In high school, my all-girls friendship group bullied me for being weird. I was outgoing, funnily confident, had decidedly strange table manners, was topping English (not maths or science) and desperately wanted assurance for a lot of things. My friendship group were all Australian-born Asian girls. I chose their circle because I wanted to do well in school and did not feel I would fit in with the heavy chested beach blondes who attracted the neighbouring brother schools.

Being bullied by your own people is not enjoyable. It was the war-of-attrition kind, whereby they ignore you and refuse to acknowledge anything you’ve said. They did not spread rumours or spack poison into my face, rather they did it behind my back.

It was horrible.

In Year 9 I spent most of my lunch times up in the music rooms playing guitar and working on songs I was writing. It was incredibly lonely, but I preferred avoiding their cattiness and shrouding myself in denial and the comfort my ignorance brought. 

I turned the age of 14 on the 14th of March, 2002. Aside from the obligatory flowers and cards which was tradition from friendship groups at my school, I knew my friends had an issue with me. It was the worst birthday ever. Cards were signed off with “From Caty” instead of the usual “Love, Annabelle etc.”. You may be thinking “wow, that was nice of them to still give you flowers! However being on the receiving end of obligation because they don’t want the rest of the school to talk is about as lovely as eating sewerage flavoured tar. I still remember Caty’s* wry half-smile that I wish she hadn’t even bothered with!

As the days progressed I would try and ask what was wrong by waiting til I could be alone with each of them, but would receive either a frosty shoulder or a smiling, impervious facade. After my perseverance only led to dead-ends, my frustration convinced me that it was all in my head and that my ‘group’ did not hate me. 

However a few weeks later the ring leader of the ‘group’ cracked and admitted that they all found me really annoying! I erased much of the detail  from my memory, but I recall their ostracism to be justified by that I was ‘a little bit up myself’ and I ‘ate funny’. At the time I was dreadfully sorry, also wondering if I should have expected them to be a bit more mature and just politely confront me about it. However confrontation takes love, and I accept that high school was devoid of such virtue.

Now I am 25. I keep in touch with 1 of 7 of these girls through Instagram. After finding real, authentic lifelong sisters through university and my relationship with Jesus, I look back on that experience as a 14 year old and conclude that every person is bound to be talked of, excluded, ostracised, all just because you are a little bit different. If it had not been for my English and Music teachers in secondary I would not be the determined Creative Youth Worker I am today!

From the central place of my heart, the Lord picked me up and provided the most amazing people for me to return to His arms. And it is from this place that I am honestly healed, free, unafraid to be vulnerable, and wide open to share my story.

I wanted to share this because I know some of this tumblr’s followers are still in High School. And I don’t envy you! They are extremely difficult years! You are growing, changing, developing physically and emotionally, probably have boyfriends or girlfriends and ready to spit the dummy at your parentals. 

Take heart - I promise you, it gets better x

You are my joy!
You grant me every spiritual blessing in Christ:
Bridesmaid to disciples!
Creative fruits hard pressed til they are juices drunk by youth
Daily battle training
For my hands and fingers
Until my feet beautify as bringers of harmonic heralds,
Trumpets sounding loudly
Deafening your ears
Because this joy is so overwhelming!
Oh Lord, You are my Guide
As we dance to the angelic percussive choir!
Harp and lyre
I pause,
While You take my hand
Spin me around
To arc back
into the profound strength
of Your palm.

If I could give Womanhood one thing, be it a resource, a quality or ability, 

I would give her a revelation

that she desperately needs her community. 

I picture Doo Wop girls and B-boys

crowding around her, clicking them fingers

Back-up singing about the day she became acquainted with her companion. 

They’d be like octo-eyes, a multi-mirrored room 

Ruthlessly loving her with honest lyrics

As she’d step beside her groom.

But on her actual wedding day 

As she’d look into her recently acquired Husband’s eyes

She will cry

For reasons not unbeknownst to us, 

But in the mere overwhelming flood of emotions from being so 

intricately known:

All the details about her life

can be safely, comfortably, freely broadcasted - not just in the world wide web’s haphazard social media fabric

but in the constant, weekly, monthly, annual celebrations of every occasion 

from her birthday to her high school graduation to the day she met the love of her life.

Darling Miss Womanhood, I command you 

that even when your wishes are granted to find your once elusive “One”

Whom now sits across from you, picks you up from work, buys you a house, watches 3 seasons of Suits alongside you and stares into your eyes

It is the festive throng of surrounding Doo Wop girls and boys 

singing’ bass and tenor lines celebrating your romance

That’ll amplify the spice of your days

and your nights! (So let them.)