By Liv Dunleavy Staff Writer I don’t remember a lot of my childhood. I mostly can recall highlights of holidays and a few bits and pieces of days where I was happy and didn’t know about two-factor authentication. I don’t know how common it is not to recall middle school, but I just blame it on a trauma-blocking response. I mean, getting verbally bullied by every kid at school and made fun of by teachers, friends, and family - maybe my brain was just trying to keep me safe. Middle-schoolers are ruthless, and high school just gets worse. You never truly can escape life’s harsh reality - words hurt. Well, when I was younger, there was this hit popstar sweeping the nation and taking over the world. You might have heard him in passing, Justin Bieber? Although it’s funny, this national sensation, this worldwide superstar, he wasn’t allowed to have fans. Considering he literally created a mass hysteria labeled “Bieber Fever,” which has legitimate scholarly articles written about it, you’d think that being a fan of him would be a good thing, something relatable. Well, you’d be wrong. It was something to be ashamed of, something laughable. I got ruthlessly bullied for my interest in him. It may seem silly to bring this up. It may seem pointless. You may think, “OK, you liked some cringe popstar? How is that our fault?” I never got physically bullied when I was in school, and I am grateful for that, but have you ever heard the phrase “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me”? That phrase is honestly laughable to me, because when you are a middle-schooler, every word hurts you. I was hospitalized in eighth grade. It was my last year in middle school. I should’ve been celebrating. I should’ve been excited for this new step into high school. But I couldn’t take it anymore. I was in eighth grade and I was already diagnosed with anxiety disorder and depression. I wanted out of school. I wanted out of society. I was a wreck. I was an eighth-grader. It wasn’t my first rodeo at an inpatient. I hated it. They had very strict rules, no phones, no computers, strict bedtimes and schedules. You have to keep your room door open at all times - for safety, of course, even when sleeping. They allowed radios and CDs. I brought my favorite Justin Bieber CD. They would make me close my door at night because they didn’t want to listen to my “garbage.” These types of experiences - certain snide comments and jabs - stuck with me. I can still feel the pain I felt, the way they sneered at me while saying them. Middle-schoolers are ruthless. I decided I would stop showing my outward affection for my interests and hobbies. All it ever did was hurt to have something I loved, that I wanted to share with my friends, with my family, with new classmates, shut down and ignored - or worse, made fun of and ridiculed. It wasn’t all just celebrity drama. When I got to high school and started figuring out who I was, and growing and learning about myself, students also learned some new vocabulary. Bullying was now less about my celebrity interests and now focused on my mental health and my sexual orientation. I thought I could escape it if I just started to be less interested, tone it down, or just start hiding away altogether - people might leave me alone. But I couldn’t - I had my teachers nicknaming me. I had students calling me slurs. It started to make me annoyed instead of sad. What did their opinion truly mean to me? Who even were these kids, the teachers, random people on the street who would yell out profanities at me? Who were these people to me? They were not my friends, they were not anyone with any power over my emotions. I felt my skin thicken, metaphorically speaking. I stopped taking the jabs from them, and I owned it. I owned it and I felt a shift. It was like my world tilted on its axis. I stopped accepting toxicity and I embraced community instead. I found my crowd. I found friends who would support me and hype up my interests because they had the same love as I did. Creating a space, be it online or in-person, where you have people who you feel connected to and cared for with, is so important. We all need people in our lives who will always raise us up and be there for us when we are down. I started to find that bubble of people, and when I did, I felt like I could start living. (A tip from me: going to events, finding someone new to sit with at lunch, and joining clubs is a great way to start expanding your bubble!) Since then I have become someone I am proud of. I have found my people. Yes, I - constantly - deal with hate and bullying. It doesn’t end because I stop focusing on it. I found new things to be bullied about, don’t worry. It follows me wherever I go, and it still hurts sometimes. Sometimes it will still give me a flashback of 12-year-old Liv, standing there while everyone pointed and laughed because I got excited about something they found cringe. I think about high school Liv, who sat in the bathroom and cried when she didn’t know why she was the target of so many hate comments from classmates online just for being who she was. And all I can do is hug myself tight because she went through so much. She went through hell and back over stuff that wasn't even bothering anyone. But I now have the strength to stand up to it. And I certainly have the strength to stand up to it for others. I do not stand on the sidelines or shrink anymore. And neither should you. It took me a long time to learn how to advocate for myself, to speak up when someone spoke down to me. I still struggle sometimes. But I also use that strength to help others. I no longer stay silent when I witness bullying. It hurts just as much to watch others be silent in the face of bullying. Verbal or physical, it happens every day. And it’s different now, with technology. You can hide your face, your name, your whole identity behind a profile. It may seem like it’s not worth saying something when it happens so often. But speaking up for someone especially in a verbal bullying situation can change their life. Words have consequences. Words have power and they can stick with you for a long time. Don’t be the reason someone feels the way I did then. Be the change.