Bullying and the Mob Mentality

First I want to welcome all my new blog readers! This is a very personal blog and I write with complete honesty about situations I have experienced. It is the only way that I can survive. And thank you so much for all the kind messages I have received the last few days!

So, in going back through my blog I have 4-5 drafts, but I haven’t published a post since January. No wonder my life has felt so off-balance lately. My blog has become a place of healing and growth. I have missed it and the clarity it provides.

There has been so much change recently that I need to backtrack and get my blog caught up to the present. This is probably a really great thing because it will help me take a big deep breath and gain some perspective on the things that are currently happening. Maybe going back to other experiences will help me not write things I may regret. Perspective is never a bad thing. But, yes, that blog post halfway done and it will be published. 

So join me and let’s dig back in the chaos and fill in the gaps. My last post was in January, so I am going to start there. Want to know something crazy? The only way that I can remember and differentiate parts on my life is through the pictures in my phone. It is my official memory jogger. My brain has an amazing way of protecting itself from painful events, but pictures always tell the story.

Right at the end of January I experienced something incredibly painful. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would have to deal with this once I became an adult.

Cyber Bullying

It was really ugly. I hadn’t felt that vulnerable and scared in a long time. For those that have read previous posts, you know that I have a history with years of bullying and abuse when I was young. I was really shocked that at the age of 34 I would be dragged in to that madness again. I try hard to insulate myself from outside influences, but you can’t control everything or the way people feel. The interesting thing is that these were women much older than me, threatening me with pictures of guns and violence. Seriously? They threatened to come to my home and physically harm me. They knew where I lived. It was absolutely insane and incredibly scary. Honestly, my brain still has a hard time comprehending the entire experience.

Why do people think that putting these horrible things online for the world to see is okay? Do they think that somehow the pain and hurt they are causing is not as cruel if they are doing it in texts, posts or comments on Facebook? Maybe it doesn’t feel as real to them.

I’m going to add a few of the images to my blog that “they” posted on Facebook, only because I want you to see what the face of bullying looks like online. Sorry about the language. I may remove these later depending on how I feel about it tomorrow. And of course, these don’t contain the entire post or the 50+ comments. It got ugly fast.

EDIT: So one of the people I am writing about in this blog post apparently still stalks me. How unfortunate that she wastes her time on something so negative. She has a complaint against me via WordPress that I am in the process of appealing. That is why one of the graphics is not viewable.

The really interesting thing was the reaction from the people who knew about the situation and why it started. When I showed them what was happening, there wasn’t even a “Wow. That is really messed up.” Their reaction made me feel like I deserved the abuse. In my mind I must be horrible if people are talking about me the way they were, right? I don’t know if that feeling makes sense to you unless you have experienced this type of harassment first hand. I felt an overwhelming sense of shame.

The Mob Mentality

Now that we have covered a little of what happened earlier this year, I want to talk about the Mob Mentality. Because when they posted these pictures, friends of theirs who had NO information whatsoever on the actual situation started chiming in. Of course right?Because hatred is contagious when they “perceive” an injustice. First off, bullying and the mob mentality is a dangerous combination. It can quickly spiral out of control because it fuels the bully’s ego and makes them more confident now that their hatred has been validated by their peers. Social media has become the biggest bully pulpit in the world. Could they say those exact same words in person? Or is it only because they have the comfort of a screen and hundreds of miles between us?

In my blog post called “Growing Pains” I talked about my experiences as a teen with bullying. What I didn’t talk about was what happened years later when I talked with a guy who joined in with THE crowd. He laughed along with the others and here is his reason why. He told me that he didn’t want to become the focus of their hate, so he felt like he had to go along with it. No, he didn’t like what was happening to me, but he didn’t think his voice alone was strong enough to stop it.

