Sorry, not sorry.

The bullying started at school at the age of 7 years old, it slowly crept into the church youth group where my school ‘friends’ hung out. My home was safe but my parents really did not know how to handle the situation, so I went inward and blamed the bullying on myself.

I wasn’t strong enough, good enough, I was ugly, fat and stupid, that’s what I was told and I believed them, it was my fault.

My Dad decided one Saturday to take matters into his own hands, tired of the complaints of an emotional 8-year-old girl he ordered Mum and myself into our 1980’s Kermit green Vauxhall, we went to the home of the biggest bully, Karen, her real name (Yep, if only I knew what a “Karen” would mean in 2020).

I remember sitting in the kitchen of her home, the chair was hard and I sat with my back against the wall. Karen was sitting across the room, to the left of me were her parents, leaning against the cream cabinets. My Dad rambled as he angrily described what was happening on the playground, within the school walls and over the dining hall table. I was told to tell my version of the story, then told to shut up by my father as I described another girl who was being bullied too. “We are not here to talk about her”. 

Her mother replied that “I know she has a bad mouth, but I am not going to change it, she is going to need it in this world”. Karen’s face was drenched in tears, this was absolute madness.

Make this stop! There was only one thing my poor broken heart told me to do.

I ran over to her and hugged her “I am so sorry Karen, I am sorry” I held her until my Dad dragged me off her ranting that “this was a waste of time”. I was frog marched to the car carried by words of “you shouldn’t have done that, why?” Of course my answer was simple “I am sorry”.

This became my MO. Stop the madness, stop the conflict by blaming yourself, then fixing it by saying sorry. It would then end…… conflict over.

40 years later the angry man began to point the finger of blame, a father figure determined to crush me, show his power. The bumbling 8 year old sobbed tears of self blame, shame, regret whilst trying to understand how someone who she considered a trusted friend was so, so cruel.

Stop the madness! “I am sorry”.


Not sorry, 

Not one damn bit sorry.

I will no longer take on the responsibility of others and blame myself for their actions

Thanks Dad I have got this now, I can deal with the bullies.