“In debentures of quality and dubious integrity”
February 3rd, 2015 @ 6:33 pm


Before I went to bed last night (which was really earlier this morning), I heard “Runaway Train” on the radio.  I thought back to when I was 14 and made a post on Facebook basically thanking my friend Nina. Back when I was 14, felt awkward & alone. I had braces and wasn’t into most things girls my age back then were interested in.  She made things easier for me and accepted me as I was. Everyone needs a friend like that.

Also popped into my head was the bully I had.  I don’t know if you could call her a bully, but in a way, she was.  She didn’t physically taunt me.  Her bullying came in the form of  snide remarks.

We were in classes in 8th and 9th grade.  One of the things I remember her doing was being livid and having the eyes of a killer when I missed a question for a our team in an 8th grade review group session.  Our history teacher broke us in groups and had a trivia game the day prior to our test.  Winning team got a few bonus points.  Back then, usually, the team that had either me, or my classmate Elizabeth, my equal in all things history and geography, would win.  At the time I missed the question, Elizabeth’s team was in the lead.  At the end of class, my team came from behind and won.  I also remember another time she complained that the randomness of who teams were assigned was unfair because Elizabeth and I ended up on the same team.  There was no way another team would be able to beat us.

These are just the few examples I will bring up.  Overall, she made school hell for me. Instead of singing “At Seventeen,” it would be more like “At Fourteen.”

Nina asked me who she was in the Facebook post, and I answered that she was an officer’s kid. Outside of school, we had no other interaction. This conversation made me thing of the haves and the have nots in junior high.  My junior high was on Ft. Bragg, so your haves in this case were mainly the kids who fathers and mothers were officers.  Most of the kids, or the have nots, were enlisted kids.  Nina and I were enlisted kids.

In the military brat world I grew up in, most of the enlisted kids were cool.  A majority of us did not wear our parents’ ranks on our shoulders.  We were just kids that loved early ’90s hip hop, the Fox network, ice skating, and other teen items.  If our parents could afford something, we’d get it.  Sometimes, you couldn’t because you’d be from a large family and family essentials were more important than a Starter jacket.

The same can apply to many officers’ kids as well.  Some of them never let on that their military sponsor was an officer.  However, a lot of the kids from officers’ homes did.  They were the rich kids of Ft. Bragg.  They could get the latest Starter jacket or whatever the hot item of the week was.  They thought Daddy’s rank meant they could do whatever they could in school.  They could be some of the rudest, meanest kids in class.   My bully fell into this group.

All these later, however, I just look back and pity my bully.  I don’t know what made her mean.  I don’t know if she was raise to wear her father’s rank or what.  I just know she was mean.  She was mean to me.  She was mean to a few other kids.  And even if she’s married and has kids or what, and is the sweetest thing ever now, in 1993, she was mean.  Something led to her being that way.  Whatever it was, it was detrimental to her in some capacity.

However, if she was to come back into my life again, I doubt I would have anything to do with her except for a few polite exchanges.

I will admit, in first grade, I was a bully.  I was the second lowest rung on the totem pole in Catholic school.  Picking on the lowest run girl in class helped me feel better in a way. At age 6/7, you don’t see it as the insecurity that it was. I know that was wrong of me and I’m sorry. I would apologize if I could.  I can’t remember her name. After that year, I think karma caught back to me and I was never the popular girl at the Catholic school.  I wasn’t the popular girl at Ft. Bragg, either.

I would like to give credit where credit is due.  Most people complain about high school, but my classmates in high school were great and nice.  I am contact with many of them still to this day.  They could have been snots as well, but never were.  I was just shy, and based on my history prior to moving to Savannah, between school and my home life, I had trouble being open and allowing them into my life. I wish I could have been more open in high school.

As for the purpose of this post, it’s just a reflection of my life.  It’s an understanding of military brat life.  It’s coming to terms to being bullied and being insecure.

Life · Military Brats

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