Bullies

I’m a bully’s dream. I get hurt instantly. That thick skin I’ve convinced myself I have weakens at the slightest dig. I give them what they want without hesitation, without pause. I surrender to their abuse almost reflexively, perhaps in the hope that it won’t continue further. And that it’s done. Over with. Just anything to make it stop, even if it hasn’t even started yet. They’ve caught me on their hook. I flounder, and gasp for air, like a fish out of water. While they toy, teasingly, with their line, casually dangling me above the water. They have me at their mercy, and I’ve given them that rush, the reaction, and that feeling of being all mighty and high. And I wait, submissive and patient, for their euphoria to fade.

To be frank, I forgot the menace of bullies. Which, if I were to share that much of my childhood was colored by instances of bullying, is surprising. You would think that as someone who cycled through one mean girl to another, groups of mocking teenage boys, and even some immature adults who should have known better, I would be more cautious, more wary of people’s intentions. While the cynic I am dominates most of the naive, optimistic thoughts that occur, sometimes I do let my guard down. I mean, life can’t just be about bad people, can it? There has to be some good out there, and I have to at least try to see it.

However of late, I have myself questioning even the faintest streak of hope, and trust I have in building relationships, friendships, acquaintances even.

What I have truly never understood is the motive behind bullying. Article after article, psychology aside, we are to accept that a bully acts basis off of either their past experience or their insecurities, or both. That still doesn’t justify to me being hurtful to someone else. And, it will never be justified to me to purposefully harm anyone. Whatever pleasure, happiness, joy bullies seem to derive from hurting someone, seeing them flail, cry, won’t heal their own trauma, demons, and unhappiness that incentives them. Temporarily, maybe, but then what? On to the next?

Even indulging in this post is feeding into the bully’s ego as it shows just how much they have affected me. I’m not shy about it. Those moments in kindergarten where my brown skin was pointed out and ridiculed. Every gym class in middle school with snide comments about my chest and lack of athleticism. Those aunties poking fun at my chubbiness and endless appetite. “Friends” spreading malicious rumors to alienate, and punish me.

I gave in to all of these instances.

Whether it was by losing weight, growing my hair to look more girly, refusing a plate of snacks while boasting about my diet, limiting my time in the sun, crying endlessly and uncontrollably; I gave in.

And I shouldn’t have.

I tell myself now, who are they to dictate how I feel about myself?

To put words in my mouth?

How did I let their one comment blind me from the love, support and empathy of my family and friends?

Have I put such little value on the positive affirmations given by myself and my family that I am able to immediately trust whatever a bully says about me?

My reaction to a bully is a reflection of my own self-worth and respect. I love myself first. I trust myself first. This is what my understanding and relationship with myself should have been from the beginning. From the very first time someone made me feel less than I am. I know this now. I will not disrespect myself by latching onto their bait. I know better than that. Catch me, why don’t you. I won’t let you.