Bullies Suck

There’s been a great deal of attention in the media about the epidemic of bullies these days. Last year there was the story of Phoebie Prince, age 15 who killed herself because of bullies at her new school and recently there are the suicides of Billy Lucas, age 15; Cody Barker, age 17; Seth Walsh, age 13; Tyler Clementi, age 18; Asher Brown, age 13; Harrison Brown, age 15; Raymond Chase, age 19; Felix Sacco, age 17; and Caleb Nolt, age 14 - all in September 2010.

I’ve made no secret of the fact that I found myself the odd girl out when I was 13. I’m still not sure what I did, but one Monday I came to school and found myself on the outside and being the butt of jokes. The hurt still stings, I can still remember coming home from school, locking myself in the kitchen, turning on the soap opera One Life to Live and crying while ramming Oreo cookies in my mouth (the soap opera was so there would be an excuse if I was caught crying). My family knew what was going on, but still I tried to conceal the pain. Since that point, I’ve always thought of myself as a dork, and particularly cautious with people outside of my family. To this day, irrational though it may be, if I hear groups of people laughing (especially females), I assume they are laughing about me – oh the ego.

At that time, I went to bed wishing I wouldn’t wake up the next day. I didn’t actively think about suicide; I still planned to become a lawyer, marry Michael J. Fox, move to Connecticut and drive a Porsche. I just wanted to sleep through the rough years and come out on the other side OK. Funny that I still want the same thing now (i.e. weight loss – just put me in a coma, help me lose the weight painlessly, and wake me up when it’s over). Even at 35 (going on 36) I don’t want to go through the growing pains that shape you.

If I could go back in time and talk to my 13 year old self, I’m sure she would think I was crazy. I’d tell that overweight, extremely busty girl that it would turn out OK – oh, and that flat, straight hair would be just A-OK. The boobs would be reduced, that while we’d always struggle with our weight, there was a way out, and that two of the girls that I thought of as my chief tormentors would turn out to be two of my best friends - I’d look forward to hanging out with them, we’d commiserate about the rough times, and turn to each other now in the bad times.

I’d tell her that it gets better.

While I’m not gay, and have never been bullied because of my sexuality, I was bullied because of things out of my control. I feel like I can relate on some small level to Phoebe, Billy, Cody, Seth, Tyler, Asher, Harrison, Raymond, Felix and Caleb. While my private life wasn’t broadcast on the internet, my sexuality wasn’t being mocked or questioned, I wasn’t being beat up or called a slut, I felt like I had lost my world. My friends were gone, I felt I was alone and the butt of the jokes. In a word, it sucked.

I’m glad I didn’t check out. I’m glad I didn’t go into the “magic coma” of my fantasies, because the pain I went through in my teen years has made me a more compassionate person today. I want to sit the people down who made the lives of these teenagers a living hell and explain to them what it will be like in future years; that they won’t always be on top; that Karma is a bitch. But mostly I want to talk to the kids who have decided that suicide was the answer. I want to give them a hug, some words of reassurance.

I want to tell them that it does get better.