My story is that people will call me fat and make fun of me. I do not enjoy it but it seems really hard to stand up for myself.

My story is that people will call me fat and make fun of me. I do not enjoy it but it seems really hard to stand up for myself.

I have always been different. I have always been extremely tall(6ft2in now), and on the chubby side. I am intelligent, and an artist. I also came out as bisexual when I was 14. On top of everything, I moved around a TON growing up. My father was schizophrenic, and my mother was always too wrapped up in herself to pay me any mind. Seeing these kids on the screen, well, that was me. There were many years that I didn't have a single friend. I would come home from junior high for months just covered in bruises, because high school boys would throw apples at me after we got off the school bus. They would call me the jolly gay giant, lurch, and many others. It never ended. It never got better. Nobody cared about me.

As time went on, I just quit telling the teachers. In all actuality, the teachers bullied me too. I never got cast for anything because I was too fat and tall, and because I wasn't popular. I never was in a play, even though I auditioned for every single one. I never sang a solo, even though I could sing them all perfectly. None of my tormentors ever got any punishment, because it always seemed to be my fault. I also had no idea how to relate to other people when I was a kid. I didn't know what was wrong with me, I just knew I was different, and so did everybody else.

It finally came to a precipice, when in my sophomore year of high school, I got drug to the middle of a tiny town in Montana, by my non caring mother. A place where people who are even slightly different get beaten, stabbed, their homes vandalized, and probably even killed at one point or another. I faded through the cracks, as kids pushed me in to lockers, called me a tranny because of my height, and once spray painted my best friends car with a nice, big, DYKE LOVER on the side of it.

So at the beginning of my junior year I left. I left the pain, I left the place that I was supposed to be learning, and the place that had become my prison. I would cry to my mom to not make me go to school, and eventually, she let me quit going. She didn't want to fight with her weird daughter, because she was a simple woman, and didn't know what to do. So she let me give up. But it still didn't get better. You see, living in a small town, I got to see all the people I went to school with in every single place I went. I was 17, an outcast with no friends, and nothing but pain in my heart. Then, I ran.

I was 17 years old, and I ran. I ran away from the cesspool that tried to drag me in so many times before. The town that I had lived in for two short years, and attempted suicide 4 times. The home where my mother just wanted a normal family, and I didn't fit in to her image of that. The people who had threatened my life countless times, but had crushed my spirit for the last time. I ran to a new place, with new people, and a whole new life.

Then, I began to live. I got outside of the whirling vortex of hatred, into the world of loving and accepting adults. I began to travel the country as a singer and musician, I made art everywhere I went and sold paintings and jewelry and anything else I could think to make, and started to surround myself with people who loved me and cared about me. Not a single person hated me because I was tall, or thought I was stupid for being an artist, and my first girlfriend thought it was pretty amazing that I was bisexual, and that I had the courage to just be myself.

Now, I have played music in over 30 states, had paintings hung and sold in galleries, owned an online business, and now work as an artist and musician, and am raising my beautiful son. I have a son now, and I don't want his school experience to be like mine. I want him to be able to learn in a safe space, and to be able to flourish and be himself without fearing for his life, or wanting to take his own life. I don't want him to cry the oceans of tears that I cried, over so many broken hearts throughout my short little life. And I want people to love each other, like I love them...just as they are. 

Please, we are all so beautiful in our differences. I just want people to know that it doesn't have to be that way, and it shouldn't have to get better. We should be able to enjoy our lives. Not just our adult lives, but our childhoods too. I love all of you, and hope you have a wonderful day.

Also, heres a video of a blues song that I wrote recently. This one is for all my choir teachers and drama directors who told me my voice wasn't good enough. I sure showed them, didn't I ;)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K12X8Cwu0HE

I've been bullied since about the 5th grade. I've never really belonged to a "clique" or "group". I was made fun of because I liked reading for fun. I was made fun of for simply being "that weird girl" or "the retarded kids sister". I used to go to a private, Christian school, and the bullying there is some if the worst I've ever seen. I tried to ask for help but none of the teachers or principles did anything. I'm going on 16, and on December 25, 2009, my two twin brothers were born. They gave me hope when I thought there was none. When they were still in the womb, the oldest had the possibility of having Down Syndrome, they were both born happy and healthy. Personally I used to cut, and tried to commit suicide 3 times. But after I left private school, and started high school at a public school, my life improved drastically. I started making friends, better grades, and got more involved with sports. I soon stopped cutting, and started leading a healthier life style. I'm slowly starting to make a difference here in NC, and hope to help change the world someday.

