This post is a personal share about some formative experiences I had growing up. My hope is that some people who read it will relate to the experience and find comfort, peace, and camaraderie in our common background. I also hope that others will read it, who may not have had their own similar experience, but who are able to understand and connect with my background at a new level of depth and understanding.
To understand who I am and how I got to be this way, it’s important for you to know about my experience of being bullied as a kid and feeling like an outsider in the school system where I grew up. It’s important for you to know the effects it had on me, the lessons it taught me, and the ways that the experience led to my particular set of challenges and growth edges.
Growing Up Bullied
I grew up in a Christian private school in suburban New Jersey, mostly ethnically homogenous. Not quite as conservative as it gets, but decidedly Republican. It’s a bit of a chicken-and-egg question to ask which came first, my feeling socially ostracized or my lean into qualities that make me stick out. The two phenomena developed in tandem, but for sure I didn’t fit the mold I would have needed to in order to fit in. I stopped trying to fit the mold at a young age.
The things my peers picked on had mostly to do with my nerdiness - I was pretty bookish in school, and I distinctly remember one girl making fun of me for “asking so many questions in science class… it’s gross!” In ego-defense, I grew a know-it-all attitude that I now regret - it led to a stand-offishness that kept me separated from many peers for years. Specifically, my attitude was a defensive posture that came out when I felt the threat of being made fun of, either by those who had already made fun of me previously or by those whom I stereotyped as belonging to the same group as my bullies. If you’re reading this as someone from my past whom I lashed out at while I was in that defensive posture, I’m sorry. If you reach out to me now, I’ll probably welcome a warm heart-to-heart and repair conversation.
Throughout elementary school, almost every year, the person I considered to be my best friend decided they didn’t want me hanging out with them anymore and distanced themself from me. I can only guess about the reasons. I’m guessing that they were trying to fit in with a group who didn’t think I was cool enough, so my former friends felt that I was getting in the way. They dropped me. Like most kids in painful situations, I didn’t understand what was happening or why, so I developed a distorted explanation for the abandonment and adopted behavioral patterns to protect me from that pain, even though those same behavioral patterns would block me from intimacy later in life. I developed the belief that I was inherently weird in a way that I would never be accepted by a group for being my true self - that to be accepted I’d have to keep my mouth shut and dress like everybody else. I grew to expect social rejection. I also came to believe that I had chased my friends away through being too emotionally needy or clingy, so I developed a tendency to bury or quiet my own emotions and desires, particularly if they might conflict with those of someone I feel attached to. I hoped that through agreeability, I could avoid chasing people away - the cost of that agreeability was self-abandonment in close relationships.
Puberty And Childhood Crushes
As puberty came along, these issues with my self-image got mixed in with beliefs about my own sexuality. During middle school years, as kids started having crushes on each other, I repeatedly felt crushes on people who didn't like me back and stopped wanting to be near me or talk to me once they found out. I rationalized the rejection with the same story that I was fundamentally unworthy of love and belonging. Additionally, the rejection was frequently an abrupt reaction from starting to develop a friendship. I had crushes on people I had been connecting with and growing emotionally close to, but once they found out I had romantic feelings for them, they would act disgusted, conspicuously distancing themselves from me. I adopted the belief that my eroticsssssss feelings were inherently repulsive and something to hide and be ashamed of. In later years, that belief mixed with my fear of being toxically masculine - I worried that male sexuality was inherently predatory, and that my attraction would be offensive if it ever showed. I learned to avert my gaze before attraction showed in my eyes, even while remaining vulnerable with my other emotions. Needless to say, that hiding reflex made flirting impossible.
And yet, in spite of having faced so many disappointing rejections, there was one crush I had during middle school years that felt entirely different and special. For anonymity, let’s call her Jenna. We got to be friends in 6th grade, when we rode the bus together and we were in the same science class together. For the first time in years, it felt like being my authentic, nerdy, quirky self was a boon to the relationship, not a liability. Jenna laughed wholeheartedly at my clever jokes, and came back with her own. We sat next to each other in science class with our hands up the whole time, seeing who could answer more questions from the teacher or ask more interesting questions of our own. Our bond stemmed from connecting in an authentic way based on who we authentically were, and it felt like the sun was shining for the first time in my life. I didn’t realize until the end of the year that I had a crush on her, and at that point I didn’t have the guts to tell her and risk her pulling back, the way my other crushes had. I never got a chance to tell her. That summer, Jenna moved to another country, and I never saw her again. For years, I believed that I’d never meet someone else whom I connected with so genuinely and would fall for that same way.
Effect on Marriage
Many years and several relationships later, I can trace back how those early wounds from bullying and disappointing crushes were continuing to affect each romantic relationship. Each relationship in some way, but particularly my ex-marriage. While the marriage had issues coming from both sides, I’m only going to talk about the ones that I brought to the table.
Throughout life, I’ve been motivated to reach out and befriend others who were left alone and could benefit from companionship. In a sense, it was a form of self-love. It would send the message, “you’re worthy of love and acceptance just like I’m worthy of love and acceptance.” I also felt a sense of safety and camaraderie with others who had the common experience of being excluded. However, there was a shadow side to these tendencies as well. Because of my low self-esteem, I’d go into relationships with the bias that, “because you’re loving and accepting of me, you must have settled, and there must also be something wrong with you that made you unworthy of social acceptance.” My ex-wife is one of the people onto whom I projected this low self-esteem, and it hurt her a ton. I feel sorry for that.
My tendency to self-abandon my desire also showed up big time in my marriage. I was scared of losing the relationship with my ex-wife, since before we were even married. That fear led me to try really hard to be the partner she wanted me to be and to try to live the life that she wanted, even when that compromised my own desires. I was monogamous, I avoided hobbies that were too dangerous for her (e.g. motorcycling), I avoided hobbies (e.g. nude modeling) that felt ashamed of, I made a marriage proposal that I wasn’t authentically ready for, I stayed in software engineering past the point that it felt the need to move on, because software engineering was my only career option to afford the lifestyle she wanted. My governing purpose in life was to avoid upsetting or disappointing her, and living life that way led me to depression. I ended up as a pretty boring and uninspired partner for her, and the relationship was pretty unhappy for both of us. She deserves to have a partner who is excited to live life the way she also wants to, and I hope she can find a partnership like that now.
A Path of Growth
Since the divorce, I’ve been on a path of tremendous growth. I’ve been polyamorous and exploring my erotic self wholeheartedly. I’ve been discovering what is unique about me and learning to find relationships that are built on sharing those unique qualities and supporting each other to be more of who we want to be. I’m discovering what aspects of a relationship truly make me feel secure and encourage me to grow. I’ve taken on the name Sage to celebrate the aspects of my current self that I appreciate and to orient me toward the qualities I hope to develop over time. I’m learning to turn my desires into words and actions, rather than pacifying or burying them. Acting on desires leaves me vulnerable to disappointment and heartbreak, and it also opens up the possibility for my dreams to come true.
At some point, I’ll probably pick up the thread about my path of growth and write a follow-up post. There’s a lot here. For now, I’ll leave the thread open to likes and discussion. Please feel free to reach out to me if there’s anything in this post that resonates with you or that you have questions about!
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About the Author
I’m a Sex & Relationship Coach trained in the Somatica method. Come work with me to learn and practice skills that help you with dating and building new intimate relationships, spicing up your erotic connections, and deepening the connection you have with your existing lovers or partners.
If you'd like to work with me, feel free to contact me with questions or book a 30 minute consultation call.
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