Bullying, My Experience and the Effect It's Had

I just wanted to get this out. I've been holding it in so long but I want to get it out.

I was happy in my first few years of childhood. Pre-school went great, I had amazing friends. Or at least I thought they were amazing. You see, when I started school when I was four years old, my first mistake was playing with the boys instead of the girls. I played Ninja Turtles and Thunderbirds and Transformers. There were days I would want to play mummies and daddies like the other girls, but they all turned their backs on me and walked away. Of course, I didn't realise back then just what else would happen. I didn't see that as a nasty thing, I didn't understand.

Shortly after starting my junior school when I was seven, somebody held their leg out and tripped me over. I broke my arm. Nobody believed me when I said they had done it on purpose. Throughout the next four years of junior school, my things were stolen and I was pushed about. I was unwanted, I was called names. It still hadn't really all sunk in.

Then came secondary school. I was alone, in a school with more than 1000 students aged 11 to 16. The problems started pretty much immediately. Firstly with a boy in my tutor group. He would yell at me, male fun of me, call me names. He did it regardless of a teacher being there. The teachers straight up saw it happening and did absolutely nothing. The other kids, if there was a dick drawn onto one of the chairs they'd make sure I got that chair and spend the entire hour making fun of me.

After that hour, I'd be singled out in the courtyard. Nobody would talk to me, if I went to talk to someone, they turned away. The name calling got worse, the threats got worse. My work was stolen, my hair was pulled, I was spat at. Eventually, I managed to get moved to another tutor group to be with the girls I went to infant and junior school with. They couldn't wait to get their claws into me. They invited me to sleepovers so they could torture me. Without realising their parents didn't know I mentioned the smoking of cigarettes was making my asthma bad and I couldnt stay so I inadvertedly got them in trouble for smoking. Looking back I think they did it as a ploy. They knew I had asthma, and pusposely smoked loads and blew it in my face. The name calling once again got worse. Threats turned into beatings, they stole my clothes and put them in the showers so I couldn't change after PE. The fire alarm went off once. I was still in the school. I went to the history room to put something down I'd been sent to get. I found my stuff had been thrown across the room, spat on and torn. I quickly left though as the fire alarm was going off after all. But by the time I got outside, everyone was on their way back, the teachers hadn't realised I was still in the building so had someone answered for me? Had they basically decided I could stay in the building and burn if it had been real?

I lost it, I pushed over the girl who was the ringleader of it all. I got beat up on the spot. I got the blame for that. That was the first time I ran away from the school. However, my house was literally the end house across the road.

Our house was always graffittied on, the cars were always vandalised. Gangs of kids, up to 50 of them, waited on our street outside, watching the house. If I stepped foot outside, even with a parent, they launched attacks. The neighbours were sickened by it. They complained to the school and police but nothing was done. One night, my dad caught one of them trying to break in, that one had a knife. Still the police did nothing. Said they couldn't do anything until it happened.

Every weekday I carried on going to hell. I never slept. I sat up watching game shows from the 70s and 80s all night to distract me. I would go downstairs at 6 in the morning. Fed the dogs, watched tv down there, got ready for school, then left at about half 8. Across the road, the road entrance to the school had these big black gates. That's not where I went in, although sometimes I did avoid shit by going in that way. Usually though, I crossed the road and crossed over the vridge over the brook that ran alongside tge road, then walked up the path a little way, up to the non gated walking entrance. To the left the grey chain link fenced with a painted green metal frame was on full show, to the right it was obscured by hedges and trees. The pavement was white-ish concrete, with red brick lines every five feet or so. Either side of the path was grass and rocks lined the way. I can remember each and every single rock and every position they were in. I can remember the entire school so vividly, even down to the frog that had been run over in the car park. There was a little memorial garden just outside the main entrance. That wasn't where I had to go in. I had to go to the right, towards the courtyard, past the canteen, then turn left and go straight down to a set of double doors. Go in them, then up the stairs. My tutor room was the first classroom to my left.

Hell was what waited for me in there.

I had lost count of the amount of times my dad tried to talk to the head of year and head teacher. Each time he got told he needed an appointment. I ran away from school so many more times, on a daily basis. Everything continued to get worse. More veatings, more hair pulling, more thinks stolen, more name calling, more fun making, more kids ouside the house... And outside the dance studio I went to.

Eventually my dad called the ringleader's mum and said why dont we all meet up at the school and talk about it. He made sure to have witnesses.

I thought from then it would be sorted. Oh how wrong I was.

When I got to school the next day, I got called out of the class. The ringleaders mum had called the school to say my dad was threatening her and that I was bullying her daughter... So they believed them. Didnt believe me but believed them.

