Shadows in the Playground: Dealing with Bullying as a Child
As the school bell rang on Halloween, a day typically filled with playful scares and the joyful buzz of candy exchanges, it ominously morphed into my own personal hell.
NOTE: This is the 5th edition of the Lifeline series. If you missed earlier issues, click here. Paid subscribers can listen to an audio version of this newsletter, and they will also find a printable 12-page shadow work exercise at the end of this post. If you’re not a paid subscriber but are curious about these perks, click here to learn the value of upgrading your subscription. If you view this post in an email, there is a good chance it will get cut off; thus, you won’t get the full experience. Don’t worry though; you can always view the full post online in the archives.
Thank you for being here!
My first major collision with the monster known as bullying happened when I was only six years old, at an age where the world still seemed a safe and friendly place.
I was in first grade, and I dared to defy a group of my peers who wanted me to become an accomplice in their petty crime spree. I was only partially swayed by their urging to shoplift, a decision that won me their scorn and ridicule.
My unwillingness to dive into their reckless world branded me as a "wimp," a label that singled me out for their relentless harassment.
This was my rude initiation into the cold reality of bullying.
The Tale Goes Like This
I was a six-year-old boy, tagging along with a bunch of school friends who were seasoned in the art of shoplifting. They, with an air of audacious mischief, loaded their pockets with stolen candies from the local store. I, on the other hand, was trembling with guilt and apprehension as I took a five-cent gum, my minor transgression dwarfed by their brazen acts. The guilt, however, consumed me so fiercely that I found myself returning to the store later that evening. I purchased four gums with a quarter, insisting the shopkeeper keep the change. The look of perplexity that crossed the shopkeeper's face mirrored my own inner turmoil – a young boy struggling to comprehend his own moral compass.
The Day That Changed Everything
As the school bell rang on Halloween, a day typically filled with playful scares and the joyful buzz of candy exchanges, it ominously morphed into my own personal hell. With youthful naivety and dressed in the devil's garb, I found myself stepping, unknowingly, into a viper's pit of veiled hostility.
A crowd of witches and superheroes - their costumes playful and non-threatening - bustled around, their innocent laughter a stark contrast to the storm brewing in my heart. And then, amidst the sea of harmless faces, my eyes locked onto a group all too familiar. They were the same boys involved in that shoplifting candy incident - individuals who I had once trusted as friends, only for them to morph into my relentless tormentors.
An icy dread crept into my veins as one of them, his eyes gleaming with malevolence, clenched his fist. A wave of foreboding swept over me just as his fist carved through the air, its destination set on me, the innocent devil caught in a cruel trick with no treat in sight.
The punch sent me sprawling onto the unforgiving ground in front of the school, triggering a chaos that still haunts my dreams. As I laid there, dazed and defenseless, they took turns. A flurry of kicks battered my body, their cruel laughter echoing in my ears.
Then came the coup de grace. One of them, with a vicious grin, wrenched my plastic pitchfork from my slackened grip. The world slowed as he raised it high above his head, my own prop now turned against me. With a savage force, he brought it down into my right eye.
The pain was a blinding, burning terror. Blood erupted from the wound, pooling around my head and seeping into the grooves of the playground. The world turned into a blur of red and black, my consciousness fading in and out. I remember the chilling disbelief that gripped me, a gut-wrenching dread that this was happening, to me, of all people.
Miraculously, my eye remained intact, a testament to resilience that I was yet to understand. However, the trauma that day inflicted left half my face a ghastly display of black and purple bruises.
When the police were called after the Halloween incident, I clung to the street code of silence, giving fake descriptions. A part of me was terrified of retaliation if I snitched, and so I chose silence, allowing the bullies to roam free.
As behavioral psychologist B.F. Skinner proposed, our actions, especially aggressive behavior, are often molded by our surroundings. For me, the school ground had become a breeding ground for hostility and pain, an environment that would forever taint my ability to trust.
In the aftermath of that horrendous Halloween, my faith in friendships, in people, shattered into a thousand pieces. The scars weren't just on my face, they ran deep, turning the task of trusting anyone into a challenge that seemed nearly impossible to overcome. The cruel encounter with bullying stripped me of the last vestiges of my childhood innocence.
