It Really Does Get Better

I don’t miss being a teenager. It was a complicated and miserable time. Growing up, I was bullied from eighth grade and on/off again throughout high school. Originally my parents considered private schooling me, because, unlike most kids my age, I was different. Different meaning socially awkward and unusually mature. To this day, I often feel like I’m 28 going on 50. I was surrounded around adults for a great deal of my life and didn’t really click with kids my age, so private school was a considerable move. However, my parents couldn’t afford it, so I had to go to public school. This may have been a blessing in disguise. I went to college with a lot of private schooled peers and one thing I quickly gleaned was that many of them collectively had three things in common: a lack of good social skills, being dangerously out of touch with reality, and condescending and privileged attitudes. Though public school was a challenge, I’m abundantly grateful for having had a humbling educational experience. Still, I was a sheltered Christian kid that got schooled promptly when it came to my peers. I was loser. And I felt like one the majority of the time. I wish I would’ve told my younger self, “You won’t be a loser forever…” I had some friends, but I had peers that continually picked on me for sport and other times, because I brought things on myself. Regardless, small taunting and teasing can progress and turn into bullying. I was a target because I was quiet, stayed focused on my work, and kept a low profile, except for the times I was obnoxious, and desperately tried and repeatedly failed, to fit in. In middle school my clothing and looks were the first things targeted. Not to sound self-deprecating, but I wasn’t cute. I was chubby, wore glasses, and had questionable taste in clothing. I was threatened to get beat up, clowned for wearing Sketchers, and once for wearing a non-stitched LeBron James jersey (I wore it the same day another guy in my class wore his and one peer made it a point to expose mine as the fake and my twinning classmates jersey as real.) Another time in seventh grade a group of girls got together and spread a ridiculous sexual rumor about me hooking up with a guy that went to our school. That was humiliating because while it wasn’t true, it was embarrassing for people to say or think that I’d do something like that. I’ll never forget it. There was a lot of staring, snickering, and whispering aimed in my direction. I stayed silent the rest of that school day. I slouched and silently cried the whole bus ride home. There was one girl on the bus, an older peer I didn’t know well, who asked, “Do you want to talk about it?” I shook my head motioning no and when I got off the bus, the walk home seemed miles away. When I walked through the front door I told my mom what happened and struggled putting the sentences together. I especially didn’t want my dad to find out. My dad and I were close, so, explaining a sexual rumor to him was out of the question for me. Naturally, my mother was livid and went out to the school to handle it. I got through it. I just knew that things could get better no matter how bad they seemed at the time. But I continued weathering occasional taunting and teasing, and my grades started to take a hit. I remember begging my mom not to make me go to school, and looking back, I don’t know if she or anyone else realized how bad things were. I was deeply depressed and tired and my mother was stressed because I was stressed. I went from being an A student to a failing one, was in and out of guidance counseling on a regular basis, and as my final year of middle school wrapped, my parents thought it’d be a good idea to move and relocate for a fresh start. I quickly learned that you can change the scenery, but that doesn’t mean the situation will disappear. It was sophomore year of high school. There was a guy on the football team who humiliated me in front of our class and said, “You’re a loser and you suck at life.” The combination of stares, laughter, and silence from my surrounding peers after he said that was utterly crushing and almost unbearable. There was also a group of girls who’d routinely crowd my locker on purpose and laugh and make threatening remarks when I wanted them to step aside so I could get into my locker. That happened every morning for weeks. I went to the principal and it stopped, but the fact that it happened was a pain. Now, remember when I mentioned the different times I brought things on myself? Thus began my bold (and sometimes ridiculous antics as a young Christian.) I often had crushes on the popular guys at school and was vocal about them, carried and quoted bible scriptures, and once told some of my high school classmates I was a prophet. That’s right, a prophet. Clearly I must have been out of my mind. I definitely played myself on that one. But please don’t judge me, I’m being vulnerable here – haha. Although I was still chubby and totally insecure, I was able to slightly up my game in the clothing department. I shopped at places like Hot Topic, Aéropostale, and Hollister, while struggling to figure out where and how I fit in with my peers. Then the growing desire for a boyfriend began to emerge. The guys I liked never liked me back. I can recall writing a silly poem about a friend I liked at the time and can’t imagine how awkward and annoying I must have been. He’s just not that into you took awhile for me to grasp but I eventually got it. That affectionate poem was displayed on MySpace. In high school the closest thing to social media at the time was a platform called Myspace, where people could build their own profiles and communicate with different friends and family. It was also another way to check out what your crushes were up to as well. I don’t know what it was (and is) about teenage girls and crushes. Again, I was obnoxious. So any crush I had eventually found out when I liked him. My awful poem and annoying message didn’t help improve things. Being a teenager, let alone a Christian teenager, was a lot of trial and error. But I got through it. Getting humiliated and picked on at different times sucked, but ultimately, it was a test of character building and I can now see how God even used my years of being and feeling like a loser for a better purpose. These days I feel like a winner. And not to boast, but I believe I look like one too – ugly ducklings always have potential to transform into swans. Never forget that. And while I’m glad to put all of this behind me, I pray for the youth today and have a heart for those who’ve been picked on and humiliated, and especially those who’ve contemplated suicide or followed through with taking their own lives. What’s scary is that any teasing, taunting, bullying, or humiliating moments that happen with teens now, can be recorded, snapped on smart phones, and put on the internet, ultimately causing the victims to relive their humiliating moments all over again. That’s not okay. I want teenagers or anyone else who’s endured those things to know that they can keep pressing forward. You’ll make it through. I did. Seek help if and when needed, and know it really does and can get better. Humiliating moments and all. I promise.