Oh, I sense this is going to be long.
CV
Being-bullied level: OUTRAGEOUS
I was born in a town with barely 15.000 inhabitants, and I turned out to be a little bit smarter than the average kid (IQ 136 if it means anything to you.. it means nothing to me, so), but I also was quirky. I was a mix of extraversion and introversion. I liked spending time alone building castles with Legos, drawing doodles with crayon on the walls, climbing trees to read on them. "Why do I have to go to kindergarten? I have toys and crayons and China ink and pencils and books and trees here. I already know how to read. There I only find guys hitting each other with wood blocks!". But, some other times I liked participating in school acts, take the microphone and read stories or tell jokes in front of 200 hundred people, ask awkward and undiplomatic questions to strangers, etc. I developed my own interest in knowledge and this bohemian style of considering and finding art in tiny or unnoticed things.
I don't know the reason, but me being "smarter" than the rest wasn't liked. At all.
(8 y.o. me), as I had 10/10 average and I was a little weird (asking existential questions, know a lot of maths, reading "adult" books (meaning the novels I read now), poetry, etc) compared to the guys , that were STILL hitting each other with wooden blocks, someone accused my parents of forcing me to study and be "excellent" and hitting me to do and be so. Which wasn't at all true because back then they were very kind and endearing folks.. So a social worker came home and stayed with us for a while. She made my mother throw away in front of me my birthday cake because "cooking it instead of buying it is a sign of overprotective parenting". Really?
They soon found out that I was just a little quirky and that the denounciation wasn't true. But it set a precedent, and if there was another accusation, no matter if true or false, me and my baby brother would end up in a foster home, so I started failing tests on purpose, and not talking to anyone, so they wouldn't hold any kind of grudge. My mother became paranoid, and my dad became diabetic from too much stress. I also had to drop some activities, so I could spend more time doing what other kids did: hitting myself with wooden blocks and picking my nose, I guess, haha If I accidentally said something considered "great" by others, my classmates and teacher would torture me: "know-it-all", "we know you know, so stop being damn selfish and let others participate", they would kick my dog or throw stones to my house roof.
When I finished primary school, I couldn't talk. Not only I couldn't ask for something in a shop, I couldn't think of ideas to say either, as I had been trying to dumb myself down to be unnoticed. I guess it became a habit.
At some point, my mother joined their army too. So I was being bombed at school and at home too. The only way to forget that daily ammunition was doing my activities. I could focus on how to do things right and not in what was happening "out there".
The first problem I mentioned never really ended, and it got entangled with other problems. I had never stopped being treated like garbage. Neither at school nor home. And I emphasize "home", because the fact of me having a boyfriend and stepping out of the cave -which should have brought joy or hope- gave me more trouble. Not only I discovered my mother read my messages, mails, checked phone calls and once read my whole chats once I forgot to log off the 'ole good MSN (which caused me to shout at her, and she shout at me and I ended up sleeping outside, just like the time my grandfather died of multiple heart attacks and, trying to be supportive, I told my mother I was happy he was dead because he wouldn't suffer anymore); but also I had to tolerate a paranoid mother that grabbed my hair to get me in the car so she could take me to the hospital so doctors would tell her if I had had sex with my boyfriend (remember the denouncement? She became what she had tried so hard to prove she wasn't!). What happened? I started screaming in the street so she would let go, but she pulled even harder, so I turned and slapped her. So we came inside the house and started shouting to each other until my father came in, and seeing all the mess, because of his diabetes, the sugar level started to rise, and when that happens he gets violent. But he used to shout only. This time that didn't happen because my mother started crying like a bitch and told him ONLY that I slapped her, so he slapped me and told me to stay quiet, but that's something I CAN'T do, so I tried to tell him what really happened, but he "kneed" me in the stomach "so I would REALLY shut up". So, when I could finally breathe again and my father had calmed down, I told them that if they ever touched me again or tried to drag me somewhere I didn't want to go, or step in my private things, I would call social services and tell them and invent things, and yes, was only going to have 10 months of foster care, but they would go to jail. Then, because of all the shouting, a neighbour called social services anyway and they had an interview with me, I said nothing happened, but told my parents I asked the woman for her number so I could call her, and they freaked out and left me alone for the rest of the year.
To conclude the story in my hometown, I'll mention the last significant event of high school. "Wasn't over yet?" No!
5th year. One of the girls from school found out I could dance ballet so she asked me to dance. I was happy because somebody was interested in what I did, so I danced. That very afternoon in the P.E. class (girls play volleyball and handball), we were playing handball. I don't know if you know the game, but when you throw the ball to score, you have to do what is called a "suspended jump" (or whatever translation it has), which consists of giving three steps, the third being pushing back with the free leg and jumping at the same time, so it's like you're suspended in the air. The very same girl that had asked me to dance, stepped on my foot while I was jumping. An I pulled every single muscle from my leg and now it doesn't work very well. I had black leg, 6 months of rehab, no more dancing because the leg can't tolerate certain movements, depression, hard medication that made me sick. But this what I like about myself (probably the only thing): despite being weird brought me all sort of problems, I still want to be weird. Let me rephrase that. The more life hits me for being weird, the more I'll want to be weird and be me and do something productive out of my weirdness.
Then I moved 1000 miles away and I'm living happily with myself.
In some way I'm thankful because it helped me to mold my temperament, my character, and establish my priorities in life. I'm not scared to talk back to anyone and my evident mysanthropic/sarcastic comments keep people in their place. I learnt that I don't have to care about what other people say/think/do. I live my life ignoring the rest, except if it benefits me. I never stopped knowing who I was and what I was capable of. And I'm done with the Hollywoodesque pep talk.