It’s a question I’m often asked… while looking at me like I have 3 heads and giving me the haven’t you got better things to do at YOUR AGE look.
Basically I adore writing.
I always have.
It’s my creative outlet.
There’s no age limit to writing. My grandma wrote well into her 80’s.
I kept diaries from about 8 years old until the age of around 17. Not one liner per day diaries … we are talking of epic proportions.
In-depth A5 pages full of my tiny teenage mixed-up scribbles.
I recently stumbled across a pile of them while clearing the loft. I started to read one of the said diaries but due to the amount of cringing I was doing I had to stop… One day when I’m old and grey maybe I’ll try again..
I’ve always been a story-teller and I do believe that everybody has a story to tell.
Something that contributes BUT that I rarely talk about … in fact very few people know…I was bullied at school.
As a way to escape I’d write it all down.
How I was feeling. How they made me feel? How shit I must be as a person to let them make me feel that way ?
I wasn’t popular.
I was geeky.
I was also very shy.
The lanky one with the big bulgey lizard eyes and the teeth that looked far too big for her mouth. ( I still hate my teeth to this day but they now fit my mouth a lot better!)
I went to Girl Guides and church.
Not cool …(when you’re a 13-year-old trying desperately to fit in and be cool)
I’m sure if I read the diaries from that period,were I was full of teenage angst and self hate I might sob.
The bullies in question were the popular girls who hung out and ‘got off’ with the cool guys, got invited to the best parties, smoked , drank, were overly confident etc, etc…
I’m sure you get my drift and you have encountered similar people at some point in your life.
Looking back though they weren’t that cool , they weren’t even that special. They were just loud, ‘gob-shites’ that put out to the popular guys.
Sheep following sheep.
My friend copped it the worse. She ended up in hospital after a pretty bad fight. One of the girls attacked her in the street. She was left with terrible head injuries. I wasn’t there but the details were horrific.
This resulted in her mum and dad taking her out of school (un-surprisingly) for home tutoring. Leaving me to face it (school) alone.
I got the tail end of things for being her close friend. The dirty looks and the whispers, followed by the giggles. All at my expense of course.
Quite blatantly laughing at me in class. I can still feel their eyes boring into me and the isolation I felt.
They never physically touched me but they intimidated me and they knew it. They probably even enjoyed seeing me squirm.
Bullying is bullying in whatever form it takes – mental or physical.
I’d leave for school everyday with that awful dreaded feeling in the pit of my stomach. The same one I got the morning of my driving test.
I’d walk too and from school rather than catch the school bus. I didn’t want to encounter them alone. I didn’t want the awkwardness of avoiding eye contact. If you made eye contact you were ‘asking for it.’
I’d go out of my way to avoid certain situations.
People can be so cruel, a lesson I learned at an early age.
Yes it knocked the little confidence I had. I don’t think I ever fully regained it.
I sometimes find it hard to communicate verbally; I ramble at hundred miles an hour and get flustered.
Give me a pen and a piece of paper and I’ll write to your heart’s content.
Writing is my voice if you like. It says things in a way I could never verbally say them.
Right before we go on… I don’t want anybody to feel sorry for me , that’s not what this post set out to do.
I got knocked, but I got up again and maybe , just maybe I’m a stronger and better person because of it?
Always taking a positive from a negative I am.
I’ve seen a few of the girls over the years.
They don’t intimidate me anymore.
I often wonder if they realise the extent of the stress they caused me?
I doubt it to be honest. They probably didn’t even see themselves as bullies? Just girls doing what girls do… one ring leader and the rest followers.
Like I said earlier sheep following sheep.
They probably have a totally different recollection of events back then … and come on would you ever admit you were a bully? That’s surely harder than admitting you were bullied?
Part of me wants to tell them, to lash out and vent all my pent-up anger. (Because yes there is still some , even after all these years.) Things get easier over the years but the way they made you feel … well that sticks.
My rational side however thinks it was a long, long time ago and to let sleeping dogs lie.
We were children, now we are adults.
So I write and let those sleeping dogs lie.
I suppose not that much has changed since my teenage diary days . I’m still writing down and recording my ramblings.
Well … ok so now I have ( a few) followers who read my musings.
I don’t cry about boys ( well not so much) I have had sex ( that was such a big scary thing back then) and I did eventually get to snog the nice boys…
One day I hope to write a kids book.
Make that one day I will write a kids book.
My late grandma and I used to sit and write together and it’s something I’ve always wanted to do in her memory.
She was a hard disciplinary woman but her softness came out in her writing.
People tell me that I have the mind and imagination of a child so why not put it to good use?
Today the blog… tomorrow that book. The sky really is the limit.
So in answer to your question … Why do I blog?
Quite simply because I love it and the freedom it gives me…
‘When people hurt you over and over again , think of them like sandpaper . They may scratch and hurt you a bit but in the end you end up polished and they end up useless’ – Chris Colfer
and yes I did shed a little writing this – thank-you for listening.