My Story

I was bullied as a child, and it's true what they say: that children who are bullied can grow up to face problems with depression and anxiety. They frequently find themselves in lower paying jobs. This is all true for me. I do not doubt that being bullied was one of the main causes of my AvPD and depression. It changed my life--for the worse, and at 50, I don't believe there's much I can do about it now.

When I was a kid, I pretty much looked like a stick with two eyes. My mother was a defeatist, that is to say she shared Homer Simpson's philosophy that "the first step toward failure is trying". The most vivid memories I have of my father involve him walking away from me into his "den" so he could be alone with his vodka. He never taught me how to catch a ball or throw a punch. Kindergarten was OK for me, as I was a bright, creative kid. But my parent's shortcoming did nothing to prepare me for what happened as soon as I started elementary school. Because of my appearance, I was a prime target for any kid who felt a need to flex his or her propensity for bullying. As an adult, I am exceedingly non-confrontational, and I suspect I was like that as a child as well. When the bullying began, I never fought back. I don't think I even knew I had the option. My first memory of it involved me wandering around the school grounds--I think it must have been just before or after the school day--when this kid came up to me and announced that this was HIS playground, and that I was subject to HIS rules. No problem, I remember thinking, you can have it. But it just snowballed from there. I don't remember many other details until things were out of control. Kids would knock me down in the halls for no reason. They would pick fights--I had no idea how to fight and no desire to learn. So I quickly developed a reputation as a good target. I never got beat up too bad because I was just so passive. I would just stand (or lie) there like I was catatonic. I don't think many of them knew how to deal with that. One kid constantly called me "the flea", thankfully it never caught on. KIds who saw me would invariably widen their eyes to mock the size of mine. If anybody remembers that old comic, I think it was "Dondi", well that's what I looked like. The turning point came when I was at a fair or a carnival with my family. A girl I had never seen before took one look at me and widened her eyes in that mocking way. I distinctly remember how much it hurt because she didn't even know me. She wasn't from my school so she was unaware of the invisible sign I seemed to be carrying that said "Hi! Pick in me!" What that meant to me was that I was safe nowhere. The whole world seemed out to get me. I was, and remain, an extremely sensitive person, and things finally took their toll. The depression began. I vowed to myself that I would become an island unto myself--speak to no one and avoid all eye contact. I became reclusive and spent all of my time inside. This went on until about sixth grade. I suppose I began to grow into my eyes, and I started hanging out with some of the arty/nerdy kids. This offered some refuge. Then, Junior High started. I lived in a big town where the elementary school kids were split into two school districts. I was from the north end of town which was a little more affluent. But in Junior high the kids from all the town districts spilled into one school. I suddenly had to face bigger, tougher kids from blue-collar homes. Adolescence set in and I began to wonder why I had no interest in girls. Nobody knew I was gay, but this made me feel 100% more vulnerable. The bullying continued. My depression worsened. One day I felt so bad I refused to speak to anyone--including teachers. I got sent to the office where I continued to remain mute. They sent me to the nurse and I cried, but still spoke not a word. I suppose this is how I ended up with my first psychiatrist, but I said literally nothing to him, either.
As High School drew near, my survival instinct kicked in. I just couldn't bear the bullying and pain anymore. I began to do push-ups, then to lift weights. A cousin introduced me to marijuana and I liked it. I began to hang out with the stoner kids, grasping desperately at anything that would make me cool. But the depression continued to worsen. My parents found out about the weed and that I was smoking cigarettes. Teen angst set in. I became a terror to my parents. More mistreatment from my peers. Horror at my "secret" attraction to other boys. My first suicide attempt was at fifteen. I swallowed a bottle of phenobarbital. I survived.
Next thing I know my parents tried to get me into teen rehab. This involved a meeting with a social worker who told my parents my problem wasn't drugs--it was depression. I ended up going into a psychiatric hospital in my sophomore year of high school. I was there two months. I still don't know how much it helped me with my depression, but I do know it was the beginning of the end of the bullying. When I returned to school, I told everyone i was at Jamesburg, which was a kind of reform school. None of the kids knew otherwise. This, coupled with the fact that I was known for hanging out with the "burnouts" and bad kids, did wonders to elevate my social status. I began experimenting with other drugs, cutting school, and robbing houses. Anything to erase the identity I had as a target for bullies. By my junior year, I had filled out physically. I began deceptively dating girls. I didn't know it then, at least I didn't consciously acknowledge it, but I had become somewhat popular. I continued with the drugs and house-robbing. I got in trouble a lot. In order to alleviate how screwed-up I was from all those years of bullying, I screwed myself up in other ways. But no matter how cool and tough I appeared, inside I was still that funny looking kid w/ stick with eyes. I was (and still am) super-sensitive and non-confrontational. For years after high school I continued to carry that fear that someone would pick on me. Even to this day, when I encounter aggression of any kind, I still feel that exact same hot panic in my gut I used to get whenever I was called names or pushed to the ground. That "vow of isolation" still holds, and has morphed into AvPD. I believe the depression caused by the bullying really took root, because I still have bouts of severe depression. My last suicide attempt was ten years ago. My OCD is so bad I'm on disability, but I don't think it was a result of bullying. I suspect I got it from that foul, vindictive monster I used to call "Mom".

