|
Weak or Stong?
by Vanessa Ferris Blood shot eyes, a crimson tear-stained face, trembling hands- this was the typical appearance of the innocent victim who is daily teased by classroom bullies. "What's wrong with you?" "Can't you take a joke?" "Why are you such a baby?" These hurtful words echoed throughout the classroom by fellow classmates. Their joking gestures later became a daily ritual of unending taunts and harassments. Their target: the weakest link. A bully purposely looks for someone who is isolated from the group only to deter others from his own self-esteem issues. She tried to hide the tears, to shrug off the effects of crude comments, but the inward pain always remained. Those malicious bullies would study her every move; they would watch and wait for the perfect time to strike. During lunch, she sat alone. Those other girls who despised her would sit at a nearby table and whisper lies about her. No, they would not accept her. When she was not looking, they would steal her food and lie about it later. Viciously, they would push unwanted scraps onto her chair, waiting for the moment she would sit down. Outbursts of laughter roared from this table of perpetrators because of the mess that the food left on the back of this poor girl's skirt. Humor is often used as a tactic to injure someone's self- esteem in the form of a joke. If emotional torture had not been enough, physical abuse soon followed. Both boys and girls would take turns humiliating her. While she was playing outside one day, a girl threw a ball of ice directly into her face. Although the sting of the ice and the force from the blow brought about a rush of pain, none of that measured up to how she must have felt inside. During class, the boys would throw paper wads, books, and pencils at her without the teachers taking notice. They would kick her chair to annoy her; still she did nothing. The girl who was the weakest link, who was daily belittled and humiliated, who cried nearly every night from all the hurt, was miserable. I was that girl. I grew up in Toledo, in a loving Christian home. I had attended a small Christian school since kindergarten. My first days in junior high school were awkward times. Everything had seemed disoriented. My friends were changing while I was slowing being kicked out of their groups. All the compliments that were given to me throughout the years, seemed to be all lies. I was mistreated in a way that made me feel ugly and unlovable. I had no true friends. Early adolescence is a serious time of development due to many social and environmental changes. Having friends and being a good friend were always important to me. In elementary school, everything had gone well. But when I stepped up to the big leagues, junior high, I had begun to experience a rapid downward spiral. The harmless jokes started when someone made a snide remark; a couple people laughed. I would try to just laugh it off, but the taunts escalated quickly. I would remain silent because I did not want to condescend to their level. The price to be popular may require to "squash" those on a lower level to rise above them to gain the satisfaction of a higher self-esteem and a greater worth in the social chain. I would cry almost every night. I finally told my parents; I wanted the answers to why I had to endure such torture. They wanted to speak to the bullies' parents, but I only knew it would make things worse for me at school. I wanted to tell someone how I felt, but I could not trust anyone. I had nowhere to turn. I could not take revenge, so my last and only resort was prayer. No matter how much I hurt inside, I prayed to God for each of my tormentors. Usually parents do not have the power to fix a bully situation. If peers and bystanders would take a stand against harassment, the perpetrator is more likely to step down from the defense. It began to seem as though everyone had turned against me. My parents had become so tired of hearing my complaints. My teachers had not noticed the division in the classrooms. My own siblings declared that I was too weak and sensitive, and that I had brought all my woes on myself. I had later discovered that my only "friends" were malicious backbiters, also. I had no one to turn to besides God. Because girls create a clever disguise to hide their hypocritical ways, a simple trustworthy friendship cannot always be trusted. I survived two long years of harassment. Things began to change in the ninth grade since some of the tormentors had moved on. It seemed as though things were turning around for me. There was a new student. She was a timid girl; I could tell that she was in need of friend. We quickly became attached to the hip. During our first two years in high school, my one loyal friend helped me get through those difficult times. She began to see the harassment. My freshman and sophomore years in high school invited many ups and downs, but my one loyal friend help me through those times. She carried me through each day. My friend sympathized and encouraged me with positive talks and godly advice. She had become my shoulder to cry on and a faithful partner in prayer. I still attend school with some of those classmates who caused me so much emotional pain. Even though they have never apologized or even realized how much suffering they had caused me, we all had moved on with our lives. I have forgiven them; we all get along now. The emotional pain still lingers, leaving painful scars from my past, but I do not dwell on those memories. I believe God sent me a friend to help strengthen me through those times. A word can hurt, actions do have consequences, but a wise choice of forgiveness surpasses all. Those who thought I was the weakest link, never realized that through those times, I had become the strongest. I am Vanessa Ferris an eighteen year old from Toledo, Ohio. I have been writing poetry and short stories since I was in 7th grade. My words is basically my soul on paper. I write about how I feel at the time. I am not afraid to write what I think. I believe in God as my Savior; I am not ashamed Article Source: http://www.faithwriters.com |