Memoirs of a Bullied Kid

This article means a great deal to me. It's good to see I wasn't alone. I was lucky in high school, because our school wrestling coach saw the rage I carried and convinced me to come out for the team. I lost 30 lbs the first year and got the skills to defend myself. Because I was just a weird guy, I still was a target, but I could protect myself and my friends who were also targets.

I still carry it like a massive chip on my shoulder. I feel that it's the reason I've driven forward into endeavors with intensity. It's made me who I am today; but I still can't forgive the kids (and teachers) who made my life a hell, also in 5th grade.

When I see a picture of myself as a little kid (>4 years) I get really sad for the life that kid will have a few years after taking it. That's why I bust my tail - to tell my little 4 year old self that it's worth it.

You weren't alone - I was bullied, as was my close family. Unlike you, it ended earlier but only because the teachers finally realized how bad it had gotten.

I disagree with his idea that those who are bullied needs to learn that they are loved though - I never for a moment had any doubts about my parents feelings for me, but that didn't help me end it. I have even less sympathy for the idea of telling bullies that you love them.

Bullying will stop the day you hit back, they day you show them that you are no longer a safe target - one way or the other (hint it has to show them that _they_ are the small, weak person). Even showing you are under the protection of somebody more powerful (used that trick in kindergarden) will only work for so long.

I remember being in these spots. Growing up different isn't fun. For me, I just didn't care that much about the things other kids valued. I wanted to build things, read, learn about science and do experiments. For whatever reason, the fact that I didn't care about sports at all made me as good as an alien to my peers.

The fact that my mom is a lesbian, and that I didn't know any reason why anyone should have a problem with that, didn't help things, either.

So, there were school hiking trips where I had prickly pear cactus fruit pelted at me. I was pantsed at recess a couple of times. Once a little knife was held on me. More often than not, people just said unkind things to me. Getting into middle school was worse, just as the author said. There's some special vein of cruelty that emerges at that age.

I happened to get lucky. Teachers noticed me, convinced my mom to let me be tested for special classes, and I found friendship in people who were more like me. At home, having a computer and learning about all I could do with it gave me extraordinary self worth that would have been wrung out of me at school.

Eventually I learned to relate to people. By high school, I even got along with the jocks and other popular types, though by choice I never fell into any specific group.

Looking back, the author is right. I had it bad but my bullies had it worse. My parents, at least, loved and prioritized me. I can't imagine the miserable home lives these many of these kids must have had. (edit: Although, giving it some thought, I don't know how much my kindness would have earned me from these kids.)

All I know is this: my life was saved – saved – by technology. I'm not sure I'd have made it into adulthood without all the growth I gained thanks to my good ol' Performa 6100.

"Hitting Back"

This only works in the burbs or small towns. And only if you're white or non-gangster asian.

In city schools when you hit back, you get ambushed and your ass kicked, and the cycle continues until someone ends up in the hospital or dead.

PG's essay along similar lines: http://www.paulgraham.com/nerds.html