I was the bullied guy. I was the fat one, the nerd, the one with a skin condition, and my mother worked at my school so I was afraid anything I did would impact her job. I had a high demand from everyone. And I had no real friends, and a few "enemies". Some, in particular, that made my life hell when I was between 11 and 13 years old.
And I almost killed one of them, knife to the back style. But I stopped myself before stabbing him, because of the consequences. I took a rational approach and considered pros and cons, and stopped myself.
The next thing I did was to shut down all emotion, to train myself not to fill, and just keep going year after year until college was done, and beyond. THIS was my worst mistake.
Because now I'm almost 40 and just now I'm starting to feel alive again, to allowing myself to experience things, and to enjoy them, to enjoy human company, to etc etc. In the meanwhile I kept been anxious about people, not allowing myself to take to the stage, avoiding business meetings, avoiding the telephone, I thought I could shut down feelings but all I really did was hide.
Then one day I was at a congress and I had a question for the panelist but I couldn't raise my hand. Then again another time. And another. Then one day I got tired of my own bs and raised it, and I got a mic and a light spot on me, and I sttutered so much I couldn't speak. I flinched and gave the mic back, shaking. I left the place and I went home, took a 3 hour long shower trying to wash the tears away, wondering how I was going to face people at work (that were with me) the next day.
Then, all of sudden, the morning came and I walked into the office, people looked at me. I said for everyone with a smile on my face "Yes, I do have crippling social anxiety, laugh away, I don't mind"
Was I popular after that? No. Did it stop gossip? No.
But I understood at that moment one thing true: it's not about THEM, it was about ME. I wanted to leave such a good and perfect impression that MY standards made me worry. They are not all that concerned about every little thing that I do. I had eidetic memory growing up, for me everyone was a collection of every little thing they did, but people don't work that way. It's not all that important, nor definitive, and even the harsh/bad people that make a living out of bulling others, well that's THEIR problem, not mine, I don't want them as friends, don't need them near, they can think of me whatever they want, they are not a part of my life.
I was going to say "I cannot tell this to 16 year old me, but I can tell this to 16 year old you", and I have, but also stands out the fact that I KNEW this when I was 16. Rationally, I knew. I just didn't have the emotional tools to put into practice. The key word is "practice". Like a muscle, a little bit every day.
