This is incredibly balanced Miranda! I was expecting something different when I started reading, but I love how you blind-sided me with your compassion, nuance and thoughtfulness.
Thank you so much, Nanette. I’m not sure I deserve your kindness but I do appreciate it. It took me a while to finish this so I had plenty of opportunity to work out the kinks in my bitterness. 😉 It’s been quite a cathartic process.
Ahh, the vicious social bob-and-weave game we are all taught how to play once school starts. We were all socialized into that learning. Girls like Emma who were more “grounded” were the outliers.
I agree with Nanette - I did not see the path before me, but it was beautifully (if heartbreakingly) paved. It made me remember that there was a girl who was one of my best friends for a bit, but she was a bit odd (though generous of spirit), and by high school, I really didn’t want to hang out with her much anymore. She eventually became an alcoholic (yes, in high school) and had to go into rehab. I live with feeling that I contributed to her spiral, even though we reconnected at our 20th high school reunion and are friends on Facebook. She married the guy who took her to prom (also known as a weirdo), and they had a son who is on the autism spectrum. Her husband died suddenly about 10 years ago now. It was very sad, and made me feel guilty all over again, even though I obviously had nothing to do with that. <sigh>. We can only be better once we know we need to. Sending you hugs, my friend. Thank you for sharing such a personal experience 🧡
"We can only be better once we know we need to." This is so true, Amy. And yes - that guilt is totally irrational sometimes. It may originate in something real but it pops up in the most ridiculous places. I was about to say that kids are totally ill-equipped to deal with difference. But I don't think adults are any better at it.
Ending this essay with those two "invitations" was a perfect finish, Miranda! And, yes, so much of your essay resonates with me, although I'm American and went to U.S. public schools. Although I loved to read, I hated school and the cliques and the daily humiliations. I remember I used to hold my bladder for a full 8-9 hours (time between leaving home and arriving back home) just so I could avoid the girl's restroom. You never knew what was going on in there.
I'm also guilty of treating people badly while being treated badly myself so I have a lot of memories I'd just as soon forget. I guess for that reason, I haven't made much of an effort to hook up with old schoolmates. In the early days of Facebook, some of that did happen, and it was fine since the schoolmates reaching out to me were the ones nice to me back then. But quickly I'd see that, while we had the school in common, we didn't have much else. I had moved on, literally and figuratively, and so I unfriended most of them eventually.
I admired you for writing this all down and sharing it. It's not something I could do. I'd rather read ;-)
I expect the stories are similar whatever country or school system you’re in. The details of why we were all bullied are just different. And oh my god - I’d forgotten the horror of the school bathrooms. I think I did the same. I only ever went into a stall when we had to get changed for PE. Otherwise, we had to face the horror of the communal changing rooms. I got ridiculed for that too.
I’m not in contact with anyone from that school. And only with one person from primary school. We reconnected in the last couple of years when my dad was ill and I discovered she still lived nearby. Where once we played with marbles in the playground, we now compare peri-menopause stories which I find hilarious!
Thank you for writing this, I lost my first and only best friend in an argument over me going to the posh school at 11 years old. I was forever chasing a reconciliation, I even chose the same university as her always wanting to get back that bond we had from the ages of 5-11. There was no reconciliation until about 20 years later, I’d returned home to care for my Mum and she visited, it all came out, I’d thought that it didn’t matter where I went to school, she was my best friend and would always be my best friend.She thought I was leaving her behind and if I really was her best friend then I’d reject the posh school and go to the local school with her instead. All of a sudden both sides were so understandable. We’re not best friends now, but we do keep in touch and regularly send each other Snoopy cartoons.The ramifications of that falling out have rippled through both our lives, so definitely a ‘me too’ moment.
Jo, that's heartbreaking. If you were anything like me at 11, I doubt that was even your choice. I had the opportunity to go to the non-posh school but my mother had so filled me with fear about what an awful, scary place it was that it really wasn't a choice at all. I'm so pleased you found your way back to each other in the form of Snoopy cartoons. I still love Snoopy. Have you ever discussed the impact as well as the why with her?
