With the recent episodes of cyber bullying and the ferocity of bullying in schools today, it has forced me to really take a look back at my school days. In particular the 3 years of relentless hell spent at Stafford's Weston Road High School. Thinking about it now is difficult and it has had a significant effect on my personality and social seclusion. Habits such as hiding away from people or constantly keeping eyes to the floor which have still remained hard for me to break.
It would be unfair to say that the horrific time I had at that school is the cause of my more recent anxiety disorders (until recently, because of a certain ex boyfriend, my confidence was so shattered that I was becoming agoraphobic, too afraid to even look out of a window and getting to the point where I would seldom leave the bedroom, but that is a whole other story that I will address later.) but I do believe that the foundations were set in my early teenage years.
I went to a local comprehensive high school like so many of my peers. Unfortunately the antics of cousins and other family members meant that I was branded the same way. Not helped by some defects that made me substantially different to other kids. I was taunted relentlessly because of my eyes, my walking, the fact I was always hunched over, just to name a few things. The effect this had on me is long term and I find it very hard to trust people and prefer to stay away from others. It had a massive effect on my confidence and expectations in life. I eventually got to the point where I was so depressed and miserable I began self harming and made some attempts on my life.
A typical day back then would start not at school, but often enroute. Whether it was the 2 mile walk from Cull Avenue, or the 45 minute busride from Highfields. I'd still deal with antagonism and cruelty from my peers. Names shouted, even sometimes older boys trying to take blows at me. For a young girl, it was frightening and things never improved when I was finally AT school. Stress made me underachieve, a certain teacher throwing her usual brand of verbal abuse, all because I wasn't sporty, I was arty. I didn't play sport, couldn't care for fashion or make up. I danced to my own beat and loved to make music or draw. I read books or played on computers. Other kids thought I was weird, so sometimes just to make them leave me alone, I acted it. A lot of the shallow people there didn't interest me.
By the time I was in year 9, after my parent's divorce, my brother's vicious behavior towards me and the upheaval of having to leave my family home to live in a whole new place. I was distraught. And I finally snapped. I became aggressive and angry at everyone, lashing out at people, regardless of who they were and eventually I suffered a nervous breakdown. I was off school for a week but was no better on return, the doctor tried to get my mum to agree to antidepressants at 14. Eventually I was left with no choice but to be taken out of that school.
I found it hypocritical when I read posts from people who used to do some horrible things to me, they were going on about how "wrong" it was. Yet it wasn't wrong when they did EXACTLY the same to me? No one ever said they were sorry. No one ever actually asked whether what they did had contributed to my problems now. I found that, and still do find that disgusting and repugnant. There is nothing more disgusting than a bully and I will always believe that.
3 years ago