I don't understand the need to be mean to other people for the sake of being mean. It is a cold day out. It snowed last night the weather gods decided to top that with a layer of ice. It is cold. I'm wearing jeggings under my jeans, (Jean-ception!) a sweater under my Batman jacket, a bright pink scarf that I bought today because I fell in love with it, a pair of pink variegated finger-less gloves, and a fuzzy soft, grey hat with a really big blue fuzzy ball on top, that I fell in love with today. So, yeah, I don't match, but at least I am warm. That is the important thing, right? I meet with my NaNo group on Monday nights and I'm usually the first on here because I live the closest and can nab us a table with a plug.
I came in grabbed the table with the plug in the floor and go to order a drink and food. Peppermint Hot Chocolate and a lemon bar. Yum! There were two guys sitting at the table next to me, around late high school to early college age, but leaning more towards the late high school. They were sitting there with notebooks, writing. I didn't pay much attention to them, until I hear them mention my scarf and how stupid it is. I get my food and sit down. They think they are clever by whispering, but I can hear everything they are saying. They are not making any effort to conceal the fact they are making fun of everything about me, from my hat, to my weight, to my older computer, to my bag, to my "ugly face". At one point they were debating if I were with anyone. I still have my gloves on so my wedding band is hidden. They said that they should come over and cum on my lemon bar because that is probably the only sperm my body will ever get. Seriously? Seriously? I pretty much ignore them, or at least try to, but still, it is hurtful. There is not point! I do not know these boys and they do not know me, so why did they decide, out of all the people in the Starbucks Cafe to pick on me? What makes me such an easy target?
I know many of you would say, "They are just being stupid, they are just words, don't let it get to you." That is easy to say but it is not easy to do. I've spent years, YEARS of my life being tormented by bullies to the point that I have extreme social anxiety. It took me a year to actually get up the courage to join the NaNo group on Monday nights. My first try did not go so well. I was so anxious that I left at the beginning.
My childhood was hell in itself. I lived with my grandparents who chain smoked and I always smelled. I had a chipped tooth from the time I was seven to when my mom took me to get it fixed at thirteen. I was overweight because I emotionally ate. I had no friends. We lived in a very small town in Texas. That was about the time "Clueless" came out and since we were too poor to afford designer clothing, I was teased. I was a geek. I loved Star Trek and books. I was in the higher classes and I was talented at playing the saxophone. Naturally, I became the butt of all the jokes.
There was a time where a girl's mom invited me to a birthday party. The girl did not want me there, so she changed the time on the invitation. So, I showed up at the party and no one was there. I thought there had been a mistake. I asked her about it the next day as I gave her the gift and she told me what she did, loudly, in front of all her friends. They thought it was funny that I was crying. She threw the gift, a talking Barbie, back at me telling me that she didn't want such a cheap, trashy gift.
When I was in sixth grade, I was so good at playing the sax that I was the only one, in the entire band, that was chosen for all county band. The only place I had to practice was in a small room. I can't tell you how many times they locked me in there. They thought it was funny I guess. The light switch was on the outside. There was one day I was trapped in the room for the entire day. The school did nothing. It was a "kids are kids" policy. Had it been today, they all would have been suspended and I would have been able to press charges on them. That is, partly, where my claustrophobia comes from.
The torment was so bad that, at twelve, I decided to move in with my mother. I couldn't take it any longer. I was pulled out of class during band. They had to nerve to try to be nice to me about leaving. I call them all stupid nasty bitches and told them I hated them. They teacher tried to reprimand me, but there was nothing they could do because I was already pulled out of school.
Things were better for a little bit. We moved from Texas to Ft. Meade, Maryland. I actually had friends for two years before we moved again to the school where I graduated.
Again, I was teased because I was not as rich at the other students, but at least they did not torment me. They teased me for not having a BMW or and Audi, but they weren't mean. I just didn't fit in the cliques. Most of my problems stemmed from issues at home thanks to my mom's ex-douche bag.
But still, I look at the news today at the children who were driven to suicide because they were bullied to the point where they don't see a way out. I will admit, I have been there on several occasions, but something told me to keep going that it will get better. It has for the most part. Thankfully, society is starting to take a stance on it and stop enabling the bullies and standing up the the victims. The "sticks and stones" mantra doesn't work. Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words have the power to shatter a soul. They stick with you, forever, and do far more damage than sticks and stones ever could.