I sat down to write this post the very next day after writing the acknowledgements for Poems Gone Nuclear, my debut poetry collection (coming out next month, more details on that soon!). While mulling over the list of names that had to be mentioned in the acknowledgements, unavoidably, I ended up thinking about my growth throughout the last eight years, filled with writing and dreams of getting published someday. One hell of a ride indeed, so many changes within one small portion of a human lifetime. A lot of good and a fair share of bad, too. And although I’m quite open about my life experiences here on the blog, there are things I’m not transparent about, not even in my personal life.
Today, I’d like to share one such thing.
It’s something I am actively moving on from, a bit of a turning point in my life, I’d dare say a point of no return. It’s something I shared bits and pieces about to people in my life, never in the form of a life story, more so as a matter-of-factly thing I bumped into along the way. I don’t think I’ve ever voiced how big of an impact it’s had on me. It’s crazy to think it’s been a part of my life for years, but I never spoke about it to the extent that it occupied in my life. I guess I could partly blame it on the reactions people usually have whenever I happen to mention it. And I don’t blame them for it: people tend to get uncomfortable when others get personal or candid about their experiences.
It’s something I promised to talk about in my post on mental health and bullying, and I figured this is as good of a time as any to fulfil that promise.
So yeah, let’s talk about my graduation day.
The very end of my final year of high school, a ceremony usually filled with joy and contentment and laughs and pictures to look at ten years from now. And to be fair, it has been that for me, too. I was happy to have finally finished mandatory education, achieved the results that I wanted, marched towards the next big chapter of my life: university, proper adult stuff. We had a mini-party before the main event and a form outing afterwards, we had cake and took pictures and enjoyed everybody’s eyes fixed on us with awe at how fast we’ve grown up, how far we’ve come and what a wonderful journey we had ahead of us. The classic.
My graduation day was also a punch in the stomach. No, not even that. A hit from the back. Dirty and unexpected. Only that I partly expected it, because the evening before, I was talking to my mother about not turning up at the ceremony at all.
(photo credit: Bianca Cojocaru)
Graduation day marked the finale to my eight-year long experience with bullying. It sounds so weird saying it. It happened in both of the academic environments that I’d been a part of in my childhood and teenage years, but not once have I gotten used to it and until recently (around five months ago), I have questioned why it happened to me, out of all the people. I was verbally abused, talked about behind my back, insulted and put down. Some of the perpetrators tried to publicly humiliate me on several occasions. I was gaslighted into thinking I deserved it, it was my fault that I was treated this way, I brought it upon myself. Many of the people who called themselves my friends stood by and watched it happen, and many of the people who stayed in my life after that used my experience with bullying to emotionally manipulate me.
Graduation day was the cherry on top of the cake. It could’ve been a day of kindness and fun and I made active efforts in that direction, but they haven’t been reciprocated. Some people have tried to make the day crappy for me, in front of everybody in our form. Looking back, I really don’t think they succeeded. I don’t remember feeling humiliated or hurt in any way, just very confused about what happened and why it happened. It was a show of true colours, I guess, more than anything, but not just for the people who did it. I was taken aback to see that there was only one person brave enough to stand up for me right there, on the spot. A friend of mine. A random friend I wouldn’t have even considered to ever put on my emergency contacts list.
Not even my best friend.
Not even the boy who said he loved me just a week before.
So yeah, that was interesting to see. Not even kidding, I’m laughing to myself as I am writing this.
I felt very alone that day, and not just because the ones I considered my people haven’t supported me as I would’ve expected. Graduation day was also the day I realised how little my efforts as a student really mattered – the very thing that supposedly gave people ‘good’ reasons to bully me on an almost daily basis. After a four-year effort, I managed to achieve a full A* across my entire grades grid, for which I was awarded a special diploma. All good there, until the person who awarded me this diploma – one could easily guess what their position in my academic institution was – made sure he’d make it clear, standing in front of everybody, speaking into the microphone, that the only reason why I achieved a full A* grid was because I was enrolled on a Humanities course, which is, obviously, less challenging than a Sciences-based course.
So that was nice to hear as well, especially for my parents who were there to celebrate my achievement along with me.
Why have I decided to tell you this story today? I didn’t do it for your pity or angered support. At the end of the day, Halo Test is a motivational blog. It is my project of self-improvement and making progress, and enjoying life while you’re at it. If anything, I hope reading this post has taught you how important it is to get back up after you fall, because that’s what I did. I walked through the day with a smile on my face, I tried to make the most out of a bad situation, and when I got the chance, I left. Not just the ceremony, not just high school. I left my hometown, I left my country, I left my past behind, I refused to bear this immense load of residue any longer. Nowhere in the book was it written that I deserve to go through it all, although people have tried to convince me that it was.
During the next year and a half, I refused to process what happened to me. It was at the beginning of my second year of university that I accepted to give it another think, and another, and another, how many necessary to understand. Have I managed to understand? Not really. There is nothing in this world that can convince me that it made sense for me to be bullied. Those eight years of torment were eight years of me trying my fucking best. Trying my best at school, trying my best at making friends, trying my best at getting to know myself and making it through adolescence. Trying my best at protecting myself whenever I became a target. I certainly did my fair share of mistakes, and I am sure I haven’t always responded well to people’s behaviour. But there is not one even remotely moral way to justify the fact that I was bullied the way I was.
And who believes there is can go fuck themselves. I did not deserve any of it.
And once I understood that, it was easy for me to let go and move on. Stop wondering, stop thinking about it, stop going back to it for whatever purpose I thought it served in my current life. Once I came to terms with not knowing the why of it, I started forgiving. Then, I started wishing the best for those who once made me feel like I was nothing. Then, I considered writing about it for you guys.
This was a story I was once too ashamed to share. I still have second thoughts about putting it up, but I also think it’s a story people have to read. Those who have known me then and those who know me, and even those who might’ve just stumbled on their first Halo Test post. This story brought me where I am now, and I may not be able to understand the entirety of it, but I can use it to build myself up even further.
I guess one could expect one final message for the people I wrote about here, and the thought kind of makes me cringe. I really don’t have much to say to these people, other than the expected have a nice life, try and be less of an asshole next time and other things among these lines. I guess I could say thank you, though. Thank you for tearing me down so low, that I understood I had no choice but to get back up and reach higher every single time. Thank you for telling me that I was nothing, because it gave me the motive to look inside and realise I had everything. Thank you for giving me a million reasons to prove you wrong.
Pinky promise that I’m just getting started.
X
Photo credit: Bianca Cojocaru.