To the Bully Who Indirectly Caused My Addiction and Depression

Dear Bully,

It has been some time since we last spoke and indeed some time since the chaos of middle school. For so many years after I switched schools in seventh grade, I found myself asking why. Why would someone so coldly and without remorse torture me emotionally, mentally and physically? That question tore me apart for years. But in high school, where everyone gossips, I saw some pictures of you and another one of our classmates that you had intended to stay private and I got my answer. Finally, after over half a decade of waiting, I knew what started all this. Everything slid into place, and that was something I wasn’t emotionally or mentally equipped to handle. But this letter isn’t to talk about what or why. I don’t care if you’re gay or if you had a crush on me. What I care about is the way it made me feel.

You’ve impacted my life as well as the lives of my family. You took the little childhood I had left. You stole my desire to learn. You hurt my ability to socialize appropriately. You deprived me of a lot of joy over several years. I could go on and on about how you indirectly caused my downward spiral into the depths of addiction, about how my resentment toward you landed me in a rehab program, how I dropped out because I couldn’t cope with being in a school where you freely and happily roamed the halls.

But in truth, none of this is your fault. I was going to be an alcoholic one way or another; pure genetics. I was going to drop out one way or another to pursue my passion of vigorous day drinking. And beyond my addiction and alcoholism, I chose not to seek mental health attention when I was depressed or having a flashback of you. Sure, the things you did to me sped up my downward spiral exceedingly, and sure the memory of how you treated me will forever affect me in every little thing I do. But we were just kids. If it’s not your fault, then why is it so hard for me not to be angry with you? Why can’t I get over it all? Why can’t I shake this feeling of jealousy of your seemingly ordinary life while I’m here picking up the pieces of myself day after day?

I guess the whole reason in me writing this letter is because I want you to know that your reaction to something in your life that you felt was wrong was not OK and will never be OK. I want you to know that because of the things you and your friends did to me, I am startled easily, I freak out if someone is walking directly behind me, and I panic when it comes to social situations, at times. I don’t tell you all these things in an attempt to force you to feel a tiny ounce of the pain you caused. I don’t tell you this in hopes that you’ll hurt yourself. I don’t tell you this in hopes that you’ll apologize.

Bully, I care about you as a human, and I care about you as a potential and likely member of the LGBTQIA+ community. I hope that one day I can forgive you for what you did and truly get over those awful teenage years, but the truth of the matter is you were never alone in bullying me. You weren’t my first bully, and you weren’t my last. I’m an easy target. I am aware of this.

In saying all this, I am still in no way letting you off the hook for your actions. What you did and what you started is in no way and never will be justifiable. What you did will never be forgotten. You and your friends made me such a stronger person. I am now able to take insults easily for the most part and ignore the haters. Without you, I wouldn’t be the person I am today, which is so much more knowledgeable, grateful, sensitive and street-smart than I was when I was young. Even though your actions may not be justifiable or forgiven at this point, we were only kids, and I know what it’s like to be gay in the “Bible Belt.” I know how it feels to hate oneself. I know how it feels not to be accepted. I know how it feels not to be able to find love. I hope that you are well and don’t toss and turn so many nights as I do. I hope that you can grow from your past and become an amazing husband, father, and contributor to society.

Sincerely,

Mitchell.