They really went at me but I wouldn't have it. I went and got my bag, and went home. I called my dad at work. Usually I called my mum. But for some reason this time I wanted my dad. BMW in Oxford said nobody of his name worked there and I broke down. Then minutes later my dad callex, he told me that for security reasons they had to say that. I told him what was going in and he got back from Oxford in record time. He got me, took me back to the school. He wanted to see the head teacher but wasnt allowed. They said he wasnt busy but my dad needed an appointment. They called the head of my year. He and my dad went off to talk while I sat in reception. Again I can remember reception so clearly, but I won't go into that. What I will tell you is that during the time I was there, the head teacher came downstairs. He saw me and asked "What are you doing there?" I told him that I had run away and come back. He said "Did you remember to sign out then in again?"

"I ran away from school, I've just been brought back." I told him.

His reaction: "Oh that's okay then."

Then he walked off.

I ran away again immediately. Called my mum, told her dad was at the school. She came home and took me back. Then lunch time that day, they took me into a room and sat me down, they told me i was going to write formal apologies to every single person I'd affected. They left then and actually locked the door. Still, it was the ground floor, room had a window, I was gone.

I called mum as soon as I got home, and she came back, i was in the middle of a complete break down. I was screaming, shouting, I'd hit my head til it bled. She took me to the family doctor who was fully booked but she saaid what was going on, the receptionists spoke to him and he saw me straight away. He told me that medically he wasnt allowed to use the term nervous breakdown. But that's what I'd had. There was no serious head damage. I was released into the care of my parents, who chose not to treat me for depression or get me any form of counselling.

I was off school for six months. When I went back it was to a different school but the kids were still outside the house and the new school wasn't far enough away. The bullying started up again. Only this time, I had a tiny group of friends, and the majority of students refused to pick on me. Still it was too little too late. I tried to jump out of a third floor window, and I overdosed. Still, my parents didnt seek me any help.

I went on to college. Did my first year, really struggled but oh well, I had one friend. However it was too much like school. I broke down again. O stopped going. I showed up when i felt like it. How I passed that year I dont know. Then a month into the second year I was on the brink of suicide again. I dropped out. Meaning I would be the first person in my family not to go to Oxford Uni.

We'd moved house by now, to a tiny town in the cotswold, partway between the town I called and still call hell, and the place I am truly from, Oxford. Its where my dads from, where his family are from. I am an Oxford girl.

I spent the next few years travelling around, and then finally in 2006 i got a job in an extremely well known theme park. And I excelled at the job. I got promoted in three months, I loved it. However I had gotten with a guy who fell into alcoholism, and was abusive. To get out of there meant having to leave my beloved job. His mother brought me back to my family.

I first got help for depression in 2006 btw, I forgot to mention that. It was 2007 when I had to leave my job. I found out I was pregnant. The abusive father told me to kill it and never contact him again. Legally he is not allowed to come anywhere near me and MY son. My son is the spitting image of me, our baby photos are identical.

Anyway getting back on topic. I carried on getting help for "depression" but no counselling or courses, or anti-depressants were helping.

Then my son started school. All of a sudden everyrhing flared back up. I wouldn't allow my son to see it but I was having panic attacks, heart palpatations, chest pains, not eating not sleeping, it was awful. July this year, I saw a different doctor, a newer doctor. Straight away he pinpointed what was going on, why nothing was working. Because I wasn't depressed. I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and a severe phobia of schools.

He sent me to a male counsellor eho was ex military. Straight away he referred me to more intense care. I got put on an outpatient program. I did six weeks psycho therapy and two weeks ago I started an even more intense course that is bringing everyrhing up to the surface. It's awful. I dont eat well, I dont sleep well, I've reacted bad to just about every pill so now cant take any. But I know that in order to get better all of this has to come out. I have to relive it in order to get better. If I keep it bottled its not going to be good in the long run.

My son is my rock. He is my sole reason for being alive. I live for him, I love him. Every single professional I have seen have said the same thing, my love for him is to be envied. My current psychologist told me that the experience I've been through, has made me a better mum, and toold me to keep my head up because it shows.

My son is five now. Hes in his second year of school, he struggles academically. But he is full of imagination, full of love, full of creativity. He plays guitar and keyboard, even speaks french. He dances, acts, puts on puppet shows, writes little songs, is obsessed with showmen. Yet I fear for his future.

I aim to move to a place called Weymouth. It is the one place in this world that I am happy and confident. I would have no problem trusting the schools there. Most of all I'd be happy. Everone knows how I feel about the place and hopefully before JJ is eight we're moving there rather than just going to see friends on visits.

I just wanted to post this because I'm fed up of holding it all in. For some reason I just wanted to get it all out.

I would also like to add that I was born Rachel Ann Hunt. Before this year is out I shall officially be Rae Hunt. Because thanks to the bullies, Rachel was afraid to be Rachel. She became, well, she's not the real me. Through Rae, well I found a way to be the real me.

Thanks for listening to my mad going on. I just wanted to get it out there.