I was bullied when I was about 12 and in the 7th grade. I remember when it started. I had gotten some new clothes, a "Betty Boop" shirt, elephant bell jeans and my first pair of heels, wedgies. We lived in Southeast San Jose, not far from the Santa Clara County Fairgrounds and it was not the best neighborhood. I was walking from the school bus when the 'mean girls' struck. These girls terrorized those they disliked (or felt threatened by) they certainly did not like a little blonde girl at this particular school. I didn't fit in. They attacked another girl after school by holding her down and shaving off her eyebrows. I was terrified when they set me in their sights the day I wore my new clothes. They threw rocks at me , laughing while giving me menacing looks and threatening me. I once even walked the 3 miles home rather then endure the bus ride and subsequent walk home being menaced by these girls. They called me terrible names I was just a young girl desperately trying to fit in and stay off the radar. I begged my Mom to drive me to school and she did, but she never knew the extent of my torment. I was too humiliated and scared to tell her. I somehow felt I was responsible for my plight (kids seem to think that if bad things happen to them, they must be a bad person or have done something bad to deserve it) and that pretending all was OK was the best way to cope. Things were a lot different in the seventies and ratting would only make things worse. There were a lot of older teens in the place we lived and as I was becoming a young lady, boys were noticing me , which angered the girls in the crowd so they too began to menace me. I remember turning to Christ and being baptized. Not long after we moved away to Blossom Valley and my life changed for the better, the first person I met was my lifelong best girlfriend. I still had a lot of challenges and definitely caused my share of trouble. Those years were some of the finest of my life. The things we do and say to others can really do damage. I can't recall what I ate for dinner a month ago, but I can recall those words and how they made me feel to this day and it has been almost forty years ago. That's the kind of impact our words can have on another person's life, it can wound and break a child's spirit. It was years before I was able to understand it was not my fault. The bible says we will give an account for every idle word we speak. I want to make sure that our son never has to endure this kind of pain.
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