Cycle of Despair. Bullying

As a gay person growing up in a rural town where most families held traditional blue collar values dear. I experienced a great deal of homophobia. I was occasionally chided for my soft spoken, dodge-ball phobic attitude in elementary school. This was in the 90s and even though my peers at the time knew that somehow I was different they did not have the capacity to understand the concept of gay, lesbian, trans-gender, etc. anymore than I myself did. Then I reached the 6th grade. I was home schooled during the 6th grade because my Mother did not want me to be re-zoned into a new district. After a year of only my young siblings to socialize with I grew to crave the interaction with people my own age. So after some initial hesitation My mother re-enrolled me into Middle School. Looking back I see that my Mother was reluctant but perhaps not because it was a distantly zoned school but perhaps she was simply afraid for me. I began the 7th grade a peppy, bright eyed, and nervous tween. I was worried about making friends. I knew that I would encounter many of my old classmates from elementary school and I was excited to see them again. When I walked into homeroom that first day the group of kids I left behind in grade school was not the same group of kids that sat before me.

The next 180 days would be some of the hardest emotionally for me in my life. The bullying was an insidious thing It crept up slowly first starting with a few volatile individuals to almost everyone. Like a cancer metastasizing through the body. By the middle of the year I was hated, teased, shoved, and "picked last". To all but a very few I was persona non-Grata...person not welcome. Fag, queer, retard, pervert, and weird were the only words I heard directed towards me. I never once admitted to my homosexuality. I wasn't able to hide my more effeminate features and I guess it was obvious. I had a small handful of people who were also outcasts I felt safe to at least eat lunch with although I never really connected to them. I hated myself. I hated them. I felt like I was trapped in a cage. When I remember the 7th grade I feel like I'm remembering entire years of my life, not 36 weeks. I never told my parents out of shame the true extent of my anxiety. At this point I was still in the closet to everyone but myself. Although looking back I beleive that deep down my parents knew but were in denial.

I was blessed with a move to Florida with my family and a fresh start as I started 8th grade. Since it was a new state and a new city my Mother opted to home school my siblings and I a few years. I returned to public school in the 11th grade so that I could have a shot at the scholarships available to public school students. I spent my junior and senior years being the everything I had grown to hate about my tormentors in middle school. I dug in my heels and used my words to cut people down with a bratty snipe that makes Regina George look like Mother Theresa. I was so afraid of turning into the scared, battered, little boy I used to be that I took on a persona that I used to survive and I still struggle with that identity to this day. I take responsibility for the things I said and not justifying my actions. I will only say past experiences influence a person's decision making.Would I have taken on such a bitchy and condescending attitude out of insecurity if I myself hadn't been subjected to it? Perhaps and Perhaps not. Through self reflection and just plain maturity, I have distanced myself from that persona. It resurfaces at times and I still have more to say on this matter. I will post more later. part of the reason for this blog is to not only to share my experiences and thoughts with others but also to help me learn about myself too. Lets learn some things together.