Where to begin. Bullying for me goes way back. In preschool, unfortunately, I guess I was a bit of a bully because I remember that I got in trouble a lot. In daycare, I was bullied by twins who lived around the block from me; a few other people; and, at one point, even a spoiled girl who was the daughter of one of the owners. That girl exploited the loophole that prevented boys from retaliating against girls as they would against other boys.
In kindergarten, I began attending a Catholic elementary school that no one in my neighborhood attended. I wasn't bullied in kindergarten and actually had a few friends. Starting in first grade, we had to wear uniforms: For boys, it was a white collared shirt and gray pants. My parents bought a uniform shirt made out of rougher fabric than most other boys wore because it was less expensive; however, the fabric was hot and itchy; and so I tended to have my shirt untucked and look like a slob, especially since I had (and still have) cowlicks. I started to become shyer around this time.
In fourth grade, bullying became its most intense. I had been playing on a soccer team with people from school (my father's idea); and, at one practice, I missed kicking the ball away from someone and hit his shin instead. He and his friends ostracized me from the soccer team and then bullied me in school, too, especially during recess. I became very shy and withdrawn after that and have had very low self-esteem ever since.
My parents got divorced a couple of years later; and, in the Catholic Church, divorce is a big deal. I felt too embarrassed to even mention my parents' divorce in school. Because of money problems from this divorce, I had to switch to a public school for eighth grade.
In eighth grade, I was wrapped in a long-lasting depression with mild paranoia to accompany it. I thought of myself as an observer sent to observe the strange social customs of the kids in public school. I was suspicious of everyone who tried to be nice to me; I thought I could just tell by the look on their face they had an ulterior motive.
I was also very angry at my parents at this point because I wanted friends. I was withdrawn at school and in public but very hard to get along with at home. I blamed them for my not having friends.
In ninth grade, I was put on medication for suspected childhood-onset bipolar disorder. The medication made me very fat very quickly, and it also made me very tired. I eventually stopped taking the medication and started exercising--obsessively. I exercised to look like a less easy target for bullying, for health, and for physical attractiveness to women. I also became an atheist around this time.
I eventually started hanging out with some of my brother's friends at lunch. When a new kid from New Hampshire showed up, I invited him to join us at lunch. For this favor, he quickly started mocking me, ostracizing me from the people I ate lunch with. In my French class, he even pulled the chair out from under me as I sat down once. He eventually moved back to New Hampshire, and I was able to start associating with my brother's friends, who apologized somewhat and called this rude person kind of annoying, again.
Before going to college, I was diagnosed with Asperger's syndrome.
In college, I met a girl who seemed very nice, polite, thoughtful, smart, and attractive but a little passive. We started hanging out together almost every day, and I think we were both starting to fall in love. I guess I was unable to make the moves she wanted through self-doubt or whatever, and this must have turned her off to me. She later became sarcastic, rudely curious, deceptive, and stubborn. She had turned into another bully. We got into a few arguments online and eventually agreed not to talk to each other anymore. Not long after, I saw her; and she had a huge grin on her face; and I know she knew I saw her.
It sometimes seems like we're maladaptive mutants, doesn't it? In earlier times, we wouldn't have made it through childhood to continue eeking out our barely what can be called lives.
10 Dec 2004, 3:13 am