Oh yes, we’ve discussed things, there was bad behaviour on both sides afterwards, these child friendships are the first foray we have into the world of relationships so to have one so strong ripped apart at such an early age really impacted both of our future relationships, trust issues etc etc. We both have our happy ending now and thank god for Snoopy, that’s one relationship that never let me down, apart from once and I’ll write about that on here at some point !
You’re so right, Jo. These early hurts probably hurt far more because we’re so young and unpracticed in resilience. I can’t believe Snoopy ever let you down. Please tag me when you write that story. I need to know more ...
What a great piece of writing. I read it with growing dread and anxiety. And recognition. About pain both received and administered ... I hope you connect with Emma again.
This comment has made my day. That means a great deal coming from you, Mr Carnegie. Thank you. I'd really love to connect with Emma, but I think it's very unlikely.
She’s had a fair bit of drama, and she’s not a fan of getting up on the mornings, that’s for sure! But she seems to have settled better into this year as she’s got older 🤍
Wow. Absolutely brilliant writing Miranda. Such a compelling story that had me contemplating my own childhood experiences. I’m not in touch with anyone from those years, I moved away and never felt the loss of those connections as I was never really close to anyone. I was glad to escape.
Miranda, this is so good. I was bullied at school (a bunch of my friends were also) but even we were unkind to another girl. I don’t remember much (which doesn’t mean anything) but I know I was complicit in my silence.
Wow. We need to talk. Seriously. There's so much to say about this fabulous essay, about karma, about, about grief, about the power of honest reflection and how life-changing, how healing it can be. Thank you for sharing this story, it's beautiful and so are you.
Wow, Miranda! This is such a relevant topic - probably for all of us. I've been amazed at how Facebook seems to have leveled the playing field. I love your writing and the way your brain works. Especially the beer part!
Aaah, Teri, you are fabulous. Thank you for always being so supportive.
Facebook has certainly made it easier to resurrect (and stalk) old ghosts. Maybe it's not always healthy, but it does get the memory churning into action.
This really touched a chord Melinda, I’m reminded of an old school friend I adored, we were so close (or so I thought) from the age of 11 to 22 and suddenly she disappeared, it took me years to locate her again only to find she had no need (her words) of being reminded of the hideous time that made up her years at school and college... neither the friends she had made there. I thought about this for a very long time, it played havoc in my mind to think I could have been so mistaken and misguided by someone I considered one of my best friends... and still does on occasion. I have veered often between bitterness and compassion as you speak of too in this very honest account of Lydia... and I can only summarise that truly, do we ever know anyone as well as we honk we do?
Huge apologies for taking so long to read through your beautifully written account, mine is not a home of frequent quiet for concentrating... but at this time of the morning it’s guaranteed! X
That's heartbreaking, Susie. For you and for your friend. I know we can never assume our experience mirrors someone else's, but that is quite an extreme difference in perception. I wonder what on earth happened to her. My partner lost contact with a uni friend and housemate she'd considered extremely close after that friend experienced a severe trauma and then tried to take her own life. After my partner prevented her from ending her life, the friend left uni and cut herself off from everyone. I believe she's now doing really well, but some hurts are too deep to repair without reliving the trauma.
No apology needed. It was a long one this time. Quiet time is precious. xx
They truly are and yet I know without a shadow of doubt, if we met for what ever reason now, my first and only instinct would be to hug her... because I still miss our closeness no matter how misguided it was.
With love Melinda... I hope your week has been a gente one x
This took me a few days to make it all the way through, and I am so glad I had the opportunity to read it! In the shame, there's so much I relate to, and in the anger and seeing bullies painting themselves as victims, I had to stop a few times and just sit with the wounds I didn't realize were still in there.