I understand the fear of being left behind or placed in the bully’s crosshairs. It’s absolutely human nature for us to want to go along in order to be included in the group. There is safety in numbers and it’s never fun to be unpopular. I know that first hand. I was bullied, harassed and generally made to feel like I existed just for a certain group of classmates’ amusement. It has made me a paranoid person who still feels anxiety in certain social situations. In writing this post I have decided that I actually have an issue with the term “bullying.” It projects an image of teasing and/or whispering behind each other’s backs. In fact, bullying is more physical violence, sexual humiliation and deeply personal attacks.

I want to be part of a group that is loving, hard working, accepting and won’t tolerate hate in any form. Call it naive, but that is my hope for the future of our human race. Revenge is not the answer. It only adds fuel to the fire. I’m talking about extinguishing the fire by teaching others how to be brave enough to stand up to a bully, and not go along with a crowd when it means giving up your humanity in order to be included. Who wants to carry that type of burden and guilt?

I will be talking a lot in my upcoming blog posts about the Power of Validation. I have only learned about this recently and it has been a game changer in my relationships. If you are ever in a situation where you don’t know what to say to someone who is struggling or in pain, then find a way to validate their feelings. I will give really great examples in a different post. But one of the best, is

“Wow. I can’t even begin to imagine how hurt you must be feeling right now. That must be incredibly painful to have them post those horrible things about you to the public.”

Part of validation is restating what they told you by using simple and precise language so they know you were listening. Do NOT ask if they are okay. Do NOT ask how you can help. Just validate their experience whether you understand it or not. It might sound simple, but it is truly powerful and can quickly deescalate a situation. People want to know they have been heard. That is why you don’t tell them that you know how they feel, because it minimizes their feelings. It takes practice. If you want to know more about validation, click here.

Fun Fact: Validation is one of the core skills of Dialectical Behavior Therapy. (The greatest form of therapy on the planet!)

xoxo,

Kristin

The Damaged part 2

If you haven’t read PART 1 yet, please read it before this post.

“You can recognize survivors of abuse by their courage. When silence is so very inviting, they step forward and share their truth so others know they aren’t alone.”

Let’s finish this up. Hopefully no one had a heart attack with Part 1. Ummm, I about did, but I am just hoping and praying people understand why I had to write it. Because you won’t understand what comes next and my particular mindset without those pieces of information. This is the longest post I have written on my blog so there will be no pictures, just words.

Aftermath

Where do I begin? I didn’t go to the police. I could barely remember what happened and I felt humiliated and ashamed. I thought I had been safe enough. But I hadn’t. It didn’t even seem real. And deep down inside I knew that it must have somehow ben my fault. It had to have been right? I remember exactly what I was wearing. Jeans and a cute black top. Nothing crazy. He was a predator and I got caught in his trap. I don’t even remember his name. I blocked him out. But the damage was done. I started drinking. I have never done illegal drugs, but I used my prescription drugs as my biggest escape, often accompanied with alcohol. I didn’t deserve to live with the thoughts and images that would run through my mind. So I made my first “official” attempt to take my life. I had no idea what I was doing and it didn’t work. My parents caught it early enough that the ER was able to administer the nastiest black charcoal down my throat to absorb the pills. I was hospitalized for a short time in a nearby hospital’s mental health unit but released within 4 days. And after that I realized I didn’t know much about trying to take my life and a few pills wasn’t going to cut it. There was another attempt in between, I can’t remember, really. They are all blurred together. I know that I did take an entire bottle of my benzodiazepines which resulted in a 4 month memory loss. <– THAT was interesting for sure! I was dating a bunch of guys at the time and I think 3 or 4 of them were named Jared. Very confusing because they came to visit me in the hospital and I had no idea who they were. I become a great actress and pretended like I knew what was happening in my life. I failed miserably.

I was living in an alternate reality. Because I had tried to overdose on all my prescription medications, I couldn’t get access to anything stronger. So for my final attempt that year I just took what was available. Almost an entire bottle of aspirin mixed with alcohol. After that I remember waking up in the ICU. I don’t know how I got there, but I knew that I was mad that I was still alive. My parents weren’t there and I panicked. I started to pull out the IV in my left arm and an orderly came in to try and stop me. It was then I noticed that I couldn’t hear out of my right ear. And that entire right side of my body was numb. I had damaged my liver so bad by using the worst thing ever …. Aspirin. My liver has never been the same, but thankfully my hearing returned and most of the nerve damage is gone. Except for in my left hand where I pulled out my IV.

