All this week, YakkityYaks will be joining with past and present Reality TV stars and fans just like you in honor of Anti-Bullying Week. We will be featuring stories from Reality TV personalities, members in our YakkityYaks forum, and fans from Twitter and Facebook. In an effort to join forces and increase awareness, we encourage you to share these stories with your friends and family and encourage continuous efforts to make a difference! We all are capable and we just hope that this motivates and encourages each and every one of us to take a stand and put a stop to bullying once and for all. YakkityYaks, don’t talk smack!
Read on below for two personal accounts from fans on Twitter & Facebook who felt so moved to submit their own personal and touching stories, in addition to all of our other coverage today. Names have been changed to protect identities, but the stories are straight from the heart and unedited.
If you are interested in participating in our anti-bullying initiative by sharing your story, please contact JDMontgomery@yakkityyaks.com or ShellyBB13@me.com (Big Brother’s Shelly). Each and every story can bring about great change.
We also want to announce an exciting addition to our special features this week. Everyone who submits a story will be eligible to win a phone call from a reality TV personality!
I will try to make a long story short as not to bore you with the uncomfortable details.
It really started in middle school. Sixth grade. Rude comments, dirty looks, snide remarks. I thought it was bad until I started high school. Then I prayed to go back to middle school. Middle school was hell and high school was worse. I remember on incident that is forever burned into my memory. I was walking down the hallway to class past “the popular group” and I swear all I could do was close my eyes and pray that day would be different. Nope. As I walked passed one guy stepped in front of me, so I stepped to the side and he did too. He knocked my books out of my hands and shoved me into a locker. Now, keep in mind this was my sophomore year and I’d been dealing with their crap for four and a half years already. I was pretty thick skinned by then. I picked up by books and went on my way without a tear or a word. They laughed, of course. I didn’t have friends, I had a few people I talked to in school, but nobody outside of school.
I didn’t care back then because everyone I had come in contact with was disrespectful to me, so I assumed everyone was like that. I didn’t care to have anyone to hang out with in fear they would only treat me the same way everyone else did.
I spent my time sitting a home, slowly distancing myself from my family and becoming a person I never imagined I would be. I slowly slipped into a depression that consumed every aspect of my life. My grades slipped, my teachers noticed something was different, but I, of course, said everything was fine when I was asked. My relationship with my parents was slipping away and I had minimal contact with them and my brothers. I got to the point where I didn’t care about anything. At that point in my life I knew exactly how a person feels just seconds before finally taking their life. I didn’t care if I lived or died, and I felt as though nobody else cared either. I remember sitting and making a list of who would care… I never finished it because I never wrote one name down. I felt that I pushed everyone away enough that they wouldn’t care if I was there or not.
It continue he’d even after I graduated. Adults aren’t always nice either. And then. It hit me one day. I was done. I was done letting everyone else run my life. I was done accepting those looks and comments from people who didn’t even know me. I was done accepting that I was less than worth it. I was done living my life in fear, fear of others and myself.
That’s the day I became a b*tch. That’s the day I stood up for myself. That’s the day I took my life back.
I’m now twenty five. Don’t get me wrong, there are still nights I cry myself to sleep because someone said something that hurt my feelings and it took me right back to high school, but I wake up in the morning knowing that I am worth it and I won’t be taking crap from anyone. I refuse to let others run my life with hatred.
People often joke about my “obsession” with my music. Music saved my life. And I don’t say that lightly. I say that honestly and I mean that with everything I have in me. Music became my escape from reality. I started listening, really listening to the songs and realizing, “Hey, the ‘person’ in the song got through that issue, so can I!” And still to this day, it’s my escape.
I know I said I was going to keep this short, but I failed. I hope it’s the kind of thing you were looking for and that my story helps someone else realize they they too can get through it.
I just want to be able to give someone else hope… hope for the future. I want someone to know that things can get better, but they have got to regain control of their life. I want at least one person to know that there really is someone that understands, that’s been there and that there are ways away from it.
One thing I encourage people to do now is tell someone. I pray that each child in that situation tells someone, anyone they trust (although when going through that, trust is a HUGE issue.) I encourage kids to find a teacher, parent, counselor, anyone they can tell. I didn’t tell anyone. Not one single person until a few months ago. Even after so many years, it was the hardest thing to do.
Love and hugs to you.
Hi, my name is Alexis and I’ve been bullied. In elementary school, it was just minor things like having glasses and not having the “coolest” clothing and the way I walk. In fourth grade, two girls named Amanda and Nikki were the real tormentors. They got their friends on it and tried to get me in trouble by pushing me towards the teachers cars (never did get in trouble). Amanda would say stupid things like “I looked in her house and she was eating. (Guess I was a bit heavier than the other girls) In the African American community, hair is a very big thing. “Good hair” is long and silky. Mine wasn’t. Mine was short and short hair is considered “bald” to a lot of people, so I was often called bald.
Sixth grade came and I entered complete hell. Everyday was torture, from being called ugly and bald (for having short hair) to being called nerd. They would also often say I talked white because I talked proper. I’ve had books and food thrown at me. I’ve been scratched and kicked at. Had my shoes taken and thrown. It was awful. I let my grades suffer. Luckily, I wasn’t held back, but I did need a special transfer at the end of year for protection. (A lot of students ended up leaving because that particular school was horrible)
Seventh and eight grade was a bit better, but I was still being called ugly and bald. High school was okay, except for the boys who tried to make me feel like dirt by calling me ugly. I’m sad to say I often fought back instead of telling administrators, but I did not want my mom to worry to about me, as I’m her only child. She was so hurt about my time in sixth grade that I just didn’t want her (and administrators) to get involved.
I have often felt like if I were skinny with long hair, things at school would have been different. Things are okay now. The scars are still there, but I’m going to teach my kids that bullying is WRONG and to treat others they way they want to be treated.