A theme for me for the past two years since getting out of abusive relationships and starting to draw firmer boundaries with unhealthy family connections has been emphasizing the importance of female friendship... and despite valuing and longing for it, there's SO much pain and confusion that bubbles up and gets in the way before and as I start to grow closer to women. I've felt weird and lonely trying to talk about it with other people because I don't want to paint myself a victim, but acknowledging the wounds out loud is kind of the first step for me to process and then notice there's more to the picture than just the victimhood which talks the loudest. It's a strange sense of solidarity to hear that another woman, especially a wonderful writer and beautiful person I admire and treasure, has experience with some of these same emotions and knows what this path can look and feel like.
I don't feel like I have any conclusion just yet, but it was cathartic to think and take my time wandering through this story of perceptions, pain, regret, and questions/wonderings we don't always admit to one another.
Hey you. It's taken me a couple of days to gather my own thoughts to reply to you too. I just wanted to tell you that I recognise that cycling through vulnerability and self-doubt when you start to talk about your experience. I've found that there are definitely two camps of people in that process. There are those who will shut you down with an immediate "I'm sure it wasn't like that" or "I'm sure they did their best" and compound a lifetime of gaslighting. Then there are those who just get it. They don't need to be convinced.
I've learned to seed the conversation very gently before I open myself too far. If I get a hint of the first, I'll shut down that side of myself in the company of that person. They may be lovely in every other way, they may just be unable to face that kind of discomfort, but I'm no longer willing to open myself to other people's doubt. I don't have to prove my experience to anyone. (That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt-- but I'm getting better at not giving other people's doubt space in my heart.)
The second kind of person, those who get it, often do so because they've had a similar experience. They don't make you feel like you're painting yourself as a victim. They understand how important it is to allow someone space to just explore their own experience. These people are gold! It's not an easy or a linear journey. I'm so happy you're beginning to find those few gems who will support you in that process. Sending you love. xx
This is incredibly balanced Miranda! I was expecting something different when I started reading, but I love how you blind-sided me with your compassion, nuance and thoughtfulness.
Thank you so much, Nanette. I’m not sure I deserve your kindness but I do appreciate it. It took me a while to finish this so I had plenty of opportunity to work out the kinks in my bitterness. 😉 It’s been quite a cathartic process.
Ahh, the vicious social bob-and-weave game we are all taught how to play once school starts. We were all socialized into that learning. Girls like Emma who were more “grounded” were the outliers.
I agree with Nanette - I did not see the path before me, but it was beautifully (if heartbreakingly) paved. It made me remember that there was a girl who was one of my best friends for a bit, but she was a bit odd (though generous of spirit), and by high school, I really didn’t want to hang out with her much anymore. She eventually became an alcoholic (yes, in high school) and had to go into rehab. I live with feeling that I contributed to her spiral, even though we reconnected at our 20th high school reunion and are friends on Facebook. She married the guy who took her to prom (also known as a weirdo), and they had a son who is on the autism spectrum. Her husband died suddenly about 10 years ago now. It was very sad, and made me feel guilty all over again, even though I obviously had nothing to do with that. <sigh>. We can only be better once we know we need to. Sending you hugs, my friend. Thank you for sharing such a personal experience 🧡
"We can only be better once we know we need to." This is so true, Amy. And yes - that guilt is totally irrational sometimes. It may originate in something real but it pops up in the most ridiculous places. I was about to say that kids are totally ill-equipped to deal with difference. But I don't think adults are any better at it.
Ending this essay with those two "invitations" was a perfect finish, Miranda! And, yes, so much of your essay resonates with me, although I'm American and went to U.S. public schools. Although I loved to read, I hated school and the cliques and the daily humiliations. I remember I used to hold my bladder for a full 8-9 hours (time between leaving home and arriving back home) just so I could avoid the girl's restroom. You never knew what was going on in there.
I'm also guilty of treating people badly while being treated badly myself so I have a lot of memories I'd just as soon forget. I guess for that reason, I haven't made much of an effort to hook up with old schoolmates. In the early days of Facebook, some of that did happen, and it was fine since the schoolmates reaching out to me were the ones nice to me back then. But quickly I'd see that, while we had the school in common, we didn't have much else. I had moved on, literally and figuratively, and so I unfriended most of them eventually.
