In honor of National Anti-Bullying month, I’ve decided to tell my story.

From age five to age fifteen, I endured bullying.

The bullies have no idea how this impacted my life. Well, now they will.

I have no confidence and very little self-esteem. I sometimes wander through life paranoid that someone is talking about me or looking to harm me verbally or physically. I have a hard time taking criticism and am often harder on myself than most.

I jump whenever someone touches my shoulder from behind. I look down when people are addressing me. I don’t speak a lot unless I feel I have been given a “signal” to do so. I reject compliments and avoid talking about myself. All of this because of the classmates who bullied me all those years ago.

The years I suffered the most harmful bullying was during middle school. I was made fun of for being pubescent. I liked books and often spent time alone because no one wanted to be around me. I was often asked, “why are you so weird?” and often told, “no one likes you!” I was harassed during P.E every day by the older upperclassmen. I was hardly ever picked to be on teams because of my small stature.

I remember being in the locker room changing out of my school clothes when upper-classmen would touch my stomach to show how out of shape I was. I remember being laughed at walking into class to sit at my desk. I remember having my personal belongings taken from me and thrown around the classroom. I remember being pantsed almost every other day and being laughed at.

I cried almost every day. I hardly ever told anyone what I endured. I never told because I was too ashamed. How could I sit there and be picked on? How could I explain this to anyone? I couldn’t stand up for myself so I developed both fear and anger for my bullies.

I was so afraid they would physically harm me I internalized how I felt. Before I knew it, I began harming myself. I would tell myself how they were right. How I was small and worthless. How I wasn’t a real man or real guy. I would call myself a faggot and queer. I would walk home crying and the minute I’d walk through the door and see my mom, I’d dry my face and act as if everything was fine.

I never could, and still can’t, understand why and how my own classmates would bully me. I never could understand how the same people I met in kindergarten became monsters in 6^th grade. How someone could verbally and physically harm another person and be supported by their peers.

For many years, I was angry at those who bullied me. I had many bouts with depression that have had devastating effects on me. It amazes me how the words and bruises can fade but the pain can remain the same. I still remember how I felt and how I wanted to disappear forever. I hated them for making me hate myself.

I want them to know one thing. I want them to know how much they hurt me and how it affected me. But I also want them to know I forgive them. I wish no ill will on them. In fact, I thank them. Though I struggle from time to time with my self-esteem, the pain I endured only made me stronger. I work harder and harder every day on myself. I affirm myself every chance I get. I was able to heal through the things I love the most such as writing and reading.

I was able to move on and live a fulfilled life.