day of silence

tomorrow on Friday the 17th will be this years day of silence.never heard of it? neither did I but never to late to learn.

the day of silence was brought in existence  in attempt to break the silence of many that suffer from the consequences of bullying of any kind. a wonderful initiative me thinks and I’ll do my part now, I will break my silence about the experiences that I have with bullying. I don’t talk about it much because I’m afraid to open old wounds but to be honest I am not sure it they where ever really healed in the first place.

I was bullied a lot during my childhood, on school mostly but also by kinds in the neighbourhood. name-calling mostly, they called me everything bad they could think of. they said I was ugly, weird and they always made clear that I was unwanted. during those years I often wondered why and back then I didn’t know. now I can see that I was a strange child and that may have frightened them or something, or it was just fun and easy to do. I mean I didn’t do anything against it, maybe they thought I didn’t mind.

the consequentness for me where that I felt not save especially  in school, everybody seemed to be against me and found it very hard to tell who I could trust. (of course they where good things back then, don’t want to give the impression that life was a hell because it wasn’t). another consequense of the name calling was that I looked for a explaination for why they did it. I don’t know if you know Occam’s razor, that states that the simples answer is usarly the right one and the simplest answer that I came to (and the only answer) was that they where right. if everyone thought that I was a ugly, useless person then I must be, they couldn’t be all wrong.  it felt back then that everybody thought this of me (every child anyway) but now I see that the bully’s where not that many the others sometime went along with it and no one did anything against it. and so became the name calling part of how I felt about myself and thought about myself. so in a way I became my own bully.

the other children stoped with name-calling and stuff but the idea that I am a worthless, ugly girl stayed even  to this day, I can’t seem to get it out of my head.

later in my life I met another bully, this time it was a grownup, a teatcher that thought that name calling and yelling was a good way to motivate teenagers into working. I never was the target of his mean words but I got hurt by them. somehow I couldn’t ignore his words, I always got hurt as if he was yelling at me. I complaind this time, but got no help from others. he wasn’t talking about or to me so I had nothing to complain about, and the others didn’t seem to care so much and didn’t seem to get hurt. I’m problably just over sentitive about these things.

the last thing I want to say is that I try not to hate the people that did this to me because they where just as me children and kids don’t realise what kind of damage they are doing. they problably grew up to be fine people.


3 responses to “day of silence

  1. I think children merely imitate the bullying they observe at every level of the adult world.

  2. Julia from Bristol

    It is often words rather than physical attacks that leave the worse scars. They are like a dripping tap inside the head that just keep filling that space inside with more & more pieces like a jigsaw. The difference is that the picture is wrong but by the time it can be identified, the damage is done & it takes a long time to remove those distorted pieces & replace them the correct ones.
    It is also only the ‘lucky’ ones who find out it was not them at all!!

  3. Yes. It causes a great deal of harm.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s