Here’s What Happened After Being Bullied in High School
Is making friends supposed to feel like I’m trying to convince a club bouncer that my name is on the list? Friendship — It’s the hottest party of the century!
Sure, once in a while, I can get in. But I immediately nope out of there when it sounds like everyone is speaking Pig Latin.
At 25 years old, I (finally) feel brave enough to confront the sources of my social anxiety and express how deeply being bullied has harmed me.
1 — I know what it feels like to be collectively disliked and begrudgingly tolerated.
A moment that stands out to me was during my senior year. My group of friends would meet in the same spot every morning before classes began. I noticed fewer and fewer folks would meet up there, and before long, I was alone. I eventually found their new spot in a cramped, student office. Coincidentally, there wasn’t enough room for an additional person.
I tried not to read into the change in location until I started to join them. One day, I was early enough to grab a seat. As folks would trickle in, I could sense the tension in their reactions to me.
I felt unwelcome.
Every interaction with me was undercut with contempt.
The back of my neck felt hot with self-consciousness.
Why isn’t there laughter in my presence?
Why am I being treated like I don’t exist?
Why do I ruin things?
In reality, it was hard to ignore their coldness towards me growing over the semester. But I was stubborn, and didn’t want to give into their passive aggressive antics without pushing back. So I asked:
“Why does it feel like no one here likes me?”
This could have been their chance to come clean, acknowledge they were being unkind, something. But it’s easier to throw me under the bus, with something I can now identify as gaslighting:
“No one here doesn’t like you.”
There was a moment of relief yet, in that packed room, I felt miles away from anybody else. I repressed feeling like I was being lied to for the rest of the school year. Their behaviour continued.
Looking back, I’m proud of myself for asking why I was being mistreated by people who I thought were my friends.
At the time, I won two national Henry’s photography competitions. With these folks, we would often have photoshoots and develop film together. We made memories I still cherish. I am confused how they could enjoy my company and talent one moment, yet act like I didn’t matter the next.
Because of this experience, I’ve carried the belief that my friends actually don’t like me, well into my mid-20s.
2 — I expect people wont accept me as their friend.
A year later, I learned the same “friends” shared a facebook group where they cyber-bullied me without my knowledge.
I am only privy to a slice of their conversations because one person came forward to take accountability for their part in bullying me.
At this point, we were all in our first year of University. This news surprised me because I hadn’t seen or heard from them in more than a year.
I only recently learned this facebook group was created during high school to strategize excluding me from their table at prom. To my knowledge, it still exists.
Today, I feel winded. The pieces have come together.
They created this facebook group and spoke ill of me well in advance of that day in the smelly, sweaty office. They made a pact to intentionally sideline me.
I wasn’t wrong.
I correctly identified when I was being abused.
But that hurt has stayed with me for years.
Finding out about the anti-me facebook group harmed my ability to make new friends to this day.
The COVID-19 pandemic marked the first time most people would social distance. By 2020, however, I was already several years into self-isolation.
As embarrassing as this is to admit, being a hermit has been my normal and the shutdown was not a new experience for me. What I found surprising, was how uncommon long-term, sequestered living seemed for everybody else. They had community to lean on.
I began to wonder, why don’t I have networks of friends I could ask for support or to play online games with?
It looks so easy for other people, but I have been afraid and anxious.
I feel like people look at me and instantly see a branded “L” on my forehead. I worry they too share a group chat, deploring my existence.
I have trouble believing anybody would want to be my friend.
I rarely feel like I belong.
That I’m not cool, rich, thin, pretty, smart, or good enough to be accepted.
3 — I am willing to try deepening my existing friendships.
The COVID-19 lockdown gave me reprieve from the outside world, so I took a chance to look inward. I have come to appreciate losing those who do not value me. I’ve learned a valuable lesson in self-love and self-respect.
Life is precious, and mine is a gift worth living in the present moment.
Not in the past, where nothing can be changed. Not in the future, anticipating anxiety-fuelled scenarios of betrayals to come. I don’t want the remainder of my 20s to be lived in fear, worried about the way others perceive me.
I am willing to learn how to unravel the painful beliefs I’ve held about myself, and restore them with fresh, brave, and compassionate affirmations.
And I’m ready to be thankful.
Thankful for the chance to deepen my existing connections and venture into making new ones. I am thankful there are people with whom I feel and know I am accepted and safe. I’m grateful for the love I have and can give in life.
I believe I am deserving of belonging.
I am trying again with a clean slate, and I deserve the chance to show up as myself without fear of being rejected. I learned the lesson I needed to. I named it, I spoke it aloud. I am growing around and from it, and now I am putting it away.
If you relate to my story, I promise — so can you.