I admired you for writing this all down and sharing it. It's not something I could do. I'd rather read ;-)
I expect the stories are similar whatever country or school system you’re in. The details of why we were all bullied are just different. And oh my god - I’d forgotten the horror of the school bathrooms. I think I did the same. I only ever went into a stall when we had to get changed for PE. Otherwise, we had to face the horror of the communal changing rooms. I got ridiculed for that too.
I’m not in contact with anyone from that school. And only with one person from primary school. We reconnected in the last couple of years when my dad was ill and I discovered she still lived nearby. Where once we played with marbles in the playground, we now compare peri-menopause stories which I find hilarious!
Thank you for writing this, I lost my first and only best friend in an argument over me going to the posh school at 11 years old. I was forever chasing a reconciliation, I even chose the same university as her always wanting to get back that bond we had from the ages of 5-11. There was no reconciliation until about 20 years later, I’d returned home to care for my Mum and she visited, it all came out, I’d thought that it didn’t matter where I went to school, she was my best friend and would always be my best friend.She thought I was leaving her behind and if I really was her best friend then I’d reject the posh school and go to the local school with her instead. All of a sudden both sides were so understandable. We’re not best friends now, but we do keep in touch and regularly send each other Snoopy cartoons.The ramifications of that falling out have rippled through both our lives, so definitely a ‘me too’ moment.
Jo, that's heartbreaking. If you were anything like me at 11, I doubt that was even your choice. I had the opportunity to go to the non-posh school but my mother had so filled me with fear about what an awful, scary place it was that it really wasn't a choice at all. I'm so pleased you found your way back to each other in the form of Snoopy cartoons. I still love Snoopy. Have you ever discussed the impact as well as the why with her?
Oh yes, we’ve discussed things, there was bad behaviour on both sides afterwards, these child friendships are the first foray we have into the world of relationships so to have one so strong ripped apart at such an early age really impacted both of our future relationships, trust issues etc etc. We both have our happy ending now and thank god for Snoopy, that’s one relationship that never let me down, apart from once and I’ll write about that on here at some point !
You’re so right, Jo. These early hurts probably hurt far more because we’re so young and unpracticed in resilience. I can’t believe Snoopy ever let you down. Please tag me when you write that story. I need to know more ...
What a great piece of writing. I read it with growing dread and anxiety. And recognition. About pain both received and administered ... I hope you connect with Emma again.
This comment has made my day. That means a great deal coming from you, Mr Carnegie. Thank you. I'd really love to connect with Emma, but I think it's very unlikely.
I am watching my daughter go through secondary school now and it does bring back memories. Art and music were the things that held me together.
How is she finding it? I think I'd struggle not to overlay my own memories and anxieties on a child if I had one.
She’s had a fair bit of drama, and she’s not a fan of getting up on the mornings, that’s for sure! But she seems to have settled better into this year as she’s got older 🤍
Wow. Absolutely brilliant writing Miranda. Such a compelling story that had me contemplating my own childhood experiences. I’m not in touch with anyone from those years, I moved away and never felt the loss of those connections as I was never really close to anyone. I was glad to escape.
That seems to be a common story, Emily. Did anyone really enjoy their school days, I wonder?
Miranda, this is so good. I was bullied at school (a bunch of my friends were also) but even we were unkind to another girl. I don’t remember much (which doesn’t mean anything) but I know I was complicit in my silence.
Maybe we all did, Leanne? I can't help but worry about my niece and nephew now they're at this same age. I wonder if anything has really changed.
Wow. We need to talk. Seriously. There's so much to say about this fabulous essay, about karma, about, about grief, about the power of honest reflection and how life-changing, how healing it can be. Thank you for sharing this story, it's beautiful and so are you.
❤️ Let’s talk!
Wow, Miranda! This is such a relevant topic - probably for all of us. I've been amazed at how Facebook seems to have leveled the playing field. I love your writing and the way your brain works. Especially the beer part!
