How I Learned to Stop Bullying Myself

I was my own worst enemy, but I found six ways to save my life

For years, my classmates told me that no one loved me. They laughed at me, spat on me, and punched me daily. The bruises from their assaults healed, but their words have shaped my entire life.

I’m saddened to say the most painful words came from myself. Every night after school, I’d berate myself for being a coward. I’d call myself fat, ugly, weak, and disgusting. I continued the abuse at home that the bullies had started at school.

My dad made the situation worse despite his good intentions. He said many of the things out loud that I was thinking. He didn’t understand why I wouldn’t stand up for myself. He offered to take me to Boxing lessons, change my appearance, and buy me new clothes.

Everything he suggested was so far from my comfort zone that it felt impossible. How can someone afraid of physical confrontation attend boxing lessons? How can someone scared to look the world in the eye pass themselves off as cool and fashionable?

My dad’s obvious disappointment played into what I already said to myself. It felt like the world was against me.

I felt an impotent rage. Every night, I’d fantasize about how to turn things around. I imagined strolling confidently into school with a devastating comeback to every insult. I visualized defending myself while everyone looked on in awe.

Yet the next day would be like all the others. My fantasies crumbled like a sugar pedestal in the rain.

On walks, my dad would see someone approaching and tell me to lift my head and look the world in the eye. I couldn’t do it. Such a simple task. Another failure.

An opportunity ruined?

College was fast approaching. This is a two-year course before university. It was a chance to reinvent myself.

I made a fatal mistake.

I thought the problem was with other people. I didn’t realize it was my self-loathing that dictated how people treated me. I could never outrun my problems because I carried them everywhere.

I wasn’t being so directly bullied anymore. No one beat me with bats, spat in my face, or threatened to kill me at college. Most students ignored me.

I was so isolated that I ate lunch in the toilets. This was supposed to have been my big break, yet I ate beef and tomato sandwiches in a toilet cubicle. I’d then walk around the college in laps, pretending I had somewhere to be until my next class.

This was my breaking point. I couldn’t take the pain anymore. I hated what I’d become.

The turnaround.

I went home one night and collapsed, sobbing in the bathroom. I planned to kill myself, but as I looked in the mirror, something stopped me.

At that moment, I stopped berating myself for my failures and made a promise. I was at rock bottom, so I had nothing to lose. I vowed to do whatever it took never to be bullied again. If I wanted to die, I still could, but I had to give life a chance first. I’d never explored what would happen if I acted fearlessly because I was too scared.

My journey was long and arduous, yet I’ve stuck to my promise for the past thirty years. That day, I set a plan in motion to change my appearance and character. My self-talk was abusive. That had to change.

Here are the six steps I took over a long period to change my life.

1. I began to understand the types of people that become bullies.

I had three kinds of bully. The most obvious were the outgoing and aggressive ones. They abused me to my face, told me no one loved me, and backed it up with violence or threats.

Other bullies were sneaky. They talked about me behind my back, started rumors, and manipulated people against me. This kind of bully is more prevalent now, thanks to the internet.

Finally, there’s the friendly, fake bully. They pretended to be my friends so they could come to my house, enjoy the food and games, and then turn on me.

Bullies like to be in control of others and lack empathy.

But what kind of bully was I to myself? I threatened violence that night on the bathroom floor. I also told myself the worst possible things when I needed compassion.

I was a hybrid bully.

2. I took up Karate.

I met my dad halfway. Instead of Boxing and taking punches, I started Karate lessons. The club was non-contact, but I learned a lot of self-defense measures, and my fitness went through the roof.

I was so unfit at school that they made a special group in physical education lessons for a few other fat kids and me. We were group six when there were only meant to be five groups.

After six months of Karate, I could do jumping push-ups and run without getting tired. I lost weight and had muscles. People started noticing.

My Karate instructor was also my college English teacher, which added to my kudos.

After a year, I started Boxing as well. I realized getting hit was nothing to worry about, and I loved the training.

I joined a tougher Karate club at university, representing my fresh start. People thought I was hard as nails. It was intoxicating. I met my first girlfriend, people respected me, and I lived the life I dreamt of but never thought possible.

I was still a harsh critic, though. I’d berate myself if I showed anything hinting at weakness. I had to take the bravest option in every scenario, or I wrote myself off as a coward masquerading as a tough guy.

I was my last bully — the final boss.

3. I made friends.

Some people at college who were “tough guys” from school became friends. They said they thought I was a loser at school, but having gotten to know me at college, they realized I was a decent guy.

I never trusted them, but it was my first foray into my peers accepting me.

I’ve always preferred my own company, but even introverted people need someone. By the time I went to university, I had made genuine friends who never knew me from the bad old days.

As I developed confidence, more people wanted to know me, which further grew my self-esteem. But the most significant benefit of my newfound confidence was that I started to give myself a break.

I began to realize my inherent value as a person. I stopped needing to test myself. If I let something go, I didn’t accuse myself of cowardice.

I allowed myself to be calmer, friendlier, and less guarded. I accepted myself even if I made mistakes.

4. I became kinder to others.

My newfound kindness to myself allowed me to empathize more with others. I became a volunteer with the Samaritans — a crisis and suicide helpline. They trained me never to give advice but to listen and empathize.

I fell in love with Samaritan work. I did any shift available — nights, weekends, and even Christmas Day. I was helping others when, a few short years earlier, I couldn’t help myself.

The kindness I showed to myself radiated to others, which then fed back to me. I learned what other people in crisis need to hear and realized I could do the same for myself.

I wouldn’t dream of telling a caller that they were a pathetic coward. I began to treat myself the way I would a best friend.

5. I acknowledged negative thoughts without attachment.

I still had negative thoughts well up sometimes. It didn’t all disappear. But I learned I didn’t have to become attached to my thoughts.

If I started to think I was slipping back into my old ways, I’d accept the thought and let it wash over me. I didn’t have to do anything about it.

It wasn’t pleasant. Such thoughts tried hard to establish a foothold.

But I had many examples of where I’d acted bravely to counter these thoughts.

6. I became tolerant of my mistakes.

I felt less than 100% a few times and avoided sparring with a formidable opponent who might hurt me. My old self would call me a coward. The new and improved version told me this was not aligned with my values but that tomorrow was another day.

By being patient with myself, I could take on bigger challenges. If something went wrong, I wouldn’t have to listen to my self-abuse all night.

One night at a club, someone took offense to my friend bumping into them and challenged me to a fight.

The “me” from school would have run away and felt like a coward. The “me” from the early days of the university would have hit him on the spot.

The new “me” walked away from the challenge because violence isn’t part of my life. I didn’t berate myself, either. I liked who I’d become.

Final Thoughts and Takeaways

Overcoming bullying taught me the integral link between the inner and the outer. When I was abusive to myself, others were abusive to me. As I found my confidence, others abused me less, and I became kinder to myself.

I’d turned a negative cycle into a positive one. The kinder I was to myself, the more I created an environment where others saw me as valuable. As I found my confidence, I carried myself so others saw me as confident.

How we talk to ourselves matters. Most of us wouldn’t dream of being as abusive to others as we are to ourselves. So why do we tolerate this?

Talk to yourself like you would a best friend. Have the same patience and compassion. Be as forgiving and supportive. It’s amazing how others treat you when you recognize your true value.

Thank you for reading my story.

If you enjoyed this story, you might check out my problematic coping mechanisms as a PTSD survivor.