Bullies, The Bullied and Depression

For those of us who underwent bullying in the schoolyard and during P.E. classes the shape of today's gregarious society leaves much to be desired. I was a relatively happy child but things started to go down hill from secondary school. I was subject to verbal abuse, theft, threatened physical abuse, teasing in P.E. and so on. I became very isolated, inward-looking, quiet, superstitious (a lucky day would be a day which was bullying-free). I have retained the fear of the schoolyard in my adult years only this time the enema is the market place, that which decides which of us are successes and failures, which of us poor and prosperous, which of us respectable or indifferent. Everything that society requires be it finding a job, networking, being happy looking whilst during unpleasant work, and simply being out there and out and about in an unthinking way subconsciously reminds me of bullying tactics. Predictably I have always seen academia, perhaps misguidedly, as THE escape route from Bullying Business. But I made the unwise choice of a bullying subject and a career full of adult ex-bullies: the law. Again, as a law student, I was the odd one out, not even that good academically (which came as a shock) and alienated by all the falseness, the hypocritical and barely concealed competition (students would hide library books to founder prospects for poorer students), the extorsion of money by older students reselling their old textbooks and I remember a conversation between two young corporate workers on the bus in which Richard Wheelan was killed by Anthony Joseph (Holloway Road) which revolved around girls, French, property and football. Not to mention the hideousness of career events which required nothing less than the selling of one's soul. As a sensitive, doubtful, thoughtful and introspective soul, the world of society, be it restaurants, pubs, law firms, universities had taken the place of school scum. When I dropped out of law I did some waiting in a restaurant and was predictably bullied there also. I became a warrior, a terrorist, I became filled with a contempt of the masses, of people in general, of the way things worked. I then did some job hunting in London which meant mingling with the mob for a couple of weeks, especially in The Anchor, a restaurant in Somerset House, where the acting manager, under instructions from the owner, installed terror in staff whilst urging us to be "relaxed." I then got bullied by a co-worker during my silver-serving days, himself a law student, who would deliberatly miss my stop on the way to work, and of course the team would blame me and not him, the popular one. Then it was the Post Office which was not as bad bullying wise, the team consisting of middle-aged women, but they eventually seized the opportunity to chastise my difference and, with the help of the social services, I was to have my first trip into Mental Hospital. That's the irony of it all. Although one is clearly a victim, the psychiatric services treat one as a perpetrator, a danger to others, a "scizophrenic." The State, through benefits, has allieviated the plight of the bullying, the bully's fist has been tied down, but only for a time. I will soon have to reckon with the horror of the work place. I actually went so far as to working in a pub; the bullying came mainly from the customers but my colleagues for the most part were good. I still loathed the thought of having to smile whilst feeling like shit, and serving the Friday night mob to drink. What next? Well, I will have to be very selective in my future choices and academically it would be wise of me to favour the humanities over and above business orientated subjects like law. Which is why I am studying the Classics and Homer. To finish I will reiterate a point made by Nietzsche: there are two prevailing relationships to power. The first, which I adhere to, consists in self-development, self-mastery, virtue in the Latin sense, and often translates in creative or academic achievement. The other, which bullies adhere to, consists in putting other people down, for example in gruelling interviews, or through psychiatric labels. For example my NHS consultant blamed me for (as he put it) "living in my head" or being over-analytical and unemotional. Similarly a staff worker in my supported accommodation noted that I was "introspective" as though introspection is an undesirable thing, a disease, which society should nevertheless learn to accommodate. Plus there is the harassment from the social services to be active, to work and unsurprinsingly they are against my seeing a psychotherapist, the only hald-decent human being amongst a sea of failures. I have attempted suicide once already and no doubt my history of being bullied and negative social interaction had something to do with it. I have very supportive parents, but it still feels like I'm at school again, reporting the evils of the playground. Although I am heavily medicated, I am prone to tremendous anger; yes, life makes me very angry.