A Message to my Middle School Bullies
Life Lessons and Growing Up
The way people speak to you matters. But the level of respect and decency you choose to tolerate matters even more.
I was brutally bullied in middle school. Emotional terrorism—truly. It turned an already insecure, depressed young girl into one who was severely self-loathing.
It got to a point where I would eat lunch alone in the bathroom of what we called the tea house because I couldn’t stand it. Every day, I walked into that big building on Fifth Avenue and braced myself for psychological warfare. I had to be constantly aware, on guard, and ready for the next attack. I had to muster the courage to defend myself or laugh it off like it didn’t hurt me to my core—most of the time, I chose the latter. I was walking through a minefield, waiting for the next mean girl to set off the trigger.
I was desperate for an escape, so I left. I ran far away from my bullies. And in running, I vowed never to let myself endure torment like that again.
But the shell shock doesn’t just go away. You leave an environment like that, and even if you’re off the playing field, you carry PTSD. Constantly on guard, clenching my jaw at all times, waiting for the next shoe to drop.
Fast forward 13 years, and that intense vigilance for harm has mostly worn off. But I’m still aware. I can smell a mean girl a mile away, and luckily, I know how to handle it.
Identifying a mean girl and turning your shoulder is the easy part. But recognizing when people you love and hold dear cross the line of respect and kindness is a more challenging battle.
Our friends are supposed to love us—always have our best interests at heart, right? So, what do you do when one of those dear ones gives you the same feeling your middle school bullies did?
It’s called boundaries. I’m new to them but getting to know them. We’re still courting each other.
Someone recently told me that the best response is no response, and to let people sit with their own actions.
She was so right.
As much as I like to use words as my defense, silence is often the stronger weapon.
Silence is meaningful and direct.
In conclusion—I will use silence as my boundary setter, I’ll turn my shoulder to disrespect and happily eat lunch alone.