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My mom and I just spoke about it: neither of us were bullied, but we weren't very popular because we were too weird. I grew up thinking I didn't need anyone else, and I pretended not to care that other people didn't like me.
I was called Weirdre from fourth grade on. By fifth grade, I'd convinced myself that was cool. I befriended the outcasts, for the most part. I always liked the underdogs because I felt I understood them.
While I'm lucky in that I wasn't bullied, the consequences of other kids' meanness turned me inward, meaning I didn't really know how to get along with others. When guys started being interested in me, I was fairly easy prey as I craved attention. That could have turned out much worse than it did: mostly I had normal but unsatisfying relationships, albeit too many and too short. I dumped guys when I wasn't the center of attention. I held onto the book and movie romantic ideals, and eventually figured out that wasn't quite the way it worked. It took me a long time to get there.
As a consequence, I don't really understand people. It's only been since I started writing that I bothered to try. Thus, I started out behind the curve, and characterization will never be my primary area of writerly expertise. I just don't have that kind of background.
So I don't really know what bullying is like for other people. I tried not to draw attention to myself, and for the most part, that worked. Downside is that I tend to turn inward, and I tend to be depressive. Not a surprise, really.
So when I read about the seriousness of bullying of people I know, it's heartbreaking. In particular, Seanan linked to this blog post -- and that. Just that. (It does have completely justifiable profanity.)
I was called Weirdre from fourth grade on. By fifth grade, I'd convinced myself that was cool. I befriended the outcasts, for the most part. I always liked the underdogs because I felt I understood them.
While I'm lucky in that I wasn't bullied, the consequences of other kids' meanness turned me inward, meaning I didn't really know how to get along with others. When guys started being interested in me, I was fairly easy prey as I craved attention. That could have turned out much worse than it did: mostly I had normal but unsatisfying relationships, albeit too many and too short. I dumped guys when I wasn't the center of attention. I held onto the book and movie romantic ideals, and eventually figured out that wasn't quite the way it worked. It took me a long time to get there.
As a consequence, I don't really understand people. It's only been since I started writing that I bothered to try. Thus, I started out behind the curve, and characterization will never be my primary area of writerly expertise. I just don't have that kind of background.
So I don't really know what bullying is like for other people. I tried not to draw attention to myself, and for the most part, that worked. Downside is that I tend to turn inward, and I tend to be depressive. Not a surprise, really.
So when I read about the seriousness of bullying of people I know, it's heartbreaking. In particular, Seanan linked to this blog post -- and that. Just that. (It does have completely justifiable profanity.)