A letter to my bullies

This edition is going to look a little different; it’s the last day of Anti-Bullying Week, an initiative that aims to raise awareness about bullying, and its impact, as well as celebrate diversity.

As someone who was bullied throughout their formative years, this is kinda personal for me. So I’m sharing an open letter to my bullies because This is Me.

Introverts can often be targeted by bullies because they can appear to be easy targets (especially if they are also shy), and because they tend to keep to themselves and are often alone, as opposed to being part of a group.

We also deviate from social norms, and anything that deviates from the norm tends to be a prime target for bullying.

Additionally, introverts can struggle to set strong boundaries and may be less likely to fight back.

Maio (2019) found ‘personality traits, such as extraversion…are significantly associated with school bullying’ and that those with a low level of self-concept (as can often happen when we deviate from the norm) were more likely to be bullied.

So, whilst this edition isn’t specifically about my introversion, I feel my introverted nature did make me an easier target for bullying as well as having impacted how I reacted to the situation.

Dear bullies,

I often wonder if you still think about me, and what you did, as I do you. Do you even remember me? Are you aware of the scars your words and actions tattooed on my soul? If you are, do you even care? Do you feel regret? Shame? Or nothing at all?

Even now, decades later, the root of my self-limiting beliefs, doubts and fears can be traced back to you. Your names are imprinted on my mind; seeing them pop up on social media makes my heart skip a beat and tension creep across my shoulders.

I am weighed down by these memories.

I want so badly to reclaim my power; to not allow what you said and did to continue to impact my life, but, honestly, it’s an ongoing battle.?

Not least because there were so many of you.

Throughout my formative years, I consistently experienced being deliberately isolated, verbally abused and threatened…over, and over again, just with different people and groups.

It took me until my mid thirties to actually love my own hair because, whilst it has always attracted a lot of positive attention, as humans we tend to remember the bad rather than the good.

I’ve been carrying the box of shame you handed me all these years.

So I clearly remember the graffiti scrawled all over our school.?

I remember wishing I could disappear, evaporate like morning dew, to lose the burden of unwanted nicknames, like ‘Honey Monster’ (I’ve never been able to eat that cereal because of the association).

I remember how the words, “Ginger freak” hit me like a physical slap as I walked down the street. How the knowledge that this was someone I didn’t even know gave the words even more weight. The word ‘ginger’ still makes me flinch internally, and sticks in my throat.

I remember the juxtaposition of loving school, but existing a state of perpetual anxiety because I didn’t know what fresh hell I would have to face each day; the fear of constantly being challenged to a fight, when I don’t have a violent bone in my body; the humiliation of being surrounded and spat on.?

I remember the aching loneliness as you’d make sure the one friend I did have would spend break time with you, leaving me perpetually sitting alone.

I remember not even feeling safe in my own home, because of the phone calls, and rocks thrown at my window.

To you, I wasn’t human. I was an object, something worthless. Disposable. Disgusting.

I internalised that disgust and let it poison me.

An only child, quiet and shy, I didn’t have the tools to process, or deal with, what was happening. I didn’t tell my parents because I didn’t want them to worry; we’d experienced a lot of family illnesses and bereavement and I didn’t want to add to the burden. I also felt ashamed; admitting what was happening felt like admitting there was something wrong with me.?

I therefore dealt with what was happening in the only way I knew how: by myself.?

I’d come home from school and vent my rage and frustration by first playing AC/DC’s This Means War as loud as I could, then crying throughout the entirety of Ride On. Because that felt like the only way I could respond and release the emotions; not once did I say anything directly to any of you. Or report you. When a friend’s grandfather witnessed me being spat on and reported it to the school, our teachers just told us to be friends. If only it was that simple.

There were times where I’d wish I didn’t exist; times where how to make that a reality crossed my mind.

What actually happened was each of these events got neatly packed away and, even now, I keep unpacking remnants of trauma.

Earlier this year I lost the friendship of two close friends because trauma I didn’t even realise I had got triggered by a situation involving all three of us. It was never about them; it was about you. But it resulted in them choosing not to continue with our friendship regardless.

I’ve had many types of therapy; I’ve done, and am doing, a LOT of inner work, but in spite of that I haven’t fully released the baggage you gave me. My mental health has been an ongoing struggle.

By the time I left school I had such a poor self image that, for over a decade of my life, I refused to be in a single photo; I’d have a panic attack if anyone tried to take a picture of me. Seeing myself was uncomfortable but I also felt legitimate guilt about inflicting my hideousness on anyone else. I’m not exaggerating.

I’d look in the mirror and feel deeply ashamed of the person looking back at me; I’d call myself names I’d never even think about someone else; I treated myself with the same contempt as you’d treated me.

Those narratives and beliefs are so deeply ingrained that, even now, I sometimes default back to these thoughts and feel ashamed of my appearance. And I’ve come a long long way. Sometimes, I look at my image in a photo, or a video, and feel that creeping shame and self-disgust; it’s a struggle to reprogramme myself.

You made me feel I wasn’t enough.

I was weird.

Something was wrong with me.

I wasn’t worthy of basic human respect, let alone love.

These beliefs meant I’ve always struggled to put myself first; to be assertive. I’ve been a people-pleaser my whole life because a part of me has always been seeking acceptance and love.?

I’ve had to teach myself to set boundaries as if I were a child.

Twenty-five + years later, I am learning to fully love myself and transform my tattooed scars into works of art.

There is no hate in my heart for you, but when I’ve achieved total indifference I’ll know that I’ve reclaimed my power.?

I’ve always tried to find the positive in every situation, and this one’s no different: because of you, I’ve been on a mission to help ensure no one else has to ever feel they’re not enough. It’s early days, but I have big plans and I won’t stop until I’ve achieved them.

For that, but only that, I thank you.

Sam

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Reach Out

The Anti-Bullying Week call to action is ‘reach out’: ‘If we challenge it, we can change it. And it starts by reaching out’.

The scars of bullying can last a lifetime and seriously impact mental health.

My DMs are always open; I encourage you to help us create kinder communities by reaching out to, and supporting, each other, setting positive examples and reflecting on our own actions.

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About Me

I help introverts develop authentic confidence, through coaching, training and digital products, so that they can thrive without having to change who they are, and companies through training, coaching and consultancy, to address the workplace bias towards extroversion.

Through developing my own authentic confidence I have been able to build a life on my terms, working part-time for full-time income, travel solo around the world, work with companies like Google and speak, with confidence, to entire auditoriums. I've already helped thousands of individuals, across 169 countries globally, to develop confidence and communication skills, as well as manage Imposter Syndrome and limiting beliefs. Helping others feel enough is my passion.

If you are an introvert looking to feel more confident, set boundaries to help you balance your time and be able to understand, and communicate, your value to others; a leader looking to better support your introverted talent; or a company committed to achieving intersectional equity and inclusion, DM me or?visit my website, to find out more about how I can help you.

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