When the orderly tried to stop me I ended up fighting back, screaming for my parents – and apparently I kicked him pretty hard. Well, it just so happens that they decided to call the police. They determined I was ready to be released to another Mental Health Facility and I got handcuffed and put in the back of the Sherriff’s police car. I was angry. REALLY angry. Mostly that I was still alive. It was a 40 minute drive to the hospital so while I was sitting in the back of the police car I decided it would be fun to get out of the handcuffs and surprise the Sheriff. He had been really mean in the first place. So I got out of the handcuffs after 20 minutes of trying. I still have the scars on my wrists from using the handcuffs to cut through my skin to get out. Once he stopped the police car I opened my door and he freaked out because I took off. But I soon realized that I wasn’t going to get very far so I walked back. He was NOT happy. Anyway. I was admitted to the University of Utah’s Neuropsychiatric Unit. (UNI). Out of all my hospitalizations I have had in the past 13 years this is BY FAR the best Mental Hospital out there. This may sound crazy (me recommending a Psych Hospital), but who knows, right? If you or one of your family members are ever in a position to need the help of that type of hospital and you happen to be in Utah. Take them to UNI. Don’t even mess around with anywhere else. It is a really great facility! I spent quite a long time there. They got me on a medication that actually helped. And by the time I was released I felt changed. The “changed” part didn’t last long. But the medication did. I am currently still on the same medicine they gave me at UNI. It has saved my life.

From then on I only dated the damaged. And that is putting it kindly. They are really the only people that I thought would understand the experiences that I suffered. I would never be put in a situation like that again so I only dated people that I thought needed saving because they were worse off than me. I would be in charge of the relationship and have power and control over everything that happened from then on out. But when two damaged people get in to a relationship, what do you think the outcomes are? I can tell you. Nothing good.

I met Jay* at a movie. I was there with a bunch of girlfriends and they dared me to go sit next to this group of guys 4 rows below us. Well I never backed away from a challenge so I went and sat next to him and struck up a conversation. I would have never guessed that we would date each other on and off for almost two years. I know that one of the reasons I always went back to him after our short break ups was because his family had taken me in. I was treated like a daughter and as a family they were always doing fun and crazy things. But another reason? They took care of each other. No one messed with them. His dad had influence and money, and they collected guns. In fact, Jay always kept one in his car. He told me that no one would hurt me ever again, and if he knew then men who had hurt me, he would kill them. Coming from him it wasn’t an idle threat. And for a time it made me feel safe.

Over time though I would have moments when I would wake up and realize how bad the relationship was. We were both drunk all the time. We were completely co-dependent and we had broken up and gotten back together more than 10 times. Then one day I decided I had finally had enough. We were in a toxic relationship and I couldn’t take it anymore. It had been two years, I was almost 21 and I was ready to move on. So I made it official. I moved into an apartment with a friend and didn’t tell him where. The phone calls from him became non-stop. Every day I would get at least 10 messages crying for me to take him back. Then one day I listened to a message “Kristin, I wont do this. I won’t live without you in my life. It just isn’t worth it. I would rather be dead, so that is what’s going to happen if you don’t come back to me.” Classic manipulation right? But I had obviously cared about him for long enough and didn’t want him to hurt himself. So I met him a couple times that week to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. In my mind, I was clear to make sure he knew that we weren’t getting back together, I just don’t think his mind would accept the fact. And I know he didn’t think it was a possibility that I would ever really be gone. I had always come back to him after our breakups. Why not this time?

I had begun dating other people. I was trying to enjoy my life. And the phone calls finally started to slow down. Then one day his sister called me and I knew it had to be bad. So he and I agreed to meet in my works parking lot. I got in his truck to talk to him. Of anyone, I knew what it felt like to feel suicidal. We drove around for a while talking and during our conversation I got a phone call from one of the people I was dating. He knew that I was meeting Jay, and wanted to make sure I was doing okay. Well, that was the WORST time for the phone call because the conversation between Jay and I wasn’t going well.

