Back then, she clearly could not comprehend what was happening to her and taking a hold. Sadly, communication often goes out the window in this scenario. You see, it doesn't make any sense that others are unkind, when they have only ever known the opposite.
Fortunately for both of us, she has since learnt to be a fabulous communicator. I cannot tell you how different things are for her. She is a confident happy child. I could never have seen how she would progress at the time I wrote this.
If you have a child that is suddenly not themselves, talk to them, look out for any tell-tale signs... remembering that little ones can be also be affected by bullying.
If you have a child that is suddenly not themselves, talk to them, look out for any tell-tale signs... remembering that little ones can be also be affected by bullying.
Bullied at five.
Oh little girl of mine, stood tall.
So chipper and so cheery.
Where are you? And who is this?
My shadow, always teary.
You used to stop and talk to all,
Your confidence unending.
But recently, that child has gone.
Missing. Sent. Pending.
For Esme you've been away,
Absent for awhile.
Your chatty self no longer,
A stranger to a smile.
Instead small shoulders weighed you down.
A foreboding sense would reign.
We'd walk to school, and you would ask,
"Remind me why I go again?"
Then at the gate and quivering.
And full of sad surprise:
"It's happening all over;
I've got tears in my eyes."
And I would cajole and quip and cuddle.
Then sternly send you in.
And walk away with my head bowed,
To keep my tears within.
And unbeknown to me, little you,
Having taken a deep breath,
Would hang your bag and coat inside.
And after, hang your head.
The day the headmistress found you.
Crying still, quite haunted.
She talked with you, and you let go.
The name calling, the taunted.
So then I found out where you'd gone,
Or rather why you'd gone there.
Because of three big bully boys,
Who confused you to despair.
Who made you wonder what you'd done.
Made you question every day.
Who sent you somewhere lonely.
And who stole my girl away.
So chipper and so cheery.
Where are you? And who is this?
My shadow, always teary.
You used to stop and talk to all,
Your confidence unending.
But recently, that child has gone.
Missing. Sent. Pending.
For Esme you've been away,
Absent for awhile.
Your chatty self no longer,
A stranger to a smile.
Instead small shoulders weighed you down.
A foreboding sense would reign.
We'd walk to school, and you would ask,
"Remind me why I go again?"
Then at the gate and quivering.
And full of sad surprise:
"It's happening all over;
I've got tears in my eyes."
And I would cajole and quip and cuddle.
Then sternly send you in.
And walk away with my head bowed,
To keep my tears within.
And unbeknown to me, little you,
Having taken a deep breath,
Would hang your bag and coat inside.
And after, hang your head.
The day the headmistress found you.
Crying still, quite haunted.
She talked with you, and you let go.
The name calling, the taunted.
So then I found out where you'd gone,
Or rather why you'd gone there.
Because of three big bully boys,
Who confused you to despair.
Who made you wonder what you'd done.
Made you question every day.
Who sent you somewhere lonely.
And who stole my girl away.