Hi everyone... My name is Amy-Louise... When I was around eight/nine I started to be bullied by this one girl. I tried to not let it bother me to start with, ignored the hurtful comments she made, but soon enough more people started and it became worse. In the space of a few months the verbal bullying became physical as well. I had one best friend at the time, who stuck by me, but soon enough she joined another group of friends and I was left alone. I quickly became friends with two girls who I loved like sisters, but as time passed the one I trusted most became best friends with the girl who started the bullying in the first place, the girl who punched me, kicked me, pulled my hair. When the girls mum told me I was a 'stupid little brat', I told my grandma, who told my parents. My parents went up to school the next day for it to be sorted, once my parents left, the girl who started the bullying, my two friends and myself, were sat down in the heads office, and it was 'sorted out'. The head teachers idea of sorting it out was to tell me to stop being a 'whiny' and 'over dramatic' girl. She believed the bully, and my two 'friends' said that I was lying. Some stuff happened between myself and the bullies mum, after that, but when I finally got to my last day of Primary school, I was relieved. It would change, I would get new friends, I wouldn't be bullied any longer. At least, that's what I believed. On my first week of senior school, it started again, except, instead of it being around 60 kids, it was nearly 180 kids. I made up with the two girls who betrayed me, when I was with the head, because they claimed they were pressured by the bully. I stuck friends with them, for quite a while and they stuck by me, until last summer. That's when one of them turned against me, on D of E, where my whole group, who I had come to trust, left me in the middle of no-where, with no map, no emergency contact details and no water. I haven't spoken to her since them, and have been spending time with the other girl and two of our new friends. I still get bullied, quite badly, but I don't dare to speak up again. Through the whole time the same sort of things keep cropping up, names like 'fat, ugly, worthless, slut, whore'. People don't realise how much it hurts, I haven't been badly physically bullied in nearly two months now, so I'm hoping that maybe it will end for good...

It has effected me really badly, I have self confident issues, I've thought about 'escapes', but I've never had the guts to do anything. I couldn't break my brother like that.

My confidence if slowly healing, and to say that I'm only fifteen I've been quite successful, I get straight A grades and do modelling work, which really boosted my confidence.

I was bullied in school when I was a kid and when you defended your self you got the blame from the teacher, no wonder why it continues, teachers have a lot to answer for, they are to be blamed if the don´t stop it. And other grown ups did nothing except blaming me when I defended my self.  I had to take care of the bullies when the grown ups couldn't see, then they left me alone.  I still refuse to see my self as a grown up because I really hate their attitudes and I will NOT become like them. You should NOT get the blame when you defend against bullies, there is no way one should feel any pity for bullies.  They should not be aloud to go to school with nice kids, the damages the do to others is not excusably.  I will for the rest of my life defend kids against bullies, if I see you bullying I will be your worst nightmare.
Peace & Love

When I was in elementary school I used to get bullied because of my weight I was one of the fatest kids. I never understood why people would talk about me I was just like them.. When I was in the 4th grade this girl followed me in the bathroom and I had just stepped in the stall and the girl said hey fatty and I turned around and she was right  behind me I stepped up and she 

I am very shy putting this out in public. Hope you all enjoy. 

 

: For the ones that are alone:

 

For all ones that is alone in this world.

 

That cries every single day, deep down inside their hearts when their worlds are always so dark and blue.

 

It doesn’t matter how much light that is above you

 Or

How many smiles are given to you, as you try to smile, no matter what as hard you try.

 

It doesn’t feel the same at any given point of time, which it did in the forgotten past as long you can remember.

 

You all have a special place in my heart.

 

You are not alone.

 

This is a cruel world we live in.

 

The hopeless through out history, always seems to be the weakest in human kind eyes, I promise you are not.