As much as I wanted to save him from himself, this time would be different. I wouldn’t allow myself to be pulled back in to our relationship. I answered the phone because we had what I thought was a safety plan in place. I had a quick conversation with the guy. I let him know where I was. Hinted to him that things were getting bad. Then I hung up. And that is when things went from bad to beyond worse.

“Is that him Kristin? Is that the new guy trying to take my place? You know he will never treat you as well as I can right? Why do you even bother? Just come back to me.”

I responded quite but firmly that it was over. We were done. I think in Jay’s mind it finally set in. It was over. I had moved on. But he had told me before. He wouldn’t live without me. I just had never really taken it as seriously as I should. He had never been a physically violent person TO ME. But he was extremely possessive and mentally abusive. I had known that all along.

I asked him to please take me back to my car. I remember the exact road we were driving down. Two lanes on one side, two lanes on the other. Thankfully it was pretty late at night by this time when he decided to cross the center lane putting us directly in line with oncoming traffic. He gunned his truck as fast as it would go. And it could go FAST. He was a mechanic and had upgraded every part possible. He weaved in and out of the traffic while I screamed and begged him to stop. I’m sure by that point we were going about 70-80 miles per hour, maybe more. I don’t know what saved us. Actually, I do, but they are not of this world, but they try and watch out for me the best they can.

At any time he could have driven the truck off the side of the road and we would have flipped. But he just kept gunning the truck and weaving in and out of the cars driving straight for us. I was screaming at him to stop. That I would do anything to make him stop. “THEN stop dating other guys.” Okay. “We are meant to be together” Sure, I know we are. “I know you love me.” Of course I do. It seemed to calm him down and he moved back to to the correct lane. As we got about a mile away back in the direction to my work he let his truck slow down. He puled to where I had parked at work and I kid you not.

Jay, “So what are we doing tomorrow? We are going out right?”. Ummmmmm. WHAT??? NO! Are you kidding me? You just about killed us!! “But you said things would be fine. You said WE would be fine.” Of course I did. I would do anything to make you stop. — Okay, WHY did I say anything? I just should have gone along with it. I saw the rage light back up in his eyes. The truck had stopped so I got out an ran. I couldn’t find the keys to my car, but I was the manage er my office and I did find the keys to my work. I ran to the door and unlocked the deadbolts as fast as I could. As soon as I got in I disabled the security alarm and immediately reset it to arm. Thankfully he stayed in his truck.

Looking back I can realize how naive I really was. I was just 21 years old but at that point it felt like I had a lifetime of experiences. I can look back now and see the slow progression into the very emotional and psychological abusive relationship Jay and I had. Years of abuse, manipulation and control.

He could see me through the floor to ceiling glass windows at my work and I made a phone call from the landline inside. My cell phone was almost dead. Like a scene out of a freaking horror movie. I don’t know how many minutes went by, but I know he saw me make the call and he finally he drove away. I’m sure he thought I had called the police. I hadn’t. The city I worked in was where Jay lived. Most of the police in that neighborhood were his families friends. They had been to his house for big neighborhood BBQ’s. Remember the influence his family had? There was no way I was going to risk it. There were other reasons I had issues trusting the police from years before. Thinking back there are so many stories from the time I was 16-20 that would blow your mind. Maybe I will write those later. Well, you know I will but not yet.

My phone call was actually to the guy friend I was dating. I let him know where I was and that I was locked in at my work. That Jay decided to drive away. I found my car keys. Walked carefully to my car and drove home. I got to my apartment, laid down and shook for hours. And I didn’t hear from him again for over a month.

