Hello dear listeners! Childhood is a time of joy and growth, but for those of us who have experienced bullying, it often becomes a battleground. Being bullied is a deeply personal and painful experience that shapes how we view ourselves and the world around us. For me, this was no different. My empowerment journey began not in moments of triumph but in the depths of humiliation and rejection.
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You see, no one gets into motivation, inspiration, or the healing arts without first having endured pain. The pain point—and the process of overcoming it—is what triggers that deep need to help others. My story of pain began in elementary school with what I thought was the safest relationship in the world: my best friend.
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We were inseparable. My best friend and I were, as they say, tied at the Jordache hip. We had everything in common—our upbringings, our taste in music, even the clothes we wore. She was my blood sister, the kind of friend you vow will be in your life forever. But as life often does, change came in the form of middle school. Our elementary schools merged, and suddenly, we were thrown into a bigger pond with new faces, new dynamics, and new loyalties.
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That’s when it happened. She met someone new. It stung. At first, she tried to reassure me, throwing out sayings like “make new friends but keep the old; one is silver and the other is gold.” But the truth was, she didn’t keep me. She let me go faster than a cat on a hot tin roof. I was devastated. I cried to my mom about it, looking for any sign that she still wanted to be my friend—passing notes, hanging out at recess—but nothing came. Or at least very little.
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And so, I built my first wall. I vowed then and there that I would never let friends hurt me like that again. I would never give away my personal power. If being vulnerable meant risking that kind of rejection, I would choose to be alone. “I’ve got me,” I told myself. And for a while, that worked. Or so I thought.
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Middle school brought its own challenges. For some, junior high is a place of self-discovery and new beginnings. For me, it was the epicenter of bullying. I wasn’t just teased; I was seriously bullied. People wrote cruel things about me in textbooks. They mocked the way I walked, claiming it was “funny.” They pointed out that one of my eyes was slightly bigger than the other, as if it were a flaw I hadn’t noticed. They shamed me for not having the same last name as my mom. And then there were the hallway taunts—yelling that I was a lesbian, which, for the record, was meant as an insult despite my complete lack of judgment toward anyone’s sexuality.
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If you’re picturing me as some kind of misunderstood rebel, you’re not far off. In fact, I was compared to Ally Sheedy’s character in The Breakfast Club. (If you haven’t seen it, go look it up.) She was quirky, different—a label that really stung at the time, but one I’ve since learned to embrace.
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Most people let bullying drag them down, and tragically, some even take their own lives because of it. stopbullying.gov reports that in 12 of 15 school shootings, the shooters had been bullied. Students that are bullied are up to 9 times more likely to consider suicide than non-victims.
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But I didn’t let it destroy me. Instead, I took those intended insults and reframed them as a misguided attempt to improve myself. At the time, I believed the flaws my bullies pointed out were real, so I worked on “fixing” them. I didn’t realize then that I was already perfect just the way I was.
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For example:
They said I walked funny, so I learned to walk in high heels. And not just walk—I strutted, turning an ordinary hallway into my runway.
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They mocked my appearance, so I mastered makeup. I became so good at it that they started calling me “Miss Makeup,” a nickname I thought was hysterical –that derougatory comment had no sting in my new empowered state.
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I found my tribe in the drama and choir kids, a group of like-minded misfits who embraced my quirks. Sure, we were bullied collectively, but at least we were in it together.
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I also cultivated interests in faraway worlds, history, fashion, and beauty. I became someone who didn’t just survive bullying—I thrived because of it. The walls I had built to protect myself became a canvas for my self-improvement, and in the process, I discovered who I truly was.
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Now, you might say, “But those walls you built at 7 years old—weren’t they a bad thing? Didn’t they keep you from connecting with others?” And to some extent, you’d be right. Most of our walls do come from childhood trauma, and they often linger long after their purpose has been served. But here’s the thing: isn’t it better to have made lemonade out of lemons at such a young age than to retreat into a shell forever? My walls may have started as a response to pain, but they also gave me the space I needed to grow.
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As I grew older, I realized that the same walls protecting me were also limiting me. They kept me safe, yes, but they also kept me from fully experiencing love, connection, and joy.
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So, I began the hard work of dismantling them. Brick by brick, I tore down those barriers, I turned myself from an introvert into an extrovert.
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This process wasn’t easy. It required vulnerability, a willingness to show up as my authentic self even when it felt scary. But as I let go of the fear and anger that had fueled my walls, I found something incredible on the other side: empowerment. I discovered that I didn’t need walls to protect me anymore because I had built something even stronger within myself—confidence, resilience, and self-love of who I had beome.
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Tearing down my walls allowed me to connect with others in ways I never thought possible. I stopped fearing rejection because I knew my worth wasn’t tied to anyone else’s opinion.
More importantly, I realized that the very things my bullies mocked were the things that made me unique. My quirks, my interests, my individuality—those are my superpowers. And guess what? They’re yours too.
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Today, I’m no longer the girl hiding behind emotional barriers. I’m an empowered adult living a life I love, and I owe much of that to the challenges I faced as a bullied child. My pain became my purpose, my rejection became my resilience, and my walls became my wisdom.
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So to anyone out there still hiding behind their walls, I say this: it’s time to let them go. Yes, they served a purpose once, but you don’t need them anymore. You’re stronger than you think, and the life you’ve always dreamed of is waiting for you—on the other side of those walls.
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You’ve got this. And I’ve got your back.
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*P. S. if you or someone you know is being bullied, please talk to someone who can help you, such as a counselor, a hotline or even the police if someone is in imminent danger. Links to websites that can help are listed at the bottom of this page*