Invisible to classmates

My first encounter with bullying came as sudden as lightning, without any warning. Unfortunately, it didn't go away as quickly as it came. I was in Primary 5 when it started. I was talking with my friends in class one day, and the next day everyone stopped talking to me. I remember trying to talk to my friends but they would ignore me and they would not allow me to join or take part in any of their activities.

It was as if I was invisible to them. They would talk about me as if I was not there and they would not even look in my direction. The girls started it, and the boys just followed the “trend” in class. But till now, I still don't know what I did or what I said that was wrong to make them hate me and start this whole thing.

I remember back then I would spend every day trying to figure out what I did that was wrong to upset them and in the end, I thought that it was because I was not pretty enough to be friends with them. I really truly believed so, and it was very damaging to my self-esteem. And for a long time, I thought I was ugly.

Having no one to talk to, I would always spend recess time on my own and I spent most of my time reading and studying. Two good things came out of this bullying experience: I discovered the wonderful world of books and the wonders of art.

Books were my solace and they kept me safe. I felt like I belonged somewhere when I read. But there were also times in class when I held a book to pretend to be busy reading. The book was my shield and I could pretend that I never heard the boys calling me names or the girls saying bad things about me.

I never cried in front of them and I think that is one thing that I am proud. Even when I returned home, I still had to pretend that everything was fine in school. I felt like I couldn't tell anyone what happened in school. I didn't want my family to think I was weak, that I was still a baby to cry over trivial things like this.

It was only at night when I was alone that I would cry myself to sleep and repeat everything all over again the next day. I would tell myself that it was okay to be alone. I would tell myself that I was fine being alone.

The whole bullying lasted for two years, till the end of Primary 6, and I was never happier to finally leave primary school. It was only two years, but it seemed to last an eternity. After leaving primary school I did my best to forget everything and anything about primary school altogether. I willed myself to forget and I did.

I think subconsciously I do remember what happened, but I am never brave enough to really try and remember all the details. However, there is still one incident that remains clear in my mind. It was in moral class, and the teacher asked us to form groups to work on a project. Everyone had a group except me and when the teacher asked which group wanted me to join them, nobody responded.

Nobody said anything for a long time, and the girls and boys just laughed. The humiliation and loneliness I felt at that moment is something I still remember today.

Even with my bad experiences with girls during primary school, I never had problems with the girls in my secondary school. I was sent to an all-girls school and the girls there were wonderful. Secondary school was my healing period and it was during this time that I slowly regained my confidence. But the bullying in primary school also made me bitter. Reading the story Young adults revisit bullying experience made me cry because I always thought I was the only one who built those defensive walls. It was comforting to know that someone else felt the way I did. I don't feel so alone anymore.

It took me a while to make new friends in secondary school because of those walls. I was always scared to talk to the girls and every time I did, I was always afraid of saying something wrong and most of the time I just kept quiet.

The bullying has also made me into a very ugly person. I can only admit this freely now because I've recently accepted the fact that I had been bullied. All this while I had been trying to forget it and pretend that it did not happen. I always felt that if I acknowledged the fact that I had been bullied, it would mean that I was weak and that I had finally lost to the bullies. I only told my mum about what happened to me in primary school last year but I still couldn't tell her everything. I couldn't really tell her my selfish and ugly motive of excelling in my studies and scoring good grades.

I studied really hard from Primary 5 firstly because I had nothing to do since I had no one to talk to. But then it gradually grew into a selfish desire to be needed. Everyone needs and likes someone who is smart, so that was what I tried hard to accomplish and I did. I excelled in all my subjects and that made me a lot of friends. Everyone needed my help in some way or other and the feeling of being needed made me feel superior, and I relished it.

Even the girl who bullied me in primary school started being nice to me and that fuelled my selfish goal. It was my form of revenge, as if to say because you are stupid, you now have to beg me to help you and be nice to me. Looking back now, I have never been more ashamed of myself. I realise that I let the bullying twist me and make me so bitter that I became just as ugly as the girls who bullied me.

Even though I've never bullied or treated anyone the way that I had been treated, I have in some ways become just the same as the girls who bullied me.

Bullying damages you in so many ways, and sometimes you don't even realise it. It took me many years to really understand what I let myself become. I am still very much introverted and I always wait for people to speak to me first and I still prefer being quiet. Even though I am much more confident than before, I still have this fear of being alone again. I think subconsciously I am still afraid of saying the wrong things and offending people. I still don't trust people easily and I feel like I always need to be guarded.

To Juliana (the girl in the article), your story let me feel that I am not alone, because I also build the very same walls that you did. I cannot put in words how your story made me feel but I am very thankful that you shared your story. Finally, I know that I am not alone.

Anonymous