I was brought up in a very loving household. Yes, we had our ups and downs but my mum insured that we were given a balance of culture and creativity and expressed ourselves artistically and musically. She also made sure that we knew the difference between right and wrong and to accept people for who they were, whether they were rich, poor, of different race or disability. We never judged anyone.
I loved primary school. I loved everything about it. I had loads of friends, went to heaps of sleepovers and revelled in my childhood. I was nervous about starting Secondary School as I knew that kids were crueler there but it never bothered me overall. I was heading to Secondary school with all the kids I had grew up with, shared birthdays and stories with. I'll be safe and happy and I'll get on with my education. I couldn't have been more wrong.
My parents didn't have alot of money so for the majority of the time, we had to make do with second hand clothes or cheaper clothes and shoes from budget shops, which was fine in primary school but moving onto Secondary school where everyone wore Ben Sherman shirts and Adidas trainers, girls with their perfectly straightened hair and delicately applied make up, There was no way I was going to get away with my fashion faux pas unnoticed. Everything went well in my first two years. I made new friends and enjoyed my new classes. I occasionally got the odd disgusted look or sneer but I rose above it. I was unfortunate to have both frizzy hair and multicoloured glasses, making me look like a complete nutter but I was happy and I respected my parents for trying their best.
As I progressed into third year, things started to change. I began to notice my peers more. How they behaved, how they dressed and what cool accessories they adorned. The more I came to school in my noticeably cheap clothing, the more sneery remarks I got. The comments grew uglier and I began shying away even more. I would get called things like "specky", "Fatty" and constantly be told nobody would ever "ride" me or "get off" with me. I begged my mum to help me fit in more.
By the time I was fourteen, my mum had put herself through her highers as a mature student and gained herself an HNC in Social Sciences, of which, I was immensely proud of. My mum had suppressed her disability enough to add more substance to her life and do something just for her. Although she wasn't working and still in receipt of benefits, my dad was working and things were a lot brighter. The very first thing I asked my mum to get me was a Ben Sherman school shirt. All the popular girls in school where wearing them. Perfectly fitting, perfectly ironed, crisp white shirts. Compared to my "budget" shirts at £3.99 for two, A Ben Sherman shirt was the height of luxury with a price tag to go with it. Mums face looked ashen when I told her. She knew money was still tight but she weighed up the options and would rather her child escaped the dispair of bullying than worry about money. She ordered me two shirts. At twenty pounds each.
Soon I was slapping mum with a whole list of things I desperately needed. Hair straighteners being a must to tame my frizzy mop and designer trainers as that was what most people kicked about in.
Although I was trying to alter my appearance to fit in with my peers, I was still the victim of bullying. One year in science class, a boy I had went to school with tried to set fire to my hair. He pulled out a lighter and put the flame to the end of ponytail. Luckly one of the girls in my class has extinguished it and all I was left with was singed ends. My head of year had taken me aside and basically gave me the option of expelling him permenently or suspending him for two weeks. I though extremely hard about the decision. I had the power to get rid of a bully, who gets off on causing misery to others. I felt something of importance for a split second. I had the power and I felt like a King.
I asked for him to be suspended. I'd get bullied even more if I got one of "their" friends expelled and I couldn't risk that.
The moment I felt completely at my worst was when I got picked on by some girls I went to primary school with. I'd grown up with these girls. Shared parties with them, days out, sleepovers. I was being betrayed all because they thought it was cool to be a bully. It started out as the odd name calling and threatening behaviour but soon escalated into following me home from school, pinning me up against walls and waiting for me after classes. I was teased in class, spat on and even had someone spit in my cola can. My depression spiralled out of control to the point that I was begging my mum to keep me off school and she had no option but to let me stay at home. She didn't want some thugs hurting her baby. I never left the house when I wasn't at school. I was petrified of bumping into one of them. On the rare occasion when I went to the shopping centre, I would constantly be looking over my shoulder and would do whatever it was I was doing as quickly as possible so I could get back to the safe and secure place I called my bedroom. On one occasion I was beaten up outside the shopping centre. A girl I barely knew came up behind me and announced that I had been saying things behind her back and spreading rumours about her. I, of course, denied all knowledge of these rediculous claims. She smacked me across the face, pulling my hair so hard I was left with a small patch of hairless scalp, but the thing that hurt me more than the punches and slaps was my new top that she ripped. My mum had bought it for me the day before.
Soom my self harming had reared its ugly head again and I began drinking in the streets and messing about with drugs to deal with the pain.
My best friend has just left school, having turned sixteen, and I was still stuck in the obscure, Intimidating confinement which made the whole situation ten times worse. The only thing the School could do for me was let me leave my classes ten minutes earlier in order to get to my next class without any confrontation. I was constantly on an attendance card, was always bumping off school and social workers were called in. By the time I was fifteen I was missing school for weeks at a time until the School came up with a solution. Having attended a local nursery for my work experience placement, they had arrange with the nursery to turn my work experience into a type of placement, two days a week and three days in school. To begin with, I was delighted. The school had came to a compromise with me and I could enjoy the experiences of working with children, something I'd always wanted to do.
Unfortunetly it didn't solve the problem of me being victimised. The bullies were still there on those three days and I was still being emotionally distroyed. After two months I'd had enough and I left school and my placement for good, two months before I turned sixteen.
I never wanted to be leave education but I was physically forced out of it. Nobody could help me and I resorted to the only option I had left before it permenently damaged me. I planned on staying on for the rest of my fifth year and sit my highers and advanced highers and I still to this day suffer with what happened all those years ago. I'm having to go back into education as an adult.
These people destroyed my life. They stole my education away from me. They took every ounce of self worth and confidence I had and robbed me of it. I didn't believe in myself anymore. I barely wanted to be me anymore. It's taken alot of courage and determination to overcome what happened to me. I am so luckly to be surrounded by good, honest people who have helped me on my road to recovery. Without all that, I could have easily taken my own life.
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