My teenage years in school
I totally agree that Tyler's video is terrific, and hopefully will be viewed by many many young people going through the same type of harassment and humiliation, and that his positive message that "it gets better" will actually save lives.
I always knew that I was gay, throughout school, but I was not considered a "sissy", but on a few occasions in both junior high school an in high school, other kid's who I had been friends with, must have noticed me staring at their body in gym class, or otherwise could tell that I was gay, and on two or three occasions, I was called a fag and or queer. So even on a much smaller basis, I can relate to how it feels. Great job Tyler, and thank you Tampa for posting this very important video.
Dear Mikeyank,
I spent most of my middle school and high school years being hated, called every name in the book even before I knew what they meant, had my name scribbled all over the bathroom walls in high school, so much so that the Dean of Students in my Catholic High School called me into his office not to admonish me but to have some understanding as I had to assume the posture fo a "social isolate through these painful junior and high school years to survive". I mastered the art of being invisible most of the time, but whenever there was a bullie wanting a target, I was always easily found. I stuck out like a sore thumb. I refused to have any part in athletics because I blamed the football culture and all of sports for making my life a living hell.
My home had a fifty foot wide front porch and it was used for throwing rotten eggs at my house repeatedly and shattering a window pane on a frequent basis. A heavy glass bottle was thrown at my house and broke through one of the panels on the solid wood front door. We had a gas lantern in the front yard leading to our front porch and it was routinely targeted with the glass panels smashed and the natural gas flame extinguished. Twice I had a car speed up and just missed me by a question of mere inches when walking home from school. I will forever remember the gust of wind engulfing me as it sped by just barely missing me while screaming, laughing, and shouting hateful things at me. The same person driving with a car full of guys did it twice in one day and followed me to my home. I had to dart through stranger's yards until I finally reached my house safely.
Not even counting all the verbal and physical threats I routinely took at school between class and during lunch, I always refused to fight back and turned my back and walked away. Sometimes they were just waiting at each of the exits from school to jump on me when they had the chance.
I spent all my teenage years constantly asking myself what I had done to deserve all of this? I stuck to myself and avoided from bothering anyone. Yet, it came anyway because I was an easy target. I hated going to school, especially on the days when we had PE and I would be in the dressing room with minimal supervision from the coach. On PE day, I walked to school as if I was about to face my execution.
I went through high school wishing I was dead. My school work suffered because I didn't want to be singled out by praise. By the time I left high school, I was convinced that asking someone, anyone to be my friend was simply too much to expect as it came at too high a price. I fwas convinced that I was the most hated person in my school, and only for the unforgiveable crime of being different.
I kept much of what had gone on in school to myself. My father died from leukemia when I was finishing the 9th grade. My mother, as a consequence of all this bullying, was constantly asking me to tell her about what was going on. And, in typical teenage fashion, I kept all but what she had to know about to myself. I never complained to the Dean of Students or anybody that could have had my best interest at heart.
Because of all this accumulated frustration, I took out my anger on my mother, who had no reason to deserve this treatment from anybody, much less from me. It is called displaced hostility (anger). She was too convenient and I was too stupid to know how to get a handle on my situation otherwise without verbally abusing her. After I frequently exploded at home, I always told her that I wasn't mad with her, only mad at myself. But hurt is hurt. And, when you have no place to hide, you have no place to hide!
In keeping with the theme of this video, "It Only Gets Better", I began a new life when I reported to college 150 miles away and learned that people could like me afterall. I learned to make real friends. I learned that I was not the lowest form of life, after all! And, I learned that I could be loved by others outside of my own family. Had I not gone to college and developed socially, I could have easily become some sociopathic mass-murderer, I guess. Thank god I did not have access to guns.
While in college, I became turned on about "social responsibility". Yes, social responsibility in the raucous/revolutionary '60's and '70's,
I left college life with the understanding that people are the only thing that makes life worth living and that I wanted to be of help to others. So, following my graduation from college, I became a high school counselor in public schools for the next 36 years contributing to helping others have a more satisfying and fulfilling life.
That is as honest an accounting as I am capable of giving,
Sincerely,
Stimpy
must be that private avatar...]
