"Stubby, what are you doing? Stand up like a normal person."

"Why are you so short? Is there something wrong with you?"

"I'm going to call you 'Twelvy'...get it? Because you're short and look like a twelve-year-old!"

Yes, these are real comments from real people that I've gotten over the past eight years of my life about my height. I stand at a towering five feet tall and for some reason, this is a great anomaly for most people. But this article isn't to complain. I want to share my story in the hopes that anyone going through something similar will understand that it will pass; there is always a light at the end of the tunnel.

I was never bullied until middle school. The dreaded days of when I had a full mouth of braces and bangs that were too thick for my round face was when this nightmare began. My fellow classmates noticed (what seemed to be the most important observation in the history of time) that I had become the shortest person in our entire grade. One of my best friends once held this label, and was clearly relieved to pass it on. I on the other hand was not so happy with this discovery. But I never thought it would change how I view myself, other people, and life as a whole.

There was an immediate change in how people treated me. I got the annoyingly not-so-creative nickname of "Stubby," or "Stubs" for short. Everyone called me this. Literally everyone. The few close friends that I had soon adopted this as my new name, too. It got to the point where people would use any lame excuse to use it.

For example, attending a catholic school, we always said morning prayer and the Pledge of Allegiance. When it came time to stand for those, someone would comment "Stubby, you're supposed to be standing right now." My weak pleads for them to stop being so rude did nothing. Looking back, it may have even fueled the fire even more.

Once I realized no one would be letting up any time soon, I felt it was time for my principal to hear my story. I was nervous because I didn't really want anyone to get in trouble, but I knew it would never stop if I didn't speak up.

I met with her after school and explained what was going on. I told her it was mostly male classmates doing the primary teasing and everyone else just seemed to follow along. Her response sent shivers down my spine, as it was not even close to a real solution to my problem.

She stated with confidence, "Honey, those boys are just teasing you because they like you. Just ignore them and they'll eventually leave you alone." At the time, I couldn't gather the courage to tell her this was a method I had already tried multiple times. Instead, I left her office feeling unsatisfied and already worrying about the comments I would get at school the next day.

As I moved through middle school, the bullying became more intense once people saw I wasn't planning on throwing any punches to silence the hateful words. My personal belongings were put in hard to reach places just so my classmates could watch me struggle. I was constantly tormented by giggles and stares in every class. My so-called friends would also make degrading comments, and barely even hung out with me outside of school. Looking back, I wish I would have just screamed right in their faces. How could they not realize that this was causing me pain? Or did they not even care? I began to hate everyone in my grade. Worst of all, I started hating myself even more.

There really isn't a defining happy end to this story. I left middle school with few of those same kids, but my high school was so big we barely even saw each other. I still got picked on in high school, which lead to multiple complications in my personal life.

But I didn't tell this story so people would feel sorry for me. I didn't even tell it hoping that I will get apologies from the people that did this to me. I share this story because I hope someone reading this will know that they aren't alone if they are going through something similar.

The days of me being made fun of are over. In fact, I joke about my height to others because I love who I am. I don't care that my body is different from everyone else. I've accepted that I won't be a raging 5 foot 10 basketball star, and I'm ok with that. Had this experience never happened to me, I may have never learned how to truly be myself.

I've also told this story for another reason as well. If you've read up to this point, thanks, because that means in some shape or form, you care about what I have to say. Not many people know this about me, but this story marks the beginning of my experience with depression and anxiety/panic disorder.

I am proud to say that I've gotten help for both of these illnesses, and have never felt better. I hate to leave you on a cliffhanger, but that is another story waiting to be told.