When I was being bullied in high school, I was not really conscious of the situation I was going through, meaning that bullying was not even considered a problem to take into account. The concept in itself did not exist and, if it did, it was not as well known as nowadays. Teachers and students all seemed to assume that it was a normal thing to mistreat some people for being different and not to raise their voices against it. The only thing I was conscious of was the pain. That was the only thing that felt real to me.
No one prepares you for that. No one prepares for how your life is going to change overnight. You go from having expectations and hopes in life to being afraid of waking up every morning and fearing where the danger could come from that day in high school. Who is it gonna be today? What situations should I avoid in order not to get hurt? What am I doing wrong? Am I wrong? No matter what the question was, I just could not conceive anybody else was wrong but me. I tried to keep myself from facing the truth, living in self-denial, trying not to lose control of my life, trying to cling to that happy ever after idealization I had before the bullying started, until one day, I wondered WHY.
But that "why" never got an answer so after years tired of fighting for staying faithful to myself without being taken as a joke, I became addicted to pot and got very isolated, until the point that I was always sitting alone in class while all the other students were sitting in pairs. I didn’t want to be part of that and I guess I wanted them to know somehow. I wanted to show them that I would rather hurt myself before than hurt anybody else, I wanted to be a visual and constant proof that something was going wrong in that place if things were supposed to work like that. I wanted to give them away for seeing and letting me slowly die alone in front of their eyes.
Fortunately, I didn’t die. I survived… but the consequences of the damages were too profound: one year after having escaped from that hell and just when I thought that things were starting to finally get better, I had a psychotic break, due to this pot addiction and bullying mix combination. It’s been almost 9 years since that episode and I’m still taking meds. I have no friends, I barely have a social life, I have no boyfriend, obviously, and I don’t even have a family anymore, except for my parents, since all my other relatives have acted as if everything was perfect when it wasn’t. Even the closest ones, who could have suspected that the situation wasn’t optimum, haven’t supported me with the things that are important to me.
So now, with such an optimistic situation, what could be expected? What advice could be expected from someone who’s so… fucked up? Well, I have told you about everything I don’t have anymore, but I haven’t mentioned the most important thing I do have now: I HAVE ME. Maybe I don’t want friends who will go away when it’s not about superficial things, maybe I don’t want a social life only to have one and boast about it, maybe I don’t want a lover who’s a coward and maybe I don’t want a family who won’t make sacrifices just like I had to.
It is as important to know what you want as what you don’t want if it’s not even more important knowing what you don’t, and this new me has learned to say no. I’ve made mistakes, of course, and I’m starting to take responsibility for them. I guess it was my choice to start smoking pot and it was one of my biggest mistakes, but I’m not going to blame myself for having had a psychotic break, ‘cause it’s fact that without all the bullying situation, none of that would have happened.
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