3
« on: March 01, 2023, 06:58:12 AM »
When I reflect on this time I don't reflect on the bullying in the way others might. What I felt was an overwhelming feeling of monotony. Every single day. I would wake up early alone to do my chores, I would be harassed by my brothers. I would leave for school where I would be attacked on my way to school. I would sit in class where I would be made to feel stupid and unprepared. I would skip lunch every second day because I had to save up to earn my lunch. I would be attacked on the schoolyard if I didn't stay in class instead. I would be hit while waiting to leave. I would rush back to avoid giving children the chance to group up. I would come inside to an angry mother, do my chores, to be told I did them wrong and do them again, be disciplined for not doing well enough in school, my brothers who would beat me and torture me. I would go to bed at night sad, lonely, trapped. I would have to get up and do the same thing every single day.
I think about my reactions to the bullying more than the bullying itself. For example I think often about having my head put through a window... but every day the same children would grab me by my hair and hit my head repeatedly against a window. I learned that if I stiffened my neck and tried to avoid it, it would pull my hair more and make the force when my neck gave out so much stronger. So, a limp neck was the best technique. I had my head put through a window, and what I remember is learning to be limp and laughter.
There were adults, but in a way I think they were also powerless against it and outnumbered. I never blamed them, except when they actively participated or added insult to injury. Maybe I never expected adults to intervene. Why would I? I never knew that was a reasonable expectation. I never told anyone. I told my mother that once. Just that once. I remember feeling that was a nice interaction. She was giving me her nice side. I trusted that.
Yes, as a mother myself I would absolutely teach my children differently. I am passive and non-violent, but I am empowered differently.
In my past posts I haven't really reflected on myself in these moments, and I want to really practice that going forward. I don't remember my head hurting as it went through the safety glass. I don't remember shock. I don't think I cried. I don't think I did anything. Maybe I realised that it was over then. Maybe I got up and switched seats as if nothing happened. The hair pulling always hurt, but not stiffening my neck solved that, because then they weren't actually pulling. It was a choice I was making. It's always felt the same. Me going along with it takes their power away, because they weren't forcing me.
I realise that this is a coping mechanism and that I was powerless to stop it, but that is how it was... Always. It was relentless , repetitive, and predictable. This was when I started going to sleep at night imagining a different day in my head every night. A different life. I created a story I would build on day by day, one in which I was someone loveable.