heavy lifting

Last night I went swing dancing. I’m finding that movement and especially dancing is an marvelous way to release emotion that is causing me to obsess in my body. It was a highly enlightening, fun and enchanting experience.

By tapping into the bilateral movements, stimulating both sides of my brain-I was able to take these feelings I was harboring and these memories I was playing on repeat and have them finally lay to rest in a productive way. I find running to be similar. It at least offers me clarity. And a new perspective.

Which is why I was really quite amazed when a strange memory popped up after the dance session.

And the feeling that went along with it wasn’t so harsh yet the thought processes and state of being were very much still ingrained into my very being


I haven’t felt such a vivid, powerful hatred in so long. Mostly because it was a genuine, decade long memory of when my entire 6th grade class hated me.

What happened is I stood up for myself during a sadistic online bullying attack. And in the process, I said something mean to my bully. Which caused the whole class to start retaliating against me, telling me everyone hated me, ostracized, more sever online bullying, death threats, isolation, interference with my school work and no where to eat at lunch, lies and rumors being spread about me…


I remember the day I walked into class and literally everyone was looking at me with hate in their eyes. I was the girl who stood up for herself. I was the one who said something. I was the one who fought back.

And that meant I was to be hated to the point of no return.


This memory is nearly 11 years old. These feelings have been so tragically buried down deep that when I realized I still harbored this hate and this trailing fear of being punished for being who I am–bigotry-standing up for myself–etc. It was like I was lifting a corpse from my soul.

I had to become dead in order to survive. That shell of who I was got me through 6th grade. And she’s the one who sustained middle school torture. And the residual fact is she’s the reason why I have issues with love and acceptance of my self and being secure with who I am—and in general relationships and all that codependency fun stuff.

I think once I reprocess these feelings, this trauma of middle school maybe I’ll be ready for people. To be intimate with them the way I’ve always wanted.

Maybe. If I’m lucky.


One thought on “heavy lifting

  1. you’ll be lucky

    this is strangely similar to an episode that happened to me in 6th grade as well. entire class hated me overnight, but my memory is approaching 25 years old. and it’s still on my “to-get-to” list with my therapist, although i did bring it up once. one day, step, layer at a time. 🙂


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