Healing Relationships
I was bullied in elementary school.
It occurred mostly on the bus ride to school each day. The girl that I feared the most was “Tracey”. I was so afraid of Tracey and her friends that I used to steal money from my baby brother’s piggy bank to buy candy from the penny candy lady before the bus came each morning. I used the candy to bribe my way out of being picked on or worse. Sometimes the candy worked, sometimes it didn’t. I could never tell what would set Tracey against me; it seemed to be the mere fact that I was breathing and walking the earth. I can remember Tracey telling her friends on the bus one Monday morning (loud enough for me to hear of course) “Yes I’m still mad at her! I was mad at her Friday, I was mad at her Saturday and Sunday, and I’m still mad at her today!” (I still have no idea what I could have done, especially on the weekend when I didn’t even see her.)
I tried to remain frozen and invisible for days until she magically decided not to be mad at me anymore. Once, she said she was mad at me because I rolled my eyes at her, so from then on I literally tried not to blink in her presence.
Things went from bad to worse once she was chosen for bus patrol, which seemed to reinforce the idea that she was better and more powerful than me. Her position earned her an orange belt that draped over one shoulder, then circled and fastened around the waist as a visual reminder of her power and importance. She was allowed to walk down the aisles of the bus while it was in motion and talk with familiarity with the bus driver. In my young eyes, she was light-skinned, beautiful, confident and popular, and I was absolutely nothing.
Healing
I saw Tracey and one of the girls from her group again about 20 years after elementary school. I ran into Tracey’s friend in a gas station, and we started a conversation. I was no longer that timid girl from years ago, and I only harbored a few superficial feelings against them. I was living on my own, had a son and a successful career as a nurse. Tracey and her friend were still living in the same neighborhood as when we went to school together. Nothing much seemed to have changed for them. I was invited to Tracey’s house for a visit, and I obliged. I didn’t stay very long and it was uneventful, except it helped me to see the entire bullying situation in a new light.
Imagine starting every day of your life fighting for survival, fighting to fit in, fighting for love and acceptance, or even fighting to not have to fight. Something told me this might have been the common thread between Tracey and I back in Elementary school. Perhaps we were just two sides of the same coin rolling down the same side of the tracks.
Today, I could not pick Tracey out of a line-up. I can barely remember anything about her physical appearance. I don’t even know how light-skinned she really was. I do however remember the impressions that she left on my life.
I remember the orange bus patrol belt that validated her power over me. I remember the guilt I felt over all the money I stole from my baby brother’s football-shaped piggy bank. I remember the utter fear of laying eyes on her, never knowing if I were in her good graces that particular day or not.
So at some point, this real, tangible person faded from my reality and left her personal traumas behind on the coffee table of my psyche. Somehow, her traumas became daily reading in the background of my life. I did all sorts of crazy things in middle and high school just to get people to like me. Even in adulthood I tried to win people over with money or gifts or generalized over-the-top-ness. It did not occur to me that maybe people would just like me for who I was. For who I am.
Gratitude
I must commend the strength and courage of bullied me. I walked the streets of a notoriously sketchy neighborhood to make it to the bus stop every morning, only to get on a bus that was fully stocked with unprovoked enemies. I endured the mental torture. I carried the mental and emotional injuries with me for years. I did what I had to do to survive, even stealing. Even freezing. Even curling myself into a corner of who I really was.
Thank you bullied me for being strong enough to stand in the position. Fear faced you, and you were strong. Thank you for turning this trauma into something meaningful.
Love
Tracey, I hope that you have found the love that you deserved then and now. I hope you have found peace. Our neighborhood was not particularly kind to little girls like us. Drugs, random gunfire, food insecurity, single parenthood, it all ads up to a huge mountain to climb before even making it to school. So of course our dresses got a little dirty, and of course we had to be a little tougher. I am grateful for the lessons that we taught each other.
I embrace the traumas that fought so hard to keep me safe for so many years. Now that I have clarity and truth to escort me through the remainder of my life, I release those traumas as they no longer serve me. I pray the same for you, dear Tracey. And so it is.
Breathe.Gratitude.Love. 
Leave a comment