The Many Masks of Bullying
Bullying, I soon discovered, wore many masks - verbal, physical, and emotional. Each day, my classmates and some neighborhood kids found new ways to torment me, their words and actions a cruel symphony designed to humiliate and belittle. My father, unable to provide any practical solutions, advised me to become a recluse, to avoid trouble. But where could one hide when the battlefield was everywhere?
School became a war zone. My grades dropped, doodles filled my notebooks, and I avoided friendships like the plague. The mere thought of going to school filled me with dread, but I kept on going. After all, what choice did a child have?
Leaving Them Confused
With the passage of time, I found solace in adopting a language of my own, a tongue laced with the sharp wit of sarcasm and the bittersweet notes of dark humor. My words morphed into my shield, a formidable fortress I erected to protect my vulnerabilities. I wielded these linguistic weapons with a deftness that was born out of necessity rather than choice.
I mastered the art of capturing their barbed insults, distilling them into a potent brew even more potent than their original venom, and then turning this weapon upon myself. This unexpected maneuver, this self-directed strike, often left them perplexed, their anticipated satisfaction stolen by my strange counter-attack. My response was far from a graceful ballet of diplomacy, but it was undeniably effective.
And so, I clung to this shield, my sword of sarcasm and armor of humor, as one would cling to a life raft in a tempestuous sea. It was not the most poetic or elegant solution, but it was my solution - my survival strategy amidst the relentless waves of verbal battles I found myself plunged into.
The Boiling Point
As the turbulence of high school years dawned upon me, the dormant seeds of bitterness and indignation began to flourish within me, translating into actions of retaliation. Revenge became my chosen language of communication, resulting in episodes of theft and confrontational encounters with those who had wronged me.
However, this cyclic dance of vengeance and aggression, far from bringing closure, only intensified my sense of loneliness. While I had managed to surround myself with a motley crew of "friends", I was essentially alone, ensnared within a bleak reality that seemed to draw parallels with a Thomas Hobbes story, "solitary, brutish, and short".
The days of childlike innocence were a far cry from my current predicament. The world around me seemed to have contracted, as though mirroring the narrowing confines of my own existence. I found myself yearning for the dreams I used to have, gazing at the city lights from the escarpment, dreaming of an elusive future. My reality had morphed into a constant reminder of my solitary journey, a journey that seemed more like a fight for survival in a world that appeared increasingly alien and hostile.
As Carl Jung once observed,
"The healthy man does not torture others - generally it is the tortured who turn into torturers."
Finding Refuge in Nature
Throughout my life, nature has been my sanctuary, my steadfast companion in times of both joy and despair. As a child, my bicycle was my trusty steed, leading me through the verdant wonder of woodland trails. The wild berries I picked along these routes weren't just fruits; they were tiny tokens of independence and adventure, mementos of blissful afternoons spent exploring the earth's treasures beneath the watchful eyes of towering trees.
As a teenager, my retreat was the escarpment's edge. From this perch, I could gaze upon the shimmering tapestry of city lights, each glimmer a story, a dream, a promise of what the future could hold. The whispering winds carried my aspirations out into the world, the sprawling urban landscape below a canvas for my unfolding destiny.
In adulthood, the melodious symphony of cascading waterfalls became my solace. Bathing in the waterfall's purifying mist, I could feel the negative ions reinvigorating my spirit, washing away the weariness of the world. The music of the wild - the hum of the wind, the chirping of the birds, the rustling of leaves - cradled my thoughts, providing a comforting backdrop as I plunged into introspective tranquility.
It was during these moments of communion with nature, during my mid-thirties, that I began my journey into shadow work journaling. Inspired by the teachings of Carl Jung and others, this practice beckoned me to traverse the lesser-known trails within my own psyche, to acknowledge and integrate the shadows cast by my fears, pains, and traumas.
In the embrace of nature, under the nurturing gaze of the sun or the comforting cloak of the moon, I confronted these shadows. The dew-kissed grass was my confessional, the rustling leaves my empathetic audience as I poured my darkest thoughts and deepest fears into my journal. This was my creative expression, my personal dialogue with the cosmos, my catharsis.