 

You are all the strongest people out there in human kind.

 

The entire ones that fight for a smile, hug, a given word of a true friend, only seems to get durst in their faces with drops of sadness coming down their faces, saying why me, why me at any give moment.

 

When they have kind heart full of sweetness to all in life and only gets broken hearts from its self’s. 

 

Never stop trying; the world is a special place for you all.

 

Always be yourself, it’s hard as you may think.

 

At the end, there will be many rewards that you will never stop smiling about.

 

I can’t tell you what they are or the next and next person and so on can’t.

 

You are not alone.

 

 

By Trent  Miller 

4/11/14

When I was a kid, I was bullied at home and at school.

My mom and dad made me feel worthless. Mostly my dad ignored me. My mother, who had many of her own problems, used me as a verbal punching bag. She said I would never have any friends and that I was ruining the family. We moved all the time because my dad would constantly get fired or quit. I was always the new kid. I used to live near extended family. But with all the moves I lost touch with my favorite cousins and my grandparents.

While there were two or so people who bullied me, mostly I was ignored. No matter where I went, people either didn't like me or ignored me. It happened in place after place and summer camp after summer camp. I never knew why I was bullied and ignored, which made it worse. I knew there was something very different about me that made me a terrible person, but I didn't know how everybody else knew that.

Then my parents got divorced. It was just me and my brother. She yelled at me and he was doing drugs with his druggie friends. I only had my cat.

One day after my mother raged at me and tore down a poster from my room I took a bunch of pills and ended up in the hospital. They made me go to a therapist but I was afraid to talk because I didn't know how to talk without crying and I wasn't going to cry. It never occurred to tell anything to anyone. There wasn't anything to tell. I was worthless and everyone knew it. Why would I want to point this out? I spent the therapy time counting the tiles on the ceiling.

That's mostly what I did with the bad feelings. I numbed everything out. I did not pay attention to anything or anyone. My mind was never on where I was or what I was doing. I would be thinking about what it would be like to have a boy kiss me. I had a lot of fantasies like that. I read a ton of books and that is pretty much where I lived; inside of books. I didn't learn very much in school about math or science or geography. I still don't know how to divide except on a calculator.

I didn't know how I was feeling because there was just relentless misery. I know now that certain things made me happy, like a beautiful spring day. But I didn't know what "happy" meant. I didn't know anything about different feelings. After the divorce I would go on a bus to my dad's new home. He had a new family and although he never said I wasn't his real family anymore (he would deny that to his death) it was clear I was an outsider. He had more kids and he said they needed him more than me, so he didn't have time for me anymore. When I visited him I would get so unhappy I would steal things from a nearby store. That made me feel I was getting something I deserved. I got anorexia for a year and was teased in the shower for my ribs sticking out. Then I became a binge eater and doubled my weight. (I still struggle with that.)

Even after I grew up (getting a bit ahead of myself here) that continued. He and my stepmother stopped inviting me over for holidays because they said I was too depressed. My dad was unhappy that I wasn't meeting his needs for loving attention. Eventually he told me I was his extended relative because we didn't live together under the same roof. When I got a job he was mad that I didn't give him large sums of money because he said he needed it because he was constantly quitting or losing jobs.

My brother got out of drugs and into religion. He said that made him feel loved. I couldn't get into that.

Then (back now when I was younger) I graduated from high school and went into college. I started making friends and I had dates for the first time. I started making friends. I saw many therapists. I started figuring out what "happy" meant. I slept with many men just to feel desirable. I had always been pretty, but I had never known that. I thought my inner ugliness meant I was ugly all over. But suddenly men wanted me and I liked that feeling. I had to learn that just because they wanted me it didn't mean they wanted a relationship.

One day I was at home and I came down the stairs in the morning and I found my mother crying. She said, "I am so sorry that I treated you that way. I was so jealous. But I always loved you, I always always loved you." I hugged her but was so astounded by what she was saying that I didn't know how to react. (Later, she would deny we ever had that conversation.) But from that moment forward me healing intensified.

