Last week, my dear friend posted an article written to anybody that was/is bullied. The article hit at home for me, as my older sister and I were both bullied in elementary and middle school. In recent years, some of these individuals have gotten in contact with me and we have reconciled. Some have apologized for their cruel treatment and asked for forgiveness. Others, however, still have no idea how they impacted me then or how they still impact me even now. Being in college now, however, has made me realize a few things about the past and I have a few things that I need to say.

*deep breath*

So here goes nothing...

To My Childhood bullies,

I wish I understood what it was that made you act the way you did. I wish I knew just what it was that caused you to verbally and physically lash out at me for no reason at all. I want to understand why you despised me so much or why you felt like you needed to rip me apart. I want you to look me in the eye and tell me why you thought that I was not as valuable as you were.

For the longest time, I tried not to let your words hurt me. (I at least didn't want you to see how it hurt me.) I tried to be tough and act like I didn't realize what you were doing. It has been nearly seven years since I have seen some of you but yet, your words still leave scars on my heart.

Seven years have passed and I still hear the taunts and jabs and mockery and insults. I still cannot accept a compliment because I'm waiting for the insult that generally followed them. Nearly a decade later, I cannot look at myself in a mirror without hating what I see because of how you described me every day for seven years.

Ugly. Fat ass. Trashy. Like a troll that crawled under a bridge. A loser. Worthless. Stupid. Weak. Unloveable. I can't even believe my boyfriend when he calls me beautiful or tells me how much he loves me. Part of me believes that he is lying to me. Why? Because the memory of your words overpower what he is saying right in front of me.

Because of you, I was afraid to put myself out there. You made fun of my passion for theater, so I became a spectator. You taunted me for my musical abilities, so I remained silent. You mocked me for my writing, so I created a pen-name. You ridiculed my art, so I hid my sketch pads or would hide in the bathroom during art class. You hated me when I got good grades, calling me a teacher's pet or a goody-goody, but you had no problem making me feel small when I slipped up. You never saw the tears I shed as I curled up in my room at the end of the day, your words echoing in my ears.

I was the kid you targeted in gym class when we played dodgeball. You would corner me and throw balls at my face at close range when the teacher's back was turned, leaving bruises all over my body. You used to shove me into the rough, carpeted walls of the YMCA, leaving hard-to-explain brush burns on my back and shoulders. Gym class was a nightmare already to the non-athletic folks like me, but you made it a living hell. You would rip the contents of my desk apart and throw them everywhere or knock books out of my hands as we walked to class, causing me to fall behind and be berated by the teacher for my tardiness, giving you yet another reason to taunt me.

You would write me threats and tell me to kill myself, restating how worthless you believed that I was. But you will never know that I was the one who got in trouble for them when I finally spoke up. You will never know the heartache of being told that I was faking these letters and threats. "Nobody is that mean," I was told. You will never ever know what it is like to be forced into silence because you're seen as nothing more than a snitch, when all you did was speak up to protect yourself. You will never know how alone I felt. You will never know how numb I was as I watched while you turned the only friend I had against me. You will never be able to comprehend how much I wish I had it in me to get even with you. To lash out against you the way you did me.

You will never understand how hard it was for me to swallow when I wanted to spit in your face when I saw you again for the first time in years or when your name popped up on social media.

You will never understand how hard it is for me to even move on because I see pictures of you in yearbooks and I taste bile.

You will not be able to understand how much it kills me to smile when I see you on the street.

I cannot begin to even describe how difficult it is to type this next sentence. But as stated before, here goes nothing:

Thank you.

That's right. Despite the living hell of my early academic years you've put me through, I have to thank you. Because without you I would not be where I am today.

Because of you, I do not tolerate anybody making fun of someone who is different than them. Whether it's physical differences, intellectual, religious, etc., I don't put up with it. I have silenced guests at my workplace for taunting kids too afraid to ride something for the first time. I have removed guests from a ride for mocking a little girl with down syndrome to the point of tears. I challenged a guest to strike me the way they did a younger friend because "they're a wimp and couldn't handle it." (The guest didn't even hesitate to say they wouldn't dare hit me as I was a girl and bigger than them. It got my point across to him.) I have offered an encouraging word to kids who were teased for being too scared to finish climbing the giant rope net, finishing the climb alongside of them, despite my own fear of heights.

Because of you, I have found a career option where I am fighting for people who can't speak up for themselves. I had originally planned on being a teacher, to make sure that no student faces the same thing I did. After a lot of prayer, I chose a different field of study, that of human services, where I can act as an advocate for people groups that may have a disadvantage (homeless, mentally or physically disabled, women, children, elderly, etc.) I have chosen to pursue a career that will give them a voice.

Because of you, I am stronger than I ever thought I could be. I faced you every day for seven years and attempted to show you nothing but kindness when I wished I could strike back. I prayed that God would change your attitude towards me, not that you would be my best friend, but that you would at least treat me like a human. And I prayed that I would have the strength to forgive you.

It's been hard, but time can make a difference. Honestly, I'd rather be saying these things face to face. This will have to do for now. I'm older, wiser and have learned from the past. I've noticed that you've brought out some of the best qualities in me. You helped to create a strong conviction in how people should be treated. You helped me to see that being kind, gentle, encouraging and understanding is going to get me farther in life than tearing people down because they are different.

I can't change the past. I can't change how you treated me. But I can step in to help others. I can use what I've learned from your abuse to make sure others are not treated the same way.

So again, thank you for helping me become the person I am today.

Sincerely,

An Advocate