Can I tell you what is amazing (that actually makes me cry more than the awful things that have happened over that 2 years)? After all that, God sent someone to save me. He came into my life and helped heal my soul. He is my rock. He is what keeps me tethered to this world. God knew what I needed, He always has. And He sent me one of the greatest men that have ever existed on the face of this earth. The day Seth and I met, my SOUL KNEW his soul. I sat next to him and I couldn’t stop the rush of electricity that overtook my body. I could finally breathe. I thank God for him every single day. That is the beauty in all this. I went through Hell to be introduced to Heaven. Which I see in the face of my husband and my little girls. Utter Heaven.

I will tell how Seth and I met in another post because I don’t want it to be part of this one. Needless to say I met Seth and I KNEW. I knew we were meant to be within a matter of hours. He took a little more convincing. But it was decided. We were getting married.

Jay’s story isn’t over. He found out I was getting married and his life crumbled. I got a voicemail from him asking if it was true. And that his life was over if it was. So I made what would be my final phone call to him. He answered and he sounded sick, but calm at the same time. I told him that yes, I was getting married. He took a big sigh and told me that he hoped I would be happy. And I told him that I was. Then I heard a bunch of metal hitting metal. Bullets. I heard the cylinder of his revolver spin and click in to place. Then I heard the trigger being pulled. No shot went off. The gun had misfired. Maybe in his rush to get the bullets in they didn’t go in properly. I didn’t plead with him anymore. I was tired. We had played this game too many times. So I told him I was sorry and I hung up the phone.

And that was that. I never heard from him again. Occasionally I would search the obituaries to see if his name was listed. It never was, so I knew he was around. To this day he still affects my life and decisions. I am scared of him. I am scared for me and for my family. Especially in the first few years of our marriage. I was worried about what he would do to Seth more than me. Seth is this amazing soul and there was no way I was going to let him get pulled in to that world. I have seen Jay on 3 different occasions over the last 10 years. The last time I saw him was in 2010. Eight years after that experience. I had just had my 2nd daughter and we were at the County Far. I was pushing my daughter in her stroller and we came up to a booth and I could hear his voice. It is very distinctive and a voice I will never forget in my lifetime. Apparently he had quit his job as a mechanic and started working the family business. No surprise there. What is crazy is the minute I heard his voice and my eyes saw his face I didn’t hesitate. I left the stroller and I turned around and ran. He didn’t see me, thank goodness and don’t think I’m a bad mom … Let me explain. Seth was right behind me with our oldest daughter and he grabbed the stroller and came over to where I had stopped. Keep in mind. THIS IS EIGHT YEARS LATER! All Seth said to me was “Is it him?” I nodded, and we left. And I had nightmares and didn’t leave my house for weeks.

In all of this I never mentioned that my friend (that I had called after the attempted assault) ended up stalking me for three years and Seth actually had to get involved in that one. Jay’s story is hard enough to tell without Max* being thrown in to the mix as well. I attracted the weirdest people during that time, my goodness. Another day.

Anyway. I feel the safest I have ever felt now. And it is because I live a state away from all the madness. I know I am not going to run in to either of them at the store. I’m not going to see them. The nightmares have almost stopped. Thankfully after I saw Jay at the fair in 2010 Seth got in to Pharmacy School and we moved away. It is the biggest relief ever.

I have looked him up on Facebook twice now. He has never married. But I looked before I wrote this and it looks like he and a girlfriend just had a baby. Good for him. I hope he is happy. And I hope he never thinks about me. An angry Jay is someone no one should ever have to be around. I pray for them.

I hope my family will understand why I feel I can never move back to that part of Utah. I didn’t have a life when I lived there. I stayed inside and let it eat me alive. So let me have my space for now and give me more time to heal.

*Names have been changed for my family’s safety.

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Growing Pains

I always wondered what it would be like to be one of “those people” who always talk about how much they loved high school. And how they would love to relive it again. Are you kidding me? Seriously? High School is one of the most traumatizing events of a persons life. It was for me anyway. I’m not sure my theory of the connection between brain injury and hormones can be validated with science, but for me, that is when everything fell apart.