I would find out many MANY years later that before they got married, my mom and dad broke up for a brief time and my mother got pregnant. She was Catholic and alone in a big city. She called up my father and they got back together. This was before women in the US were allowed to have abortions. My father said he would marry her, but only if she gave up the baby for adoption. So she did. The baby looked just like me when I was a baby. She was never allowed to grieve that child and she put it in the back of her mind and never mentioned it to anyone again.

When she was six months pregnant with me, her beloved father died. By the time she had me, she had had two major losses, one of which she wasn't even allowed to grieve for. When I was a baby my dad loved the unconditional love I gave him and was a wonderful father. He loved surprising me with presents and playing with me. My mom had to watch him do that knowing she gave up her first child to be with him.

My dad's father--my grandfather--cheated on my grandmother and my grandmother's brothers ran him out of town.  My grandmother knew she had to get out of that small town and find a husband (that was all you could do as a woman back than) so she had my dad live with her parents, my great grandparents. My aunt (my father's sister) said he was treated terribly by his grandparents as he was growing up. Why? Because he looked like his unfaithful father. He never had anyone love him. By the time his mother came back with a husband when he was 14, he was too mad at her to come live with her. He just demanded money. To him, money was love, and other people were put on earth to meet his needs.

He had a very bad childhood, but instead of trying to get over it he spent all his time getting mad at other people for things long forgotten. He never tried to change his self-centered ways. [He died a poor, angry, resentful man. While I grieved for the "daddy" I had when I was little, I do not grieve the person he became.]

When I was a junior in college I met a man whom I lived with and dated for five years. He was the first person in the world who ever gave me unconditional love. He never yelled at me. He was always there for me. He loved me and I loved him. During that five years, I did a lot of healing. I made other friends. I found out I had a great wit, that I was fun to be around, that I was talented in many ways, and a lot of people liked being around me. But I didn't know how to be around them. I had never been around people so I didn't know how to act.

It took me a very long time to learn how to be appropriately social with people at home and work. I ended up losing many jobs because I just didn't know you shouldn't always be honest, like when people ask how they look in a certain dress, you're not supposed to say, "That's a terrible color on you." I was so focused on the work (which I was good at) that I didn't know how to play politics. I made many errors in being around people, some of which were so bad I was even able to laugh at them later. But I learned.

It took me many, many years to piece together what happened, why people never liked me. I am still putting parts of the puzzle together. What had I done or been that was so invisible to me that made people dislike, bully, or ignore me?

I was in my 30's when I discovered I was not bad. I had just been afraid of people--so afraid because having been around my mother I never knew when someone would start screaming at me. I could never trust anyone. When I was a kid I couldn't look people in the eyes. I moved slowly and sadly. I didn't say "hi" to anyone. I ignored them because I was afraid.

But they all thought I was being haughty and they assumed I felt I was better than everyone else. If someone ignores you, you ignore them. And of course some kids have their eye out for those who are scared, lack confidence, or are always alone. I still feel a lot of shame sometimes, unless I am careful to remind myself where that came from. I must remind myself that just because you feel something, that doesn't make it true.

Today I am friends with people who were probably very popular in school--for all I know. Once you graduate, the whole way of separating people into certain groups (popular, nerds, etc.) vanishes. It is gone. Something that is so influential when you are young and a young adult doesn't mean SQUAT once you get out of school. No one cares anymore. No one even KNOWs what you were in school, nor do they care. They only care what you are like now. I wish I could get young people to understand that. I could have died because no one told me the things that seemed so important back then were really totally unimportant.

I talked before about meeting a man and having a healing relationship. We parted after 5 years, but were still very very good friends until about three years after we both married other people. I still loved him as a friend (and always will) but his wife thought having a friendship with a former girlfriend was too strange. She was too threatened.

But I did have other relationships and married someone who loved me for me. We are still together after 20 years and we are best friends. He has issues from his childhood like me, and sometimes we don't mesh together. But most of the time we do.

Having the childhood that I had formed me in many ways that I am still trying to get over. I still fear people, but I can suppress it and make friends. I have found things I love to do and I found several careers that were just right for me. I even became very famous for my job, someone whose name you might even know if you ran in certain circles. That is because I turned around and used all this knowledge to help others.