Nowadays I can finally think back on some of my most nightmarish bullying experiences and not suddenly go all dark and depressed. I've even recently let go of most of my anger over it. But I still abuse drugs. Time has expunged my criminal record. But the damage from being bullied remains. As does the damage I did to myself in order to stop/deal with it.

This is a long post, and if you're still reading, thank you. Not sure what my point is, other than to share my story. Not really looking for advice. I believe the passage of time, some therapy, and a lot of introspection have pretty much helped me as much as anything can. But I must admit I am pretty bitter about it all. Those kids back then robbed me of my potential and compromised my ability to enjoy life to it's fullest. What bothers me most these days is I'll bet a lot of them are a whole lot less screwed up than I am now. I've become a depressed shut-in who can't even afford a pair of shoes.

Hi Marcus555,

Thank you for sharing your story. I really enjoyed your style of writing. I think you have a gift there! I agree that bullying leaves scars that never seem to go away, no matter how old you are. I am 45, and a lot of what you said really resonated with me. I too was diagnosed with AvPD and depression a few years ago, but I didn't link it to the bullying I received as a child, but to the bullying I received at my last job. After reading your story, I did some reflection and realized that it really does go back to when I was a child.
As an adult, I became a perfectionist at work, always working harder and longer than needed, always staying under the radar and never making waves. Now I see that this behavior was really a way to protect myself so that I didn't have to experience what I had as a child from those in a position of power. For the most part, this kept me safe, but not always. At my last job, I worked for a true sociopath who made my life hell. I went through all the proper channels and spoke to HR about his behavior, but at the end of the day, he was more important to the company than I was. After months of insomnia, I couldn't take it anymore and had to quit, even though I was the only one supporting our family at the time (my husband was laid off 6 months prior).
After I quit, I started becoming a recluse, afraid to leave the house, afraid to talk to anyone I didn't know...and even people I did know. My husband finally found work and I continued to stay home and stay safe. The only time I would venture out was on play dates for my young daughter where I was forced to interact with other mom's and make uncomfortable small talk.
Then something happened to me about 6 months ago. I started researching bullying, because I was tired of crying over it. Every time I thought about my experience or read about another child's, I would loose it and tears would just pour out of me. The more I researched, the more empowered I felt. I knew there had to be a way to stop this...whether through a bully prevention program or something else. I have a post out there, I don't know if you saw it, but an idea I am researching is a bully-free school. I don't know if that is the answer, but it feels right.
As far as my AvPD and depression. I take medication, a very low dose of celexa (5mg) which helps me sleep at night, but what really helps me is doing something that is meaningful to me.

What's meaningful to you? We all need to be inspired....

Hi, start by telling the short version of my story, because it feels good and to make a understanding of where the Words come from. I'm from Sweden, and when I was around 7years old we mover to a new city. And I got bullied after the few first Days, because of the way I talked, my front teeths. In contrast to you I have Always been very strong for my age, everytime someone annoyed me or pushed me I got crazy and attacked. This continued for about 5-6years. But as the time Went, I began to hold back on my anger. At the age 14, we moved again to Another Place. This time it was a VERY small village populated by maybe 2000 people. After the 1 week I got in trouble, and then it was with EVERYONE. I mean seriously, everytime I stood up for my self saying something cocky, they would all work together trying to defeat me. There could be 20-30 people standing outside the school waiting for ME to end my class. This continued for 2 years, and I never felt safe a single day. I NEVER fought back, only with Words when they tried to offend me. I got beaten many times (never very hard), but it has made a big mark on my personality today. I'm non-conflict, and I'm paranoid with an extremely low self-esteem. Today I'm 20, and I'm fighting this $#%^.

Anyway, I don't know about you, but as I see it we have to fight our fears. I learned to hold back on my agressivity, and today I wish that I hadn't. I feel that I have to express my feelings and without caring what other people Think. It's HARD, but I try to do it at home now, just going bat $#%^ crazy hitting a pillow or whatever, it feels better. And it actually is helping me in my everyday Life when someone is trying to push me around, because I have explored the anger inside of me and instead of getting depressed when someone pushes me around, I feel more angry inside. EVEN if I don't express it yet, I feel that it's a good start.
I see it that it's just a matter of practise. I have to know what makes me angry, and know what way I wish to react in sertain situations, in order to slowly teach my self to act that way.

I'm thinking, NEVER GIVE UP, and I hope you will feel the same. Find your problem, and try to learn how to find a sulution. You have to know what way you want to react, Before you react
Fears sucks, that's why you, me and everyone els in here must face them and beat the $#%^ out of them, hehe

Trust me, I feel bad inside. But I'm on my way, and I hope that I will Winn in the end. Just nevergive up, Always try, and try and try. Giving up is to die inside. Stay strong!