Things That Got Me Through

9th September 2005

At school Saturdays, Sundays and school holidays were the favourite time for me. Precious hours and minutes I could shape to my own design. They offered time that ticked at sixty second speed rather than the time stood still classroom scenario with the minute hand going at snail’s pace on the wall. Time when my antagonists were nowhere to be seen and my mind was too immersed in activity to dwell on the things they’d said or the threats left hanging.

I played golf a lot. I found sanctuary on the practice ground of the local club, hitting shots alone in the cool air, lost in my own inner world of make believe. The greatest golf courses and tournaments of the world were a simple thought away and I delighted in transporting myself from my torment. I played and practised for hours, often until I could no longer see the ball in the gathering gloom. I played on weekdays too-sometimes when I should have been in school. But it didn’t matter then-I was desperate for respite, to have a place away from the classroom where nobody could hurt me or reach me at all.

I also loved books and read a huge amount. At school it was Ian Fleming’s Bond novels that took me away from my harsh reality. I had all manner of interests and I pursued them at every turn. I wrote a lot too. I penned my first short novel and two short stories aged sixteen while I was revising for my GCSE’s.

It was anything and everything I could do to get away from my bullied existence-the fear, the constant anxiety and every physical symptom of stress. My bike ride home every lunchtime-my cup of tea and chocolate bar, my trips to the gym, my training runs at home. Later, the punch bag I set up to take the brunt of my anger, the imagination I exercised, the love of writing words, the ability to visualise something and make it happen

All of these things helped me through.

I survived bullying because I refused to let them get me whole. They kicked and punched and put me down and wounded me terribly but I always had the feeling inside of wanting a better life. I always saw myself being successful, proving all my doubters wrong. In the midst of huge emotional anguish I still took time to close my eyes and see myself happy in better circumstances, living the life I would choose.

My determination bubbled underneath and set in every line of expression. Somewhere beneath the habit of self-bullying and the insults that swam into my brain at awkward moments, was a tiny sliver of esteem and a real desire to do well. And I nurtured it and looked after it and kept it safe through every battle I endured, against others and against myself. That tiny sliver did not wither and die because I did not allow it. And as it grew, so did i. Stronger and stronger until I was through and the bullying and the trauma of school became mere memories gathering dust.

Of course I wish I’d spoken up, fought back and demanded help sooner. But I didn’t because I lacked the knowledge and skills I have now. But I carried on with the things I really loved doing and never stopped daring to dream I would one day succeed. Ambition stoked the fire of my determination and ultimately-that’s what got me through.