I spent all this time writing this (I am glad if you are still with me!!) to tell you that things do get better, and no matter how bullied you can be at home or school you can live a very happy life and learn to love yourself (if you have trouble with that). Some of it will always stick with me; for example I am still trying to overcome binge eating and feeling comfortable in groups. It is much easier for me to be with people one on one. 

But I wouldn't be who I was today had it not all happened. And I would not have been able to help the many hundreds of thousands--perhaps even a million--other people whom I have been able to help. Sometimes I wish I could have lived a "normal" life. But helping others has given it meaning.

The people I am most thankful to have helped are children who live with parents like mine. I know when I do die that I was here for some kind of purpose, and that the suffering I did had some meaning to it.

When I was a kid, I was bullied at home and at school.

My mom and dad made me feel worthless. Mostly my dad ignored me. My mother, who had many of her own problems, used me as a verbal punching bag. She said I would never have any friends and that I was ruining the family. We moved all the time because my dad would constantly get fired or quit. I was always the new kid. I used to live near extended family. But with all the moves I lost touch with my favorite cousins and my grandparents.

While there were two or so people who bullied me, mostly I was ignored. No matter where I went, people either didn't like me or ignored me. It happened in place after place and summer camp after summer camp. I never knew why I was bullied and ignored, which made it worse. I knew there was something very different about me that made me a terrible person, but I didn't know how everybody else knew that.

Then my parents got divorced. It was just me and my brother. She yelled at me and he was doing drugs with his druggie friends. I only had my cat.

One day after my mother raged at me and tore down a poster from my room I took a bunch of pills and ended up in the hospital. They made me go to a therapist but I was afraid to talk because I didn't know how to talk without crying and I wasn't going to cry. It never occurred to tell anything to anyone. There wasn't anything to tell. I was worthless and everyone knew it. Why would I want to point this out? I spent the therapy time counting the tiles on the ceiling.

That's mostly what I did with the bad feelings. I numbed everything out. I did not pay attention to anything or anyone. My mind was never on where I was or what I was doing. I would be thinking about what it would be like to have a boy kiss me. I had a lot of fantasies like that. I read a ton of books and that is pretty much where I lived; inside of books. I didn't learn very much in school about math or science or geography. I still don't know how to divide except on a calculator.

I didn't know how I was feeling because there was just relentless misery. I know now that certain things made me happy, like a beautiful spring day. But I didn't know what "happy" meant. I didn't know anything about different feelings. After the divorce I would go on a bus to my dad's new home. He had a new family and although he never said I wasn't his real family anymore (he would deny that to his death) it was clear I was an outsider. He had more kids and he said they needed him more than me, so he didn't have time for me anymore. When I visited him I would get so unhappy Ii would steal things from a nearby store. That made me feel I was getting something I deserved. I got anorexia for a year and was teased in the shower for my ribs sticking out. Then I became a binge eater and doubled my weight.

Even after I grew up (getting a bit ahead of myself here) that continued. He and my stepmother stopped inviting me over for holidays because they said I was too depressed. My dad was unhappy that I wasn't meeting his needs for loving attention. Eventually he told me I was his extended relative because we didn't live together under the same roof. When I got a job he was mad that I didn't give him large sums of money because he said he needed it because he was constantly quitting or losing jobs.

My brother got out of drugs and into religion. He said that made him feel loved. I couldn't get into that.

Then (back now when I was younger) I graduated from high school and went into college. I started making friends and I had dates for the first time. I started making friends. I saw many therapists. I started figuring out what "happy" meant. I slept with many men just to feel desirable. I had always been pretty, but I had never known that. I thought my inner ugliness meant I was ugly all over. But suddenly men wanted me and I liked that feeling. I had to learn that just because they wanted me it didn't mean they wanted a relationship.

One day I was at home and I came down the stairs in the morning and I found my mother crying. She said, "I am so sorry that I treated you that way. I was so jealous. But I always loved you, I always always loved you." (Later, she would deny we ever had that conversation. But it helped me heal.)

I would find out many MANY years later that before they got married, my mom and dad broke up for a brief time and my mother got pregnant. She was Catholic and alone in a big city. She called up my father and they got back together. This was before women in the US were allowed to have abortions. My father said he would marry her, but only if she gave up the baby for adoption. So she did. The baby looked just like me when I was a baby. She was never allowed to grieve that child and she put it in the back of her mind and never mentioned it to anyone again.

