Posts Tagged ‘bully’

It’s no secret that I was bullied.

That I endured more than just friendly classroom humour.

That I dreaded going to school and facing the ridicule and teasing.

Despite the memories I would not change a thing.

Today I’m guest posting over at Kelly K’s new blog.

I Survived The Mean Girls.

Please visit me there.


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When I was in 6th grade my mom gave me a card. A simple blue card with a picture of flowers on the front.  The purpose was to comfort me, to encourage me to stay strong, to give me courage.

Because I was being bullied.

Cards and notes like this one would show up on my dresser periodically throughout the rest of my childhood. Folded words purposely placed to tell me she was proud, that I was loved, that she was listening.

Put there to help me cope.

Recently I found my box of cards.

The memories danced off of them as I ran my hands over their surfaces and across the curved lines of my mom’s smooth writing. Her words placed with intention and with love.

At the bottom of the pile was the blue card.

The one my mom had given me in grade 6.

Its edges weak and tattered, corners worn, and ink faded.

Taped to the back was a note.

“Be yourself and your friends will love you. We love you.”

Words to live by.


Happy Mothers Day Mom I love you more than I have words. Thank you.

And Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad – Today! Thank you for raising me the way you did, for teaching me to have morals, determination, integrity, and to stand up for myself and what I believe (in).

You gave me life, what a gift. Xo

Let's BEE Friends


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The Mom Pledge

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Blogging was something I had thought about for a long time but because I wasn’t part of the community I had not idea the impact it would have on me until I began. Learning about the technical aspect and all of the pieces that go into a blog almost scared me off, but I persevered. I needed to write.

I was battling a war with PPD/A and needed an outlet, a place to express myself. Feelings of vulnerability hit me like a wave as I hit publish and I had no idea what to expect from cyberspace. I was afraid of being judged, criticized, and laughed at. But, as I wrote I was linked with more PPD survivors and more moms.

I met The Empress.

I was filled with gratitude.

Finding this community was keeping me above water.

And then?

A comment so cruel that I had to read it twice. I stared at it in disbelief. Where had it come from? Why would another mom, another woman write such hate?

I had a choice, I could acknowledge the comment or ignore and re-read all of the positive comments received that day.

I deleted.

Negativity is not welcome.

Bullying is not welcome.

This is why I took the Mom Pledge.

We are all mom’s here doing the same job,  here to support one another.

Here surviving.


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April Fool



It was April Fools Day and I was in grade 6, I walked across town to meet my two girlfriends. We always met at the bottom of the hill and then walked up the rest of the way to school together.

Everyday I worried their giggles behind my back would get worse. They whispered and passed notes, laughed at the things I said, and purposefully excluded me. Today wasn’t going to be a good day. April Fools would give them a reason to be extra mean.

I shoved my hands in my pockets and kept my head lowered. I didn’t know what I had done to make them mad at me or why I was so unlikable. I tried to talk to them, to make them laugh, to be cool so they would like me the same way they used to but nothing worked.
I was the butt of their jokes.
I was being left out of weekend sleep overs.
I was being called names.
I felt lonely.
But I didn’t have any other friends.
I walked up to our meeting spot and looked around. Usually they were there waiting, talking with each other, looking through their book bags, laughing.
Not today.
I was alone.
Tears rolled down my face.
They left me to walk by myself.

Then I remembered it was April Fools Day. It was just a joke! They were just playing a silly joke on me. Oh! Haha. Those silly friends of mine.
I rushed up the hill, ready to laugh with my friends about their crazy antics. Ready to forgive the past months of name calling, mean songs, horrible things written.

When I saw them my heart pounded hard.
I was scared. I was so desperate to have my friends back.
My palms were sweaty in my coat pockets and my backpack felt heavier than normal.

The first girl looked my way and nudged the other one.
She looked at me.
I was afraid of this one. She was bossy and bold and lied to her parents.
She laughed at me.
Grabbed the first girl by the arm and walked away.
It wasn’t a joke.
It was real.
I was invisible.

Invisible for games, for friendship, for secrets, and for sleepovers.
Not for name calling, fat jokes, made up songs, and taunting.
At home I would lie awake and pray for God to give me friends, to make the girls disappear, and ask him why this had happened.
I would cry when it was time for school and beg to stay home, asking why they were doing this to me.

And I wouldn’t know until I grew up.
Until it was time for me to have a daughter.
For me to tell her my story.
It happened to make me the strong, empathetic person I am now.
To those girls I am grateful.


This was written as part of the Red Dress Club, Red Writing Hood Prompt which asked us to write about a memory, to really mine it and write about what the memory meant to us.

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