Skip to main content

100 Sad Days; Day 41: when is a bully not a bully?

I wrote this two years ago and never published it as I didn't feel I should:

Is a bully that leaves a mark on someone's body worse than a bully that leaves a mark on someone's conscious - on their soul?

I am inclined to think yes - maybe that is why I allow myself to stay in relationships with a bully. 

Whereas I know the world wouldn't agree. A bully is a bully: be it mental or physical. 

You can make excuses for their behaviour - something at which I am most practiced - but it doesn't make it right. 

So why can I not admit that I am being bullied? I think everyone was bullied as a kid - I just chose to befriend the bully and "get him on side" and I think I have been doing the same ever since if I am honest. 

What makes someone think they are allowed to pick fault with another person? We are all allowed opinions but you are not meant to enforce them on another. You may have insecurities but the way to beat them is not to put another person down. The way forward is to meet your issues head on and deal with them - like the rest of the world. 

Stop taking your issues out on someone else and blaming the world for your problems. For they are just that: your problems. Not mine or anyone else's. 

Is it ok to be labelled a bully but not an abuser?

Bite your tongue. Think before you speak. Have you learnt nothing?

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

London Calling

I am no longer based "in town" and I never thought I'd miss it. Yet every Wednesday when I am London bound I find myself looking forward to what I will be greeted by. It's not the hustle and bustle - the fast moving commuters and slow shuffling tourists. It's not the shops and bargains abound. It's the buildings, the Underground, the knowing smile you may get from a fellow passenger, or the sarcastic comment of a Tube driver. I love London and its diversity. I love that you can walk just a short distance and be greeted by a whole new world. I love that you can randomly bump into an old friend you haven't seen for years. Making our big world smaller every day. I love St Paul's how proud it stands in the heart of the City. The fact it has survived wars and still attracts throngs of people to it everyday. I love the pomp and circumstance of the City and its Idiosyncrasies. I love that the museums are free and that you can meander around beautifu...

100 Sad Days; Day 34: Say it Like you Mean it

Elton John was wrong. Sorry is not the hardest word. In fact it is all to easily said and not meant.  For years I thought that flowers were a sad excuse for a sorry. Now I realise that what is worse is the empty shell of a sorry. The echo of an unmeant apology received in hope but ushered in haste.  I cannot count the times I have heard the word. From a forced apology "say you are sorry" to one that is said unkept.  We all say sorry. We bump in to someone and manners tell us to apologise. We drop something and we apologise. Sorry here is lighthearted but still meant. Kids fight or shout and apologise as they are taught to do. Sometimes they mean it sometimes they just say it. They are kids after all.  Adults should know better.  Sorry should mean just that. It isn't an excuse for bad behaviour. It isn't a "make everything better with one word". It should be said with the mouth, the heart and the mind.  If you are sorry then be sor...

LuluSLR: What depression means to me (first published in July 2014)

As a teenager we lived next door to a lady with depression.   She and her husband were lovely people, they would always stop and chat, but sometimes she would retreat and we wouldn't see her for months. Instead we would only see Ernie on his daily walk. Then suddenly she would be back beside him with long hair (Gladys always had short hair). I didn't really take much notice but can remember my mum commenting about Gladys and her long hair meaning she had been depressed.   Now, looking back, I can see how they were connected. How Glady wouldn't want to leave the house and thus her hair would grow and she would look unkempt when she did reappear. I get it now. Growing up depression wasn't really something I knew much about. I know members of my family have suffered with it but it just kind of passed me by. After all we all have sad days or  short periods. Well that's what I thought. Just get on with it. Keep smiling.   However my short periods would get longer...