Getting Bullied By Ola The Great

Some kids get bullied. ‘Scarred for life’ bullied. This is not news. We all know about getting bullied. We see it. Some of us felt it.

I am fortunate that I wasn’t a constant target for bullies. I had all the makings of a bully target. I was small for my age. I was timid and skittish. I had no mechanism to stick up for myself. Still, not a constant target.

That doesn’t mean there weren’t some incidents.

I was 12 years old and we lived in the Cherry Hill subdivision. My family moved in with a single mother and her two daughters. To this day, I have no idea why. I’m sure there are reasons and I’m sure I don’t want to know what they are. I already lived through enough bullshit, if some passed me by, then I’m putting that in the win column.

Anyway, there was a girl who lived in our subdivision named Ola. Ola had a fuck ton of siblings. You could tell her clothes had been handed down more than once. She was tall and lanky with long straight hair, pale skin and lots of freckles. Ola was a year ahead of me, but for a while, she hung out with me and two other neighborhood friends.

Ola was a dick. She was mean spirited. She could both mock and intimidate like a goddamn pro. I didn’t have the balls to tell her that we didn’t want her around and my friends Beth and Debbie didn’t either.

We were at Debbie’s house. I liked Debbie’s house. Debbie was the friend, who wasn’t a great friend, but she always had candy. Fucking always. She usually carried a wide variety and, at the very least, had a bag of blow pops with her. I don’t know if Debbie actually had any real friends or just sugar addicts looking for a fix. I think there was a part of me that resented how drawn I was to gorging myself on an endless supply of candy.

Anyway, I guess I could make this up, but the truth is, I have no idea what I did to piss off Ola. Probably nothing. In retrospect, I realize that Ola had to intimidate. That was who she was. When it was time to beat up a seventh grader to demonstrate her might, she didn’t really need a reason. She just needed a seventh grader. A small seventh grader.

Ola wasn’t going to pick Debbie. No way. Debbie controlled the chocolate. Even kids know not to fuck with the chocolate supply. Ola wasn’t going to pick Beth, either. Beth was a cheerleader. Beth had super powerful seventh grade friends. Then there was me. All 76 pounds of me.

Ola handled the smack down like a business transaction. She directed me to the bathroom as to spare me the humiliation of taking my beating in front of everyone.

Ola shut the bathroom door behind us and looked at me.

She said, “I’m not going to hit you hard, but you have to act like it was hard, or I will beat the shit out of you.”

I was agreeable to her terms.

I don’t remember the actual hitting part. It must not have been bad. I just remember the fucking terror I felt at having the meanest girl I knew telling me she was going to beat me up.

I never forgot Ola.

For years, when I remembered my mostly forgettable ass beating, I would feel choking, slimy feelings of frustrated anger. It wasn’t so much that I couldn’t stick up for myself when I was young, although I am fairly certain I could not, it was more that it wasn’t an option. By the time I was 12, I had been fundamentally changed by my narcissistic father. I learned that standing up for myself resulted in insurmountable turmoil.

I can think about Ola now and it doesn’t bother me. I can stick up for myself now. It just took most of my adult life to learn that defending myself is an option. I don’t feel bad when I remember Ola, but I never forgot her.

You know those electronic thingies you sign when you check out at the grocery? I never sign them with my own name. I sign my name as “Ola the Great”.

It’s probably against the law or something to do that, so if I go to the stripey hole because of this post, y’all are going to have to send me cakes with files baked in them.

I would be willing to bet, if Ola was asked today if she remember the skinny girl with the messy hair that lived on Peachtree Lane, she would say no.

Funny, the people who stick with you.

I think Ola is still around because when I was young, I wanted her power. I wanted her power more than I wanted Debbie’s candy and more than I wanted to be a cheerleader with Beth. I didn’t want her power to hurt people. I wanted her power because then I could stop always being afraid.

It’s not like fear doesn’t play a part in my life, but it’s not quite so overwhelming as it used to be.

Maybe “Ola the Great” can be my reminder to not allow fear to decide my path.

 

 

 

 

 

34 Thoughts.

  1. You’re not going to believe this, but I had an Olla of my own. Her name was actually Olla, and she was a student in one of my classes. None of the rules applied to her, and she was in my face with brash rudeness at every turn. One day she was actually screaming at me in the hall because she wasn’t getting her way, and continuously went over my head (which didn’t work). Yep, I felt bullied, and still do: she’s now on a campaign to discredit me by repeatedly posting bad teacher ratings online. But you know what? Dealing with this “witch” taught me to stand my ground and not be intimidated by bullies. It must be hell to be an Olla.