When she was six months pregnant with me, her beloved father died. By the time she had me, she had had two major losses, one of which she wasn't even allowed to grieve for. When I was a baby my dad loved the unconditional love and was a wonderful father. He loved surprising me with presents and playing with me. My mom had to watch him do that knowing she gave up her first child to be with him.

My dad's father--my grandfather--cheated on my grandmother and my grandmother's brothers ran him out of town. My last name comes from him, but I have never met a relative (outside my immediate family) with that last name. My grandmother knew she had to get out of that small town and find a husband (that was all you could do as a woman back than) so she had my dad live with her parents, my great grandparents. My aunt (my father's sisters) said he was treated terribly by his grandparents as he was growing up. Why? Because he looked like his unfaithful father. He never had anyone love him. By the time his mother came back with a husband when he was 14, he was too mad at her to come live with her. He just demanded money. To him, money was love, and other people were put on earth to meet his needs.

He had a very bad childhood, but instead of trying to get over it he spent all his time getting mad at other people for things long forgotten. He never tried to change his self-centered ways. He died a poor, angry, resentful man.

When I was a junior in college I met a man whom I lived with and dated for five years. He was the first person in the world who ever gave me unconditional love. He never yelled at me. He was always there for me. He loved me and I loved him. During that five years, I did a lot of healing. I made other friends. I found out I had a wicked wit, that I was fun to be around, that I was talented in many ways, and a lot of people liked being around me. But I  didn't know how to be around them. I had never been around people so I didn't know how to act.

It took me a very long time to learn how to be appropriately social with people at home and work. I ended up losing many jobs because I just didn't know you shouldn't always be honest, like when people ask how they look in a certain dress, you're not supposed to say, "That's a terrible color on you." I was so focused on the work (which I was good act) that I didn't know how to play politics. I made many errors in being around people, some of which were so bad I was even able to laugh at them later. But I learned.

It took me many, many years to piece together what happened, why people never liked me. I am still putting parts of the puzzle together. What had I done or been that was so invisible to me that made people dislike, bully, or ignore me?

I was in my 30's when I discovered I was not bad. I had just been afraid of people--so afraid because having been around my mother I never knew when someone would start screaming at me. I could never trust anyone. When I was a kid I couldn't look people in the eyes. I moved slowly and sadly. I didn't say "hi" to anyone. I ignored them because I was afraid. But I didn't know emotions, so I didn't know I was afraid. Fear was just the way I lived. Since I never lived without it, I just thought that was how things were supposed to be.

I didn't know parents were supposed to love their children and pay attention to them even when they got to be a teenager. By the time I was a teenager, my parents were into new relationships and my father had a new family. I never had children because  knew I would never know how to be a parent.

I talked before about meeting a man and having a healing relationship. We parted after 5 years, but were still very very good friends until about three years after we both married other people. I still loved him as a friend (and always will) but his wife thought having a friendship with a former girlfriend was too strange. She was too threatened.

But I did have other relationships and married someone who loved me for me. We are still together after 20 years and we are best friends. He has issues from his childhood like me, and sometimes we don't mesh together. But ost of the time we do.

Having the childhood that I had formed me in many ways that I am still trying to get over. I still fear people, but I can suppress it and make friends. I have found things I love to do and I found several careers that were just right for me. I even became very famous for my job, someone whose name you might even know if you ran in certain circles. That is because I turned around and used all this knowledge to help others.

I spent all this time writing this (I am glad if you are still with me!!) to tell you that things do get better, and no matter how bullied you can be at home or school you can live a very happy life and learn to love yourself (if you have trouble with that). Some of it will always stick with me. But I wouldn't be who I was today had it not all happened. And I would not have been able to help the many hundreds of thousands--perhaps even a million--other people whom I have been able to help. Sometimes I wish I could have lived a "normal" life. But helping others has given it meaning. The people I am most thankful to have helped are children who live with parents like mine. I know when I die that I was here for some kind of purpose, and that the suffering I did had some meaning to it.