Healing Words: How I Recovered From Bullying

Learn how to heal from bullying on bettysbattleground.com

A guest writer series about the ways we heal-on bettysbattleground.comAs Winter break comes to a close and those who are in school return to classes and cliques, I think it’s important to discuss the effects of an insidious phenomenon: bullying. We are raised to believe bullying is an unavoidable part of growing up. Bullies have always existed and always will exist; problem is, that is a self-created reality. We create bullies, and we choose to be bullies. It’s possible to choose otherwise.

In kids’ movies it’s easy to identify the bully as a villain. Afterall, that’s how kids view bullies. As adults, however, we recognize that a bully is a kid in pain; a kid who is probably emulating behavior he sees at home. It’s on us to stop acting racist, xenophobic, homophobic, sexist, petty, and just plain mean. Until we do, the children and teens in our lives will pick up those behaviors and bring them to school with them. This essay by a young woman named Jasminder outlines in painful clarity the lifelong effects bullying can have on a person–but it also demonstrates the resilience and power that survivors can use to heal.

If you know a bully, are a bully, or have ever been bullied, this story is for you.

Learn how to heal from bullying on bettysbattleground.comJasminder is a self-declared philosopher, crafter, college student, and full-time dream-chaser. When not tripping down the rabbit hole, she can be found sipping herbal tea, dancing around her bedroom, and finding new ways to love her life.

 

 

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An Untold Story From 9/11

methadone dosing during 9/11-on bettysbattleground.com

When the first airplane hit the Twin Towers, I was thirteen years old. It was still early in Seattle, and I was getting ready for school. I heard about it on The End, the local angsty rocker radio station. It was still new, the events were still unfolding, and information was patchy. They said New York had been bombed.

I have family in New York, and in bordering parts of New Jersey. Several aunts, and my Abuelita, at the time. So when I heard New York was being bombed, they were the first people I feared for. When the records were corrected, when I learned airplanes had crashed into one targeted area, far from my family, I was relieved. That was the first emotion I felt in response to 9/11. Others would come, but relief and gratitude were my first.

A lot of people lost loves ones during these attacks. Every Muslim-American lost rights and dignities that day for which they still struggle. I don’t know exactly what happened that day. Was it a terrorist attack? Did the government do it? Or if the Bush administration didn’t actually plan the attacks, did they allow the terrorists in? We know for certain that they ignored intel that could have helped prevent or ameliorate the devastation caused. In the end, whatever happened, a lot of families were left irreparably broken, and our country lost the easy hubris upon which we’d built our empire.

Those stories belong to other people. I didn’t lose anyone to the 9/11 attacks. My city wasn’t directly affected; my skyline wasn’t shattered. I was too young to fully feel the impact on the nation, at least at first. The stories of loss and pain and heartbreak are not mine to tell, but while I was researching my recent article on dosing during disasters, Joycelyn Woods, executive director for National Alliance for Medication Assisted Recovery and long time New Yorker, told me a different kind of 9/11 story, which I’d like to share with you today.

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