Making sense of things

Good morning, dear reader. I made a post about how I was bullied. Now, I would like to talk about how that influenced me.

I never felt like I belong in that group, I was completely invalidated by them.

I think that has shaped me. All throughout my life I’ve been rejected by people, mostly friends. I only started to feel like I belonged in a group when I was in 8th grade but my best friend at the time, Sandra, ended up rejecting me because of a boy. It was in high school that I really felt I belonged. My friends loved me and really cared. I started to heal from my childhood trauma and I trusted them with my life. Then my life started falling apart, I started becoming another person. Someone who was unstable, unreliable. They started to pull away. I only started to notice towards the end of our friendship. I noticed that they started to invite me to hang out less and less. Once, I met one of my close friends and told her that I would like to hang out with the group more. She said okay but a few days later and no calls from her or them, I went to the coffee shop where we used to hang out and saw them there. It started to hit me but I couldn’t really see it. It hurt too much.

The breaking point came in a sunny afternoon in June. My friend who lived in Spain came home for the holidays and she invited me to have coffee with a few other friends because it was her birthday. One of the people that were there was Sandra. She had become friends with my friends and she still hated my guts.

People started giving her gifts and one of the gifts was a ticket for a concert. They all had tickets for the concert and it was sold out. So I left. I was heartbroken. How could they forget about me? I messaged one of my friends and she didn’t reply. I, then, talked to another friend on facebook and she told me that it wasn’t planned. When I replied, she didn’t answer. I felt enraged, bitter and out of control. I blocked all of them on social media.

I was devastated and overwhelmed by negative thoughts. It was like I had fallen into a bottomless pit, I just felt like I was continually being sucked into a hole. I started digging the hole myself, smoking more and more hash. In the morning, I would wake up crying when I realized I was no longer friends with them.

I became a shut-in. I had major depression along with BPD ( borderline personality disorder). I became scared of living and paranoid. I had a psychotic episode that year, following that situation. What kept me from being committed was my boyfriend. He knew how much I had suffered in psych wards, so he told my parents he would take care of me and he did. He was wonderful, he would try to reason with me in a loving and compassionate way. He would make me feel understood, loved and almost “normal”. He is part of my healing process, a big part. It is my first stable relationship and the first man that really respects me. I can never thank him enough for what he has done for me.

Thank you for reading this.

Image by Anemone123, courtesy of Pixabay.


Venting about bullying

I was bullied from 3 to 12 years old. The bullies were my best friends. They teased me, mocked me, made fun of me anytime they could. I was the joke. I still feel intense shame sometimes. Shame is one of the worst feelings I experience. I know it all too well. I think that is why I become a people pleaser. I need to be validated all the time. I’m not as much as I used to be, I’m slowly letting go of this character defect.

I thought they were beautiful and wonderful. I truly wanted to be one of them, trades my life with theirs. I remember in 2nd or 3rd grade, one of them (let’s call her Sarah) told me I could be a substitute best friend. That hurt me so much. Monica (fictitious name) was my neighbor for many years. She was the meanest of them all. She would be as mean as she could with me. Sometimes being with her was good but sometimes it was terrible. Andrew (fictitious name) was the closest to me. When we were alone he was nice and we had fun. I used to love hanging out at his house and have sleepovers. He would write me letters that I still keep, telling me how much he loved me and how he missed me. He could also be mean when the four of us were together. It’s like they were stars and I was a secondary character.

Later, when I was 13, they asked to be transferred to another school and the bullying almost stopped. We started growing apart. Now they are successful, hardworking people. Monica is now a loving mother and artist, Sarah is a writer and Andrew is also an artist. I don’t hold anything against them, as we were children. I wish them the best and I’ll never forget the good times we had.

I feel ashamed for going through this without telling my parents but, unfortunately, I did not react in that way. My Mother told me that if she had known at the time, she would have separated me from them. Could have been, should have done. It’s not possible anymore. I still have a lot to heal but I think therapy will help me a lot.

Thank you for reading this and tell me your story.

Image by Alexas_Fotos, courtesy of Pixabay.