  2. I had one bully during my entire childhood and it was while I was in Catholic school, of all places. There was actually two bullies in that school, but the one lived near me and we were actually friends.

    Of course, both of them were older and bigger than me. Bullies never take on someone their own size. But one day the bully targeted me on the playground for some reason. Then the other bully defended me and I don’t quite recall what happened after that. All I know is that there was a fight.

    It makes you wonder what kind fucked up homes those kids grew up in where everything revolved around violence. Especially in homes where the parents were spending thousands of dollars per year to put their kids into a Catholic school which, ostensibly, would be teaching you to love one another.

    People are dumb.

  3. Love this post, Michelle, I remember a similar incident that has stayed with me forever–a popular boy in class insulted me for being fat– also 7th grade– I will never forget it. It is so weird how vivid these memories are. With your permission, I would like to reprint on BA50.

  4. There was a boy when I was that age who used to chase me down and flick me with his pocket comb. I just remember passing the apartment complex he lived in and crossing the street, hoping he wasn’t outside. The place was really run down and scary, with trash and crappy cars all over the front yard, and he and his brothers and sisters were always outside, just as dirty as the place he lived. I remember feeling sorry for him.

    It wasn’t until I had a bully was also actually my friend that I felt really scared. She could oust me from the group in a heartbeat, ruining my social life (I thought), or I could stay and put up with her casual insults. I stayed. Far too long.

  5. First off, I’m so sorry you had to ‘Ola.’ We didn’t know it at the time, but those kids were getting it at home so they brought it to school so they could feel better than they did in their own powerless homes. Glad I could help make your shitty life better Nicole.

    From first grade through 6th, there was a ringleader. Her favorite thing to say was, “When I want your opinion, I’ll kick it out of you.”

    She was SIX YEARS OLD!!! But, fuck…SO WAS I!!! (Doug wasn’t big on warnings, ya know, but he didn’t say things like that.)

    School was supposed to make all the perfectionist, narcissistic Daddy training a good reason to be the smartest girl …EVER! By the end of 1st grade, I hated school soooo badly, that second grade saw a lot of absences.

    They would follow me down the hallway between classes (VERY small school…only one hallway) with “Is that a swing in your back yard?” (yeah, that was one of the nicer ones, by 3rd grade) and other mortifying and humiliating words that were thrown harder than any rock.

    The worst part? Nicole’s mother and sister were my 4-H group leaders. Oh yay. But that’s where I beat her. I could outride that bitch any day. Wish I could say it helped, but I had to get off the horse and put my ribbon on the shelf eventually and go back to school.

    I survived. We moved after my Mom couldn’t take being ‘the Good Wife’ any more. I can say that because of Nicole, I’m pretty nice to more people than I would have been.

    But you’re right Michelle. The power I craved wasn’t an ‘I’ll show you and be just like you.’ The feeling I wanted was the freedom to walk down the halls and smile.

    Wanna bet Ola and Nicole are on way more meds than us? Had more husbands? Ungrateful kids??

    Wouldn’t it be nice if we could truly feel good about their misery?

    Yeah, me neither. Just can’t do it. She may have taken my pride, but she left me with my decency and I can sleep at night knowing I took the time to make sure my kids knew how to build people up, (for the most part, they did pretty darn good 🙂 something nobody ever loved Nicole enough to do for her.

    Fuck, these full circles.

    Thanks, Michelle! Great post that did what it was supposed to do…for me (and that’s what it truly is all about, right? Me? 🙂 Haha…feeling great about the things I’ve accomplished, the lives I’ve touched and the ones I’ve not screwed up too badly.

    It’s good to be a “big girl” 🙂 (hic…sniff)

  6. Bullies suck. I think one of the problems in our society is that too often especially in school settings bullies are not held accountable for their actions. It wouldn’t stop it entirely if they were, but it would help a lot I think. We watched the documentary Bully and it was easy to see that adults in the schools were as much of the problem as the bullies themselves. One of the ladies in the video I wanted to go and beat up myself. She certainly had no business shaping young minds or being in charge of them in any way shape or form. End rant. LOL Glad you are living with much less fear. 🙂

      • OMG, I saw “My Monkey Baby” listed on Netflix the other day! Worth a watch? Worth live-blogging with a bottle of vodka? The fact that I’m asking these questions, and hoping you answer them, speaks volumes about awesome we are compared to bullies. Bullies would never watch a documentary about monkey babies.

