Throughout the whole of my childhood, I was intensely bullied. To a certain extent, this has continued within parts of adulthood, too. I might have briefly mentioned that here before, but it’s something that I wanted to discuss further. See, I don’t find it especially easy to talk about, since the emotional scars still affect me today. This feels important to be truthful about, in the knowledge that my peers have probably never reflected upon their own behaviour before, nor considered that their attitudes were deeply problematic. Get ready for an education, bitches.
If I think about it for too long, I’ll probably have a panic attack. Still, there is one particular memory that I have never been able to shake, which occurred during a time when things were particularly difficult at secondary school. My mum had arranged a meeting to create an action plan with the relevant staff, in order to try and protect me from all that had been happening. However, she was simply told that it would be better if I left the mainstream education system, instead moving to somewhere with other people like me. In truth, I did consider this as an option for a while, which just makes me impossibly angry now. Of course, the implication is that I’m doing something wrong by daring to exist within a space where I am so obviously different. Almost as if it’s something to both expect and learn to live with. I mean, I’d prefer it if everyone else could just stop being horrible, but okay.
For several years, I had a wheelchair with a switch at the back, which would turn the controls to manual. On more than one occasion, some lovely people did this and literally just left me sitting in the middle of the road. That’s a whole new level of powerlessness, you know? It hurts me to know that they found it so hilarious. Within all of this, it felt like I was running out of options, so I started offering people money in exchange for their friendship. Looking back, I know that this was not real or healthy, but I was so desperate to feel safe. I thought that this would finally turn me into a cool person to hang out with, though it did nothing but ensure that my vulnerability was fully exploited. Anything to survive, I guess.
Thankfully, I have finally found my people. It has only taken me twenty-three whole years, whilst also embracing the idea that internet friends are real friends. Finding it hard to platonically connect with people in the area does not make me a loser — it’s actually sort of beautiful. I still want everyone to like me, of course. I mean, if they don’t like me, then I find it very easy to become convinced that I’m just a terrible person. With that said, I am learning that liking yourself is a much more liberating goal. Reminder: if my disability makes you uncomfortable, that’s really not my problem. Have fun watching me live my best life all the same.
To the few people that were consistently and unapologetically kind to me back in those days, I appreciate you. You deserve nothing but happiness. To Australian Hannah, you are going to change the world and I can’t wait to see it. xxx
PS: if you bullied me, I do not forgive you. But I am healing. That journey is not defined by you anymore, no offence.