Being a 13 year old is such an awkward age. You are trying to find your identity. But really you get lost in what others think of you. And if what they think is either good or bad, then that must be who you are. Well, at least that was the case for me. Turning 13 was a game changer. I fell in with the popular crowd somehow, but I was always an outsider. This story is really painful, and I don’t know how to retell it at all. I’m not even sure there are words to describe it. But here it is, I did something impulsive, something not in line with who I was. I said something mean about a boy to one of my friends, and somehow word got back to him. And then that boy decided to make my life a living hell. To be honest, I am still afraid of running into him to this day. I was bullied to a point that I was scared to go to school. And it continued from Junior High well into High School. I never understood how that one thing that I said, one thing, could make such an impact on his life that he could take it out on me for years. How do you hold on to the hate for so long?

He decided to give me a name, an ugly one that I won’t repeat. Every where I would go, in the halls, when I walked into a class, he would yell or say this name. And everyone knew that it was meant for me, and they would all laugh. Because he was the most popular boy in school, and they just wanted to fit in. Just like I did. To be honest, they were probably just grateful that it wasn’t them. I wished I was invisible. I wished I would just die, and I came up with scenario after scenario of different ways that I could make it happen. Not a day went by that I didn’t hear that name being called. It finally died down my junior year of high school. I guess the novelty of it wore off. But the damage was done.

I became obsessed. Obsessed with my weight, how I looked each day, what I wore. My OCD swept into high gear. There would be days that I couldn’t get my hair to look perfect, so I would get in the shower and do it all again, and again. I couldn’t leave the house until it was perfect. I remember forgetting my earrings one day and I went in to full meltdown mode. I drove myself home in the middle of school -who cares that I missed biology- I just had to get my earrings so the anxiety would subside.

My parents recognized that I changed. That they didn’t know who I was anymore. We went to therapy. It helped for a while. I was prescribed my first depression and anxiety medication. I was just 16. Now we are treading into scary territory for me. You would think with all the things I had talked about in this blog, that being honest about all this wouldn’t be a problem. But this still hurts. So, since I couldn’t figure out how to to take my life, I found another way to relieve the pain, by inflicting it upon myself. I mean, didn’t I deserve it? I was the one who started it right? I called the boy a name and so it was all my fault. I deserved the pain. I began something that people call cutting. It actually started by accident. I cut myself shaving my legs and the pain took over and stopped all my racing thoughts. So it became part of my life. The scars are still there, and the cutting only stopped a short time ago. Any time I have a high amount of stress in my life, unfortunately I am always drawn back to it.

The perfectionist in me needed to be in control. And in addition to cutting, food took center stage. Portion control, starving myself. Then one day, full on bulimia. That part didn’t actually start until I was in my 20’s. And this will be news to almost everyone except my husband – that I suffered with bulimia on and off for 7 years. Now, I want to address this right. These are hard things. So here is a little bit of information.

From a noted Psychologist, “We can go to any school and ask, ‘Do you know anyone who cuts?’ Yeah, everybody knows someone, and very often, kids who self-harm have an eating disorder. Many are sensitive, perfectionists, overachievers. The self-injury begins as a defense against what’s going on in their lives. They have failed in one area of their lives, so this is a way to get control.”

“Self-injury can also be a symptom for psychiatric problems like borderline personality disorder (sound familiar?) anxiety disorder, bipolar or schizophrenia. Yet many kids who self-injure are simply ‘regular kids’ going through the adolescent struggle for self-identity. They’re experimenting. I hate to call it a phase, because I don’t want to minimize it. It’s kind of like kids who start using drugs, doing dangerous things.”

I am pleading with you! If you know someone who is starting down this path. If you are recognizing even the littlest of signs. Don’t ignore it. Get them proper help! This has ramifications far beyond the teenage years.1-800-273-TALK is a really great resource available 24 hours a day. All I know is that I wanted to find someone that understood. If you aren’t that person, figure out a way to become it. Get educated and arm yourself with knowledge, compassion and love. And if you are the person who this describe please know, You are NOT alone. We understand, and there is help for you!