This process of self-exploration and acceptance, framed by the serenity of the natural world, became my resistance against the torment I had endured and my beacon of hope for a more harmonious future. Just as the forest accepts the fall of leaves or the river welcomes the rain, I learned to acknowledge my shadows as integral aspects of my being. This integration, this therapeutic ritual, inspired by the ebb and flow of the natural world, became my lifeline, the rhythm to which I danced my dance of self-discovery and healing.
Looking Back
Looking back now, it's clear how profoundly these experiences have shaped me. The negative effects are glaring: I have struggled with trust issues, found it challenging to form meaningful connections, and battled with anxiety. For the longest time, I was my own island, isolated and unapproachable.
Blessings in Disguise
Yet, there were some unexpected silver linings. The incessant bullying sparked in me an ability to introspect and delve deep into my mind, to question and understand human behavior. It brought out a resilience in me that I didn't know existed, and a sense of self-esteem that came from conquering my fears, one day at a time.
The hurt child within me has grown into a man who, although scarred, is determined to rise above his past. Every day, I strive to create a safe space for myself and others through my work. I share my journey, my stories, and my lessons, not only to heal myself but also to support others who might be experiencing the same. I've used my platform on TikTok to advocate against bullying and to raise awareness about its devastating impacts.
My experiences have taught me valuable lessons about human nature and resilience. As I dive deeper into the works of psychologists and philosophers such as Freud, Jung, Skinner, Adler, Piaget, Rogers, and others, I am better able to understand my past experiences and their influence on my present.
There are still days when I struggle with the ghosts of my past. But as I venture into the wilderness, pen down my thoughts, or address a camera, I am reminded of the strength within me. I have endured, and in many ways, I have triumphed.
If I could go back in time and speak to my younger self, the terrified first grader who was yet to face the harsh world, I would tell him,
"Not to let the actions of a small group of individuals sour your pursuit of fulfilling and enduring relationships throughout your life."
Moving Forward
As I look ahead, I know that my experiences with bullying have shaped my outlook on life, resilience, and self-esteem. They have made me super resilient with a strong self-esteem, but also socially awkward and anxious. I know that my worth isn't determined by someone else's pain or insecurity.
My advice to anyone who is being bullied: You are not alone, and your worth is not defined by the harsh words or actions of others. The storm might seem relentless, but remember, storms don't last forever.
Today, as an author and a student of life, I am working to turn my past into a source of strength and inspiration for others. I hope that by sharing my experiences, I can encourage others to confront their shadows, to embrace their authenticity, and to find the courage to rise above their circumstances.
Because no one should have to feel like a devil in a playground.
With Genuine Gratitude
A heartfelt thanks for dedicating your time to this edition of "Healing Thoughts."
Every member brings a unique and invaluable contribution to our collective journey, and we deeply appreciate and value your involvement.
Exclusive Perks for Premium Members
If you are a premium member, there is a special exercise related to this issue’s theme available for you below. It’s a way to express our gratitude for your consistent support and commitment to our community.
A Cordial Invitation to Our Free Subscribers
If you're benefiting from our free subscription and considering the advantages of becoming a premium member, we warmly invite you to examine the added benefits by clicking here.
Choosing a premium subscription provides access to a broader range of content, including exclusive issues, thorough exercises, and audio versions of all posts, along with many other perks.
If this issue resonates with you or you believe it can support others in their healing journeys, we encourage you to distribute it widely. Each act of sharing not only broadens our community's reach but also incorporates a variety of insights that contribute to the growth of our evolving community.
Tip: Sharing our material is a great way to earn complimentary access to our premium subscription. Interested in learning more? Click here to find out the specifics.
About the Author
A visionary artisan dedicated to unlocking the transformative magic within us all, Ryan is more than a beacon of hope or a catalyst for change; he is an architect of endless possibilities, etching his indelible mark across the canvas of human potential.
Shadow Work Exercise
Objective
To guide participants in revisiting and processing their childhood experiences with bullying. The aim is to understand the deep-seated emotions and beliefs formed during these times, foster self-compassion, and empower participants to heal and reclaim their personal narrative.
Instructions
Choose a calm, private setting where you can be undisturbed. Equip yourself with a journal or notebook and a pen. This exercise may bring up strong emotions, so ensure you approach each step with gentleness and self-understanding.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Healing Thoughts to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.