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An Open Letter to My Bullies

Thanks for everything.

By Joy Beyond the DarkPublished 3 years ago 7 min read
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An Open Letter to My Bullies
Photo by Ilayza Macayan on Unsplash

Dear Bullies,

I don’t know if you remember me or not, but I certainly remember you. And never in a million years did i think i’d be writing you this letter. But there is so much I want to share with you.

When I say I remember you, I mean that I remember how you treated me. I remember all of the things you did to me. In elementary school. In junior high. High school too, although it wasn’t as bad because I went to vo-tech for half the day. That probably saved me from worse harassment. I remember how much I hated school and how I dreaded leaving in the morning.

In elementary school it was the constant whispers. You thought i was too stupid to know you were talking about me. Too stupid to realize you were judging literally everything about me. My hair. My hand-me-down clothes. We faced financial hardship so we couldn’t get the newest and most stylish clothing. Picking on me for my simple packed lunch. It was what we could afford at the time. Never being chosen for a team in gym class. I was always one of the last kids standing in the spot where we would line up. We were the “rejects” no one wanted. Throwing things at me during class or making me the target at recess. Blaming me for something you did, so that I would get in trouble for once. So many times I got warnings or sent down to the principal’s office for things I knew I didn't do. But no one cared when I tried to speak up. I would just get in deeper trouble for “arguing”. By the time I got off the school bus at the top of my street, I would be in tears as I walked home. I thought going to junior high would be better. Maybe you would all start to grow up as we entered our teenage years. But I was so horribly wrong.

You see, you guys just didn’t give it up when junior high started. And you found more “friends” that could join you in the tormenting. First the whispers got worse...then you amped it up and started to just say it to my face. I remember the name calling. Stupid. Ugly. B***h. Or the time you put water on my seat in 7th grade math class. Not enough for me to notice, but just enough to make a spot on the back of my pants. And then as I stood up to go to the blackboard, you all chanted “Amy peed her pants”. And I had the horrible realization of what just happened. Like a bull, you rammed my unsuspecting self into lockers as I walked down the hallway. You would step on the backs of my shoes so that I’d trip and fall. Knocked my books and folders out of my hands, and watched as my papers were blown all over the hallway. Ripped my purse off my shoulder and kicked it from one hallway to the next. You were the reason I was late for my classes. I can still see the look of pure evil in your faces as you stood and laughed at what you were doing to me. Totally pleased with yourselves. As I walked my mile home at the end of the day, you made sure to follow right behind me to continue to harass me. You would gang up with your “friends” in the alley and offer me drugs, say disgusting things to me, and block my path so I couldn’t get through. I had nightmares because I thought that one day something really terrible would happen to me.

In high school you wrote the most derogatory things possible about me on the bathroom walls and in the stalls...over and over again. One of my best friends told the principal. And when the janitor cleaned it off, you made sure to put it right back. You felt some kind of satisfaction, knowing that the horrible things you wrote about me could potentially be a permanent fixture at the school. For all I know someone could be reading those things today, 15 years later.

When I went to nursing school after we graduated, I took a lot of those things with me. Every time someone whispered, I couldn’t help but assume it was about me. I was scared to become friends with those my age. Scared that even though it was all new surroundings, someone would want to bully me. And I was right to a point. There were a number of girls that I knew right off the bat didn’t like me for whatever reason. And they made it known. I had a few friends who were my age, but most of them were much older. They didn’t try to hurt me every day.

And you know what made it all even worse? I never knew why I was your target. What could I have possibly done that made you hate me that much? My entire time in school, I was the quiet girl that got along with everyone. I didn’t have a huge group of friends by any means. I had a small circle, but everyone else was friendly to me. If it weren’t for you guys, I wouldn’t have minded school. I hated getting in trouble. I always had pretty much straight A’s. I consistently made the high honor roll all the way through high school. I graduated in the top 20% of the class with a 3.8 GPA. I kept to myself. I never started any problems with anyone. Which is why I just couldn’t understand why you all would treat me the way you did.

In addition, I NEVER received any help from teachers or principals. My mom wrote letters to them. Of course, nothing was done though. Sometimes the bullying would happen right in front of a teacher, and they would just look the other way. In high school, one of my best friends and I talked to the principal about what was going on. She didn’t care, or even attempt to stop it. Do you have any idea how damaging that was? I thought that they were all supposed to be there to help and support us as we went through school. Obviously that wasn’t the case for many of them.

But as I got older, something clicked. You had no choice but to bully me. By you doing so, you were ignoring your own mental pain of how you felt about yourself. None of that mattered anymore. You could no longer fall victim to your own insecurities. You had a new victim. Or maybe you were bored and needed to find pleasure in something as terrible as bullying. Or maybe you had a bad home life, and you didn’t know any different. Maybe the peer pressure got you, and you needed to join in on the torment for acceptance. I guess I’ll never know the “why”. And so, we get to the whole point of this letter. There’s some things I want you to know.

Some of you friended me on social media. No idea why. But I do look at your profiles. Not because I want to be friends. Absolutely not. But because I was genuinely curious how your life turned out. And many times I sat in awe, wondering how someone, who was so cruel as a child/teenager, could seem like they’re doing so well in life. I prayed that you grew up now that you’re an adult. I saw some of you took part in Boyertown’s No Place For Hate activities. How ironic. I saw many of you now have children of your own, and I wonder what they’re like. Are they bullies like you were? You may not even be aware of it. Teach your children to love and care about everyone. Worse than your child being a bully...I pray that none of them are being bullied like I was. Talk to your children. Get insight into their school life. Because both scenarios are absolutely terrible.

But what I really want to say to you, may not be what you’re thinking after reading this letter. Oh trust me, there’s PLENTY of things I’d like to say to you. But then I’d be just like you, wouldn’t I? Instead, what I want to say is “Thank You”. Yes, you heard me correct. Thank you. Thank you for making me more compassionate. Thank you for making me search for the parts of me that I thought were lost. Thank you for teaching me to defend myself when necessary. Thank you for helping me to connect better with others from all walks of life. I see past every wall put up. Behind every face is a story waiting to be told. All we have to do is listen. And now all of you are a part of my story. So thank you. Thank you for helping me to learn to accept the woman I’m becoming. Thank you for helping me develop strength. Thank you for helping me become the person I am today. I don’t know if I could have done it without you.

Thank you for knocking me down. Because time and time again, you showed me that I can get back up. In the past, present, and future.

Kind regards,

Amy

humanity
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About the Creator

Joy Beyond the Dark

Life is a journey. A journey of ups, downs, and in-betweens. A journey that no one should have to face alone. I've been through a lot in life, and want to show others that you can still find joy despite what life throws at you.

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