BULLIED 2

Submission 1147

Hello Everyone!

My name is GenerationZzZ, better known as Hannah or Hannalei.

I'd like to share my story in this book and on tumblr, as I have begun to do in real life at my school and with my friends. This story is supposed to carry the message to kids and teens not to stereotype and not to bully - it can impact someone's entire life, and I think that's the part we like to leave out of anti-bullying. They tell us not to bully because it's wrong, it hurts people, etc. etc. But how often do you hear this; "Bullying can change someone's life forever, and not in a positive way." Either that isn't what we normally hear, or my school is holding out on me.

If your a visual person like me, I'm about to give you an analogy that fits my above statement:

We are all like clay. Just basic lumps of clay, open to creative minds and skilled hands to shape up. Now the bullying and the teasing and the labelling and the stereotyping, that's the 'hands' that mould the clay. While some clay is hardened and can resist the moulding, other clay cannot, and will eventually become what the hands make it to be.

Luckily, it is becoming more common for kids and teens not to bow down to bullying, the 'Hardened Clay' from my analogy. But sometimes we do have people like me who let the world run all over them. So here is my story, and I hope you consider these things as you read it.

I started school in the third grade, having been homeschooled before that. From day one, I was like a bully magnet. I dressed in clothes that were mismatched or didn't fit at all, I had no social skills, and I could hardly read or write, and I couldn't do math at all. So kids teased me relentlessly, and I was to naive to understand why or what half of their insults meant. Kids would push me, trip me, and hit me. All the time. Eventually the bruises began popping up. Of course, I got teased for that too.

What everyone didn't understand was this; My home life was a war zone. My parents fought endlessly, so I was neglected, and abused by my father. My father would spend our last penny on his beer and his cigarettes, and for most of my life we had no electricity or heat, no running water, and sometimes we would come home to a lock on the door. So my mother had to make up for his slack, ignoring my schooling and well-being so she could work. That's why my clothes didn't fit, why I couldn't read or write, and why I was so naive. As for those bruises they teased me for? Forget school fights, (although that was one factor) they came from my father in his drunk rage.

After fourth grade, when I was ten, my parents separated. And it wasn't pretty either. My mother sent me and my little sister (who was three at the time) off to my grandmothers, waited for my dad to leave for the day, then packed up everything we owned. My dad came home to an empty house that night, and mom told me and Haleigh that we weren't going home.

So I started fifth grade at a small country school the next year, where everyone had known everyone since kindergarten. I was still shy and awkward, and while there was some teasing, it wasn't as bad until my sixth and seventh grade years.

In sixth grade I made a friend, who we will call Bully One for writing purposes. Now Bully One was the first real "friend" I ever had, and I clung to that, even though the friendship was poisonous. She became my worst nightmare, and I basically let her determine my happiness. She teased me for the same things the others had back in third and fourth grade - My bruises, and being generally naive and stupid.

But what she didn't know is that the separation of my parents was worse for me then the situation before had ever been. My mom was trying to cope with the stress of being a single parent, and with my awkward teenaged years coming up, all that stress got taken out on me in the form of physical abuse. She would push me, hit me, and often times I would go to school wearing jeans to hide the bruises on my legs. I tried to reach out to a teacher by leaving my health book intentionally opened to the page on physical abuse. But no one ever noticed, and I never told.

Seventh grade was perhaps the worst year yet for me. I had several things all going wrong at once.

My mothers abuse had gotten bad enough that I had to make excuses for having bruised arms and legs, since I couldn't risk hiding them with out-of-season clothing for fear of being suspicious. I was even suicidal and made two suicide attempts.

At another point in time, my dad moved to my town and I was able to live with him without changing schools. It was a horrible mistake though - It was like walking away from a lioness just to find I was running to a tiger. My dad had converted to his old drunk ways, and the abuse was just as bad as it had been with my mom.

With all of this going on at home, I still had to deal with the stress of school. I had made two new friends, called my Best Friend and my Girl Friend for my story, but Bully One was still my main torment. I couldn't just get away from her and make new friends either - my Best Friend was part of a group of friends that I was still very close to. Bully One and her Minion, who I will call Bully Two, were the only two I had trouble with in my group.

But by the middle of the year, Bullies One and Two had somehow turned the people I once called friend into my worst enemies. The teasing started up again, worse then ever. They called me horrible names and made fun of my scars (caused by my mother, father, and some school fights) and were terrible to me. I tried not to let it get to me, but this happened at the exact same time my home life nosedived.

I was stuck on the edge of insanity, terrified to go home at night. I spent most of my time on the streets around my house, and that's where I became friends with all the wrong people - People who got me hooked on cigarettes. My manic depression (Now diagnosed as Bipolar disorder, as of recently) had gotten so out of hand that my mother was threatening me - She was going to send me to a mental hospital, or put me in a foster home.

I somehow made it through the year, only with the support of my wonderful Girl Friends and my amazing Best Friend. . . and the occasional cigarette.

My mother had decided that once school was over for the year, she was putting me into foster care and saying "good riddance", but my grandmother rescued me and I am now living with her.

So after thirteen years of excessive physical bullying and abuse, at home and at school, I can finally have some peace. Though certain parts of my life cannot be erased - Underaged smoking, drinking, and drug use. My criminal record, from two arrests. These are the things I have to live with, and it isn't good baggage to carry.

Don't let the bullying get to you! Even with all the stereotyping and teasing. Everyone expected me to turn down the wrong path, if only because I was badly abused. And I did. I'm not proud of who I've become, so let me be an example to you - Don't be like me!

If you have any questions, or your seeking advice, feel free to PM me. I'm always open to share what I know.

From one Surviver to Another,

Hannahlei

ADVICE: Stereotyping, teasing, labelling - These are part of the world we're growing up in. We just have to overcome it.

If you let it get to you, if you let people define who you are, you'll become just like me. You will make all the wrong decisions, some that may stay with you forever, like my addictions and records. Don't be like me, because you can be so much better.