My friend (instagram friend) shared a post. And. It’s brought up so much. I wouldn’t even know where to start.

Also reminding me of Lavenders comment on my last post.


I remember a ‘friend’ telling me that I was the considered to be on the lowest social ring of the class hierarchy ladder. The lowest with me was another ‘friend’.

In many ways I’m weird. I don’t mean weird as negative. Different. Just a statement. I’m extremely honest. I don’t do falseness or pretence or pretend societal norms. Yes I’ll reply to a message from someone just to be polite. But not to be polite. Rather because I’ve heard from others they were wondering if I didn’t like them. So I’m saying words in order not to hurt them. I see straight through people. I always have.

Reading her post. My school years weren’t like that. I was, am, too much of a character to have been invisible. Yet I was invisible.

Primary years I was bullied. Age 3 till 11. As I said, I’ve no clue if I really was. I had friends too. I had classmates around every single corner. High school all these friends were in the other half (we were split into 2 classes. All the girls I’d grown up with who were sorta friends were in the other class). The only person from my friends with me wasn’t a friend. Was RN. I’ve written a lot about RN. She’s someone on the spectrum who is learning disabled and whatever else. Basically I was responsible for her.

It’s funny. Not funny. I just. I don’t know why I’m writing this when there is zero connection. It’s just words that mean nothing. That I don’t connect to at all.

The first year of high school was good. I made friends who liked me because I was the only person who didn’t judge them. Come to think of that, that’s interesting to notice. I forgot about them. I was friends with them until mid year 8. Then something changed. I’ve no idea what happened. I know something did. Though nothing did. My life shifted. I wasn’t interested in school. Or anything. Until then I was shy, quiet, on the sidelines, ignored, RN monopolized by relationships, but I was a part of the class. That shifted when not sure what during year 8.

Come year 9 it changed back. It was a new start. I didn’t have friends. That group of friends weren’t my friends. I wouldn’t say I was ignored because I couldn’t sit still, was extremely inquisitive, would say what I thought when I thought it, would call out, drive the teachers crazy with my questions – the teachers who were well prepared and experienced enjoyed it, the young girls hated it.

My only ‘friend’ was RN. Who wasn’t a friend. I never took care of myself. Until I was 16 and went to the equivalent of girls college I never knew that a person was meant to shower often. I didn’t have social skills. Because I lived completely in my own world and had no friends to teach me what was ‘normal’. In year 11 we had the show. Year 11 in the school I went to direct and run the show and are in the play. I had a minor part in the show that I had 1 rehearsal for. For a month to 2 months my class were in school every day after school. I tried to watch or help but no one wanted me around. It was ironic. Because the purpose of the show was to build relationships. And I was artistic, could act, sing, and dance. Although I always believed I couldn’t sing. Because people always told me I couldn’t sing. I don’t know if I can or can’t sing. When I went to college people told me I could.

My first year away from home at 16 was really good. I was away from home. I made friends. Although I was scared to be with my friends for most were from the class or 2 classes older than me and would be leaving at the end of that year. I met some great people. And some not so great people. My first bedroom was quiet. My next bedroom I was with classmates who didn’t like me. Walking into my room where my classmates were friends without me. Walking past and knowing from the silence, or words I heard, that they were talking about me. It was a good year though.

The next year was again a room with some girls who liked me and some who looked down on me. The beginning of the year was hard but I quickly made a group of friends. I was okay. However many people didn’t want me around, as many people did. Come to think of it, most the friends I made, most the people I spent time with, were not my classmates. I never knew how to be a part of a social group. My friends in my class were actually not by choice. One was a friend I met with my friend 2 classes older. Another was a friends friend so we became a threesome. The end of that year the principal broke up our group of friends without telling me what or why.

The third year the only friend from my group wasn’t allowed to be friends with me. That year was hell. I was alone in my class of about 150 girls. Even the courses we did. Every single girl was given a course placement whilst I was given a half placement. I was supposedly part of a course but wasn’t assigned most of what I needed to be given to do the work. Which meant also that when most the girls were busy, I wasn’t. I had a friend who wanted to make new friends. I was just alone. Amongst 400 – 500 girls.

Up until then – during my first two years – I’d always helped around. The place was run by girls. Girls responsible for assigning duties like clearing up etc. I’d always helped. I was friendly or friends with the people responsible. This year it was my classmates responsible. They weren’t interested. The meals. When we had to be in the dining room. Running around and hiding in bathrooms whilst the girls responsible would walk around making sure everyone was downstairs. Having no one to sit with. I actually made a couple of friends in the new class. Girls who would turn to me. Who were real friends too. But they had to be a part of their class. I couldn’t be a part of their class.

I never knew how much I hated the place until I came to visit my sister there. It had been a time when I hadn’t self harmed in a few months. Then just after visiting her I found myself self harming. I say found myself because there was no forethought or choice. I was only aware of what I was doing when in the middle.

My school years in reality were okay. I wasn’t really invisible. Yet I was. I wasn’t alone. Yet I was. I have no idea if I was bullied or not. I changed my name when I was 9. From the nickname I’d been called to my legal first name. I love the fact that at 9 I had enough strength of character to ignore everyone who called me by my previous nickname. That name was persona non grata. I don’t really know why I hated it so much. I know it had something to do with my class and my sisters class.

And that’s enough writing about nothing.

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13 thoughts on “School.

    1. The name I was known by. Not legally. I was called for example Izzy – my name is not Eliza, but Izzy could be a nickname of it. And refused to answer to Izzy. Only to Eliza. For example.

      Liked by 4 people

  1. Oh E, you have said so much in this post. I recognise so much of what you say, and you WERE cruelly treated by your peers. Being ostracised is one of the most lonely places to exist.
    And as for saying you can’t sing? You have the most beautiful voice. It beggars belief. Surely it must have been a classic case of jealousy?
    E, for what you endured here ALONE is enough to take to therapy for a very long time, really, seriously. Bullying is literally a killer. But you, my friend, are a survivor. ❤️

    Like

  2. Bullying is horrible and it’s not just on social media as many young people today think. The physical, as well as the mental, bullying is bad. I was bullied for a few years after moving with my parents from Canada to the United States at age 10. People, including my teachers, bullied me – one making me stand up in front of the class “to talk like a Canadian” and the whole class laughed at my words. That was grade 6 and the following year, one woman teacher I had for 3 1/2 hours a day, paddled me because other kids said I chewed gum, passed notes and other stupid things when the teacher left the room to have a cigarette. I never told my parents and finally did after 8 or 9 months. My father had a bad temper and I knew that he would raise a stink, which he did. I hated both those teachers for what they did me, but the classmates were no better as they beat me up in the bathroom or on the way home. I hid it all from my parents.

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