Being Bullied: The Effects that Can Last a Lifetime.

About two weeks ago, I randomly received an email from a woman who works at an elementary school in Asheville. She informed me she had received my contact information from the program director of Easter Seals in Asheville who spoke very highly of me. She then told me there is a book club at the elementary school, and in the book the children are reading, the main character has Cerebral Palsy. Based on the high remarks she received from the Asheville Easter Seals program director concerning me, she asked if I’d be willing to come speak to the third through fifth graders about my experiences with CP. Specifically, she asked if I could speak about my experiences of being bullied during my school years.

The email was completely out of the blue, and I was stunned. To have received this kind of opportunity without searching for it is incredible, and I am excited for such a wonderful opportunity. However, the tricky part comes with the focus of the talk: my bullying experiences in school.

It is safe to say my bullying experiences were the worst part of my childhood (excluding my intense surgeries and physical therapy, obviously). As a child, I could not understand why I was being targeted out of everyone in my class. I understand now that children are especially curious about those who are different from them. However, I didn’t know why it always had to be me. During those times, I also didn’t understand why I was so different. All I wanted was to fit in, and by getting bullied I stuck out even more.

I got my hair pulled in kindergarten because I had no way of running away, I got pelted with a dodge ball in middle school because I couldn’t move away from the ball fast enough, and every day in gym class, I was picked last. Though I know those experiences helped me to develop a thicker skin very early on in life, many of the experiences were just plain cruel. There is no other way to say it. They resulted in me coming home from elementary school crying to my parents on a daily basis. I cried over more than just the bullying though. I cried over hating I was so different. I cried over not being able to fit in because my experiences were so different from most of the other kids my age. I cried because it wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. I was a nice kid. I smiled at other kids, I laughed with them, and yet I still didn’t ever really fit in with them.

The complex social aspects of school are difficult for any kid. However, they are especially difficult for any kid who may be a tiny bit different from their peers. I only hope to try to convey this to the children I’ll speak to at the elementary school in Asheville. I don’t want to berate them or tell them to stop being mean. After all, they are kids. Kids are curious, especially regarding things they don’t fully understand. I only hope to explain how children with disabilities should be treated just like any other kid. Yes, they are different, but pointing out their differences and excluding them from activities because they are a little bit unique only makes it that much more difficult for them.

Despite growing a tougher skin due to being bullied, I have carried my bullying experiences with me ever since I was a kid. I remember the specific moments in detail. I remember who targeted me, and I remember exactly the way I felt when I came home and cried. I know now that many of my bullying experiences were not intentional. They were just moments of kids being kids. However, that does not mean I still don’t remember the feeling of walking into gym class with my fingers crossed, silently hoping I wouldn’t have to be pelted with a dodge ball by the one girl who always got so much satisfaction out of being the one to hit me.

The Sense Of Belonging.

We all want to belong. Whether it’s to a family, a state, a university, or a small group of friends, we all want to have a place where we feel like we fit in, while also having the freedom to be ourselves. I’ve struggled with the concept of belonging for my whole life. I think that’s what makes being different the hardest thing. Especially with differences that are able to be physically recognized, it’s easier for (some) outsiders to either look away or just feel uncomfortable. I understand that. I understand that a good amount of people are just close-minded and just don’t know how to react towards someone who isn’t like them. I get it. I mean, heck, we all judge people without even thinking. I do it. You do it. It’s human nature. Sometimes I just wish that others could grasp how hard it is for people who are different.

I know that “belonging” is something that everyone struggles with. It’s hard. It’s one of those curveballs that life throws us: the ones that seem easy, but end up being something totally different. Granted, some people have no problem fitting it. But for people who are even a little bit unique, it can be a battlefield. A place where the critical concepts are being careful about wear you step, while also knowing that any step could result in stepping on a landmine. Yes, that’s a weird example, but it fits. I mean, no one knows how others are going to react to them. We all like to lean towards the side of hoping it’ll turn out positively. Thinking that way is healthier and causes less anguish. But what happens when it just doesn’t go our way? Then do we start from scratch searching for others like us, or do we try to seek out the people who we want friends with because they seem interesting?

While it would make sense for me to find other kids with CP to be friends with, that’s not the path most of us who are different take. Anyone who is different will tell you that all they want is to be like everyone else. They just want to be accepted. In a society full of prejudice and racism and stereotypes, all any of us wants is to be treated equal no matter what. Though we hear those words in different contracts, it really comes down to how your peers and others your age view you.

The thing is though is that I have amazing friends that mean the world to me. They don’t care that I have CP because they know that I’m so much more than a stupid label. And that means so much to me. If I have nothing else, I have the ability to turn to my friends and family when things get rough. Yes, I’m so happy to have them in my life, but there are still days when I wish it was easier to feel like I belong somewhere. I mean, yes I belong in Asheville and I belong in college and I belong on the newspaper staff. And I love all those. But sometimes I wish there was something that brought me so much joy while also including all the people who I love. The closest thing I’ve found to this sense of belonging is Salem Academy. Though things were rough my junior year and the academics were hard, I’ve never felt like I’ve belonged somewhere as much as I did when I was at Salem (especially my senior year). There weren’t many (if any) people who stared or looked away (regarding my CP), I had amazing friends around me, I was on the newspaper staff and in Glee Club, and I never had to hide any part of myself. I was able to completely be myself. I know that a part of me will always belong to Salem. I made so many memories there, and I’ve been longing to go back there. To be enveloped by that feeling that you get when you return home and you realize how much you’ve missed it. That feeling that’s only present when you’re practically bursting with happiness and love. The sense of belonging.