My High School Bully
The outreach began this month, “Hi Kelly. This is _____ from ____. I am helping build a database of alums. October of 2024 will mark the 30th anniversary of _______’s passing. The family are planning a tribute and would like to include anyone who was on the team with her. Could you please send me your contact information (address, email, phone number)? We are hoping to send out save the dates this spring. Thank you. I hope you're doing well.”
Of course every major milestone begs to be recognized. As a friend recently said more eloquently, “The dead demand our attention.”
The deceased in this case, was the captain of the drill team - a senior. I was a junior, the first junior lieutenant in the school’s history. And, because the senior captain’s friend didn’t get a spot on the officer squad, I paid for it. I was isolated, made fun of, given wrong information, and generally set up to fail as often as possible. Publicly, if anyone was looking, she was sweet as pie. The moment we were unwatched, she was hateful and terrible. The most extreme act? The tires on my car were slashed by her friends. I was taunted and bullied from the day I made it onto the officer squad until the night she was killed. Her boyfriend wrapped her around a tree in a grisly, horrible drunk driving accident. He walked away. She paid with her life.
I grieved for her. She had family who loved her and dear friends who adored her. I spent the rest of my high school career dancing tributes to her memory, publicly expressing shock and sorrow, and privately wrestling with guilt. I can’t deny feeling relief from the daily abuse she heaped on me in life. Her family is wealthy and powerful in the community. It was terrifying to have an over-privileged princess focus her hate on me. I didn’t want it then, and I don’t want it now.
I had the gift of growing up. She did not. Who knows what kind of person she would have turned out to be?
As a mother, I can all too clearly imagine the anguish and forever grief of losing a child. We say things like. “I can’t imagine…” Bullshit. The moment I held my eldest child in my arms I also held the key to unlocking the wildest and most terrifying aspects of my imagination. I can perfectly visualize awful scenes. With parenthood comes worry. I grieve for her parents carrying the loss.
My bully taught me valuable lessons about how power is abused within a system. Before her, I was naive; I hadn’t experienced people actively being mean and destructive. I couldn’t fathom exerting energy that way. I still have a hard time comprehending the waste of energy expended by the vicious.
I haven’t talked about my bully with many people. It felt wrong. I’m alive. I am grateful. But silence doesn’t serve anyone, especially centered around complex feelings and relationships. I would have benefited from closure and counseling back then.
I still can.
I’m learning to let go.
Perhaps, as this dark remembering comes around, I will finally do just that - I will let her go.
“My High School Bully” is written by Kelly King, an embodied joy strategist who is creating movement-based mindfulness on her path. She is a co-leader, co-conspirator, and master strategist in The Movement Movement, offering clients her visionary leadership skills while guiding them toward alignment. Together, with Leah Williams and Vincenza Illiano, we audaciously model collaborative leadership for our clients.