Aaah, Teri, you are fabulous. Thank you for always being so supportive.
Facebook has certainly made it easier to resurrect (and stalk) old ghosts. Maybe it's not always healthy, but it does get the memory churning into action.
Thanks! Yes, I've got some of these too!!
This really touched a chord Melinda, I’m reminded of an old school friend I adored, we were so close (or so I thought) from the age of 11 to 22 and suddenly she disappeared, it took me years to locate her again only to find she had no need (her words) of being reminded of the hideous time that made up her years at school and college... neither the friends she had made there. I thought about this for a very long time, it played havoc in my mind to think I could have been so mistaken and misguided by someone I considered one of my best friends... and still does on occasion. I have veered often between bitterness and compassion as you speak of too in this very honest account of Lydia... and I can only summarise that truly, do we ever know anyone as well as we honk we do?
Huge apologies for taking so long to read through your beautifully written account, mine is not a home of frequent quiet for concentrating... but at this time of the morning it’s guaranteed! X
That's heartbreaking, Susie. For you and for your friend. I know we can never assume our experience mirrors someone else's, but that is quite an extreme difference in perception. I wonder what on earth happened to her. My partner lost contact with a uni friend and housemate she'd considered extremely close after that friend experienced a severe trauma and then tried to take her own life. After my partner prevented her from ending her life, the friend left uni and cut herself off from everyone. I believe she's now doing really well, but some hurts are too deep to repair without reliving the trauma.
No apology needed. It was a long one this time. Quiet time is precious. xx
They truly are and yet I know without a shadow of doubt, if we met for what ever reason now, my first and only instinct would be to hug her... because I still miss our closeness no matter how misguided it was.
With love Melinda... I hope your week has been a gente one x
This took me a few days to make it all the way through, and I am so glad I had the opportunity to read it! In the shame, there's so much I relate to, and in the anger and seeing bullies painting themselves as victims, I had to stop a few times and just sit with the wounds I didn't realize were still in there.
A theme for me for the past two years since getting out of abusive relationships and starting to draw firmer boundaries with unhealthy family connections has been emphasizing the importance of female friendship... and despite valuing and longing for it, there's SO much pain and confusion that bubbles up and gets in the way before and as I start to grow closer to women. I've felt weird and lonely trying to talk about it with other people because I don't want to paint myself a victim, but acknowledging the wounds out loud is kind of the first step for me to process and then notice there's more to the picture than just the victimhood which talks the loudest. It's a strange sense of solidarity to hear that another woman, especially a wonderful writer and beautiful person I admire and treasure, has experience with some of these same emotions and knows what this path can look and feel like.
I don't feel like I have any conclusion just yet, but it was cathartic to think and take my time wandering through this story of perceptions, pain, regret, and questions/wonderings we don't always admit to one another.
Hey you. It's taken me a couple of days to gather my own thoughts to reply to you too. I just wanted to tell you that I recognise that cycling through vulnerability and self-doubt when you start to talk about your experience. I've found that there are definitely two camps of people in that process. There are those who will shut you down with an immediate "I'm sure it wasn't like that" or "I'm sure they did their best" and compound a lifetime of gaslighting. Then there are those who just get it. They don't need to be convinced.
I've learned to seed the conversation very gently before I open myself too far. If I get a hint of the first, I'll shut down that side of myself in the company of that person. They may be lovely in every other way, they may just be unable to face that kind of discomfort, but I'm no longer willing to open myself to other people's doubt. I don't have to prove my experience to anyone. (That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt-- but I'm getting better at not giving other people's doubt space in my heart.)
The second kind of person, those who get it, often do so because they've had a similar experience. They don't make you feel like you're painting yourself as a victim. They understand how important it is to allow someone space to just explore their own experience. These people are gold! It's not an easy or a linear journey. I'm so happy you're beginning to find those few gems who will support you in that process. Sending you love. xx
Thank you so much for sharing this, so open and honestly written 🙏🏻
Thank you, Letitia. ❤️