel world and they wouldn’t know any better. What is important is how you handle yourself in the face this unkindness. In the end, the only opinions that matter are the ones that you yourself form and those of the ones you love, that’s it.

Know that words may hurt but it will pass, if you let it. Move forward and learn from them just as you learn to shake it off.