  7. I mostly dealt with the bullies by having friends who were a lot older than I was (I didn’t have them as friends for that reason, it just worked out that way). My dad, who was a boxer when he was a kid, was adamant that I take care of any shit that I started myself, which actually worked out kind of OK…
    The name Ola reminded me of a verse in a New Pornographers song called “Challengers”:

    Until I see you around
    Until we clear the accounts
    Leave it there
    Leave it to us
    We are the challengers of
    The unknown

    Oh-la, oh-la, oh-la, oh-la
    Oh-la, oh-la, oh-la, oh-la

  8. God, kids are so cruel. We had mean girls in my grammar school and high school, too, none quite so nasty as Ola. I hated that time in my life and was so relieved to get out of that environment. Glad you found a way to turn the fear into something to propel you forward in life.

  9. I dealt with bullies for years, starting mainly in sixth grade. In the first few weeks of eighth grade a kid named Vic decided I was a good target. And finally I had enough and he got a bloody nose from me and left me alone.
    That should be the happy ending but there really isn’t one. Later that year Vic was killed while riding a stolen motorcycle. The kids who knew him said he was probably high.
    I’m not saying he should get a free pass for what he did to me but I realized Vic’s problems were a lot worse than what he did to me. And that’s the shitty thing about bullies. If you’re a reasonable, decent person you understand that they’ve got problems too and just have a shitty way of dealing with it. The problem is being a reasonable, decent person makes you a good target.
    I’m glad you’ve at least found a positive use for Ola.

    • I don’t think there is any doubt that Ola’s life was hard. Looking back, I can feel compassion for her, although I have no idea what happened in her life. We only lived there a year and I didn’t keep in touch with anyone from that time in my life.

  10. I think I remember that subdivision even though that’s not important to the story. I remember running those streets years ago with my group of friends in Erlanger? It’s amazing how the mind works isn’t it? The people and things that change us or that we remember and how those memories have affected our lives even though we aren’t aware of it. How are you doing with your book? I finished mine, but now I don’t know what the hell to do with it. Mine is totally fiction though a lot easier to write than what you are doing. I can’t wait to read it when its done.

    • Yep. in Erlanger…that’s the place! I love how we’ve followed each other around. haha.

      Ummmm….I still have a lot of work to do. But I’m getting there. I am getting there.

  11. Oh, this brought back a memory.
    Me – first grade.
    Harriet – kindergarten.
    On the way home from school in Seattle in approx 1956 she told me that one day she was going to take me in her backyard, take my clothes off, and beat me up. I had no idea when or why.
    I was literally terrified of her. I had dreams about beating her with a stick so she couldn’t hurt me. I eventually told my Mom who told our principal who kept Harriet after school for several days until I got a head start walking home.
    I heard that her parents threw plates at each other, so I felt a shocked sympathy for her at the time. At 65 now, I feel much more compassion for what she must have been going through at home, but I still hate the name Harriet.
    I enjoyed reading your story about Ola. I will send you a chocolate cake with a file when the time is right.

    • Yeah, there is usually a very dark reason why children behave that way. And thank you for the cake. If you want to practice without the file, you can send me one any old time. haha.

  12. Hard to read. As a teacher I saw too many Ola’s, and my daughter had her own ‘Ola’ that I regret not being more able to help her with.
    I like your fix though. Maybe I will try that next time I sign my ‘name’.

  13. I was never confrontational, but I was tall from the get go. I was a tall baby, I guess. My poor mother had my ‘little’ brother next, who was ten pounds when he was born. I digress.
    Not many people messed with me, but I still remember every instance of unjust treatment.
    We remember these instances because they create new neural pathways in our brains. Our brains learned to do this when we were cave people and still evolving, in order for us to learn to protect ourselves against enemies.
    We remember incivility much better than kindnesses, which is why so many dicks become successful in business. The rest of us are too nice. Ola is now the CEO of her own internet software development company.
    I made most of that up, but I’ll bet it’s true.

  14. One of my bullies works at the liquor store now. She looks like shit. I take a bit of pleasure in that. Although I haven’t gone back since I discovered it.

  15. It’s a good observation you realized what you wanted/needed was the power she had. Makes me wonder how powerless she felt outside of bullying the other kids? Doesn’t matter though- feeling powerless is no excuse for bullying I suppose. My bully was named Tracy. She shamed my family for having a microwave from Kmart. KMART was for poor ppl. And here I was simply excited to be able to have frozen dinners I could make myself instead of waiting to be fed. Kids are dumb.

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