Melanie shared her story here before back in June of last year call Their Taunts and Insults. It was a powerful story and as we all do, we hope when we share our story we can let it go. But for many, it’s just not that easy. Now Melanie has shared her feelings again with us and is asking for some help. Please share your thoughts with her as she looks to the community for support. ~Alan Eisenberg
I do not know what to do. I thought after I told my story, that I can leave it all behind me. But I was wrong.
Memories haunt me in my dreams. I can think back on so many things.
Like the saying, “If you’d lived to Hitlers times, he would have gassed you with joy!”
And the terrible insults. “Witch, monster, freak, bitch, human being without friends, emo, ghost, ugly, fat …”. The rape threats. The one time where I was beaten. When they gave me the blame for everything.
The consequences of the years of bullying are serious.
Depression. Fear of humans. Suicidal thoughts. Suicide attempts. And so much more.
Twelve years. So many years have passed. And instead of that something has improved, it got worse.
I work for a year as volunteer assistant in a hospital (We call it Freiwilliges Soziales Jahr.).
I do help out in the mother + child Station. It’s fun to take care of the mothers and babies. To grant them any wish they have. If only that bullying would not be.
I do not know what I did wrong.
Every day I have a good mood. Every day I smile, I grin … Always be polite. I do whatever I’m told. I want to do everything right. Question, if I do not understand something.
I do my daily routine. Cleaned baby changing tables. Put clothes together. Distribute water and glasses. But every day I’ll be scolded. I clean the room not right when a Mom goes home. I order too much breakfast. If I do not know where something is stored, it is said again and again that I should know, after two months, where it should be. But if no one shows me where things are, I can not know that.
When I once asked if I could see a birth, came the answer that I would be immature. That it will be a treat. IF I work well. Also I was told that I am dependent. When I asked for examples, they said they had none.
They bully my personality,too. I have the level of a cat. I would like to get an education as a bilingual secretary. Or as a translator. To which came the reply that the level was too high for me. They also call me childish. Because I was running with a Santa hat through the Station. But I must say that the mothers liked it. They smiled and laughed and had so much fun. My colleagues say that it’s fun to see me suffer.
I have already complained. Attempts were made to clarify the conflict, but that never happened. I was described as the worst employee. In the end I have to say I was ashamed. And it got worse. The bullying.
Every day I go to work with stomach ache. Inwardly, I cry. Outwardly, I smile. But it takes a lot of strength. And right now, I fall apart. I have nothing to live for. Sometimes I wonder “Why are you still here?”. But then I think to myself, I am nothing. No one sees me. No one hears me. No one would notice if I was not there anymore. But I can not. I do not know what keeps me. But it’s there.
Sometimes I wonder, “Why do not run away? Relocate to another country? Begin a new life? And forget everything what happened?”
Nobody knows how much I suffer. And I need help.
I start a psychotherapy. But my fear is great that it does not help me.
Thanks for listening.