"My Journey Through Life: Childhood" Part 2

Bullying: A Chapter I Had to Overcome

Did you ever experience bullying at school or in summer camps? If you feel like sharing, tell in the comments—I’d love to hear your stories too!

My parents often sent me to summer camps, sometimes two or even three per summer. To be honest, it was pure torture for me. I desperately wanted to go home and called my parents every day, begging them to take me back. But they never did—apparently, they were building my resilience and strength of character 🙈😅.

In these camps, I was often bullied by other kids—sometimes for my appearance, sometimes for my weight, or just for the way I behaved. My natural instinct to stand up for others didn’t help me much at that age; it always made me a target.

One particular incident is burned into my memory. There was a girl in my room—she was shy, wore glasses, and was a overweight. She quickly became the target of brutal bullying, and I often saw her crying.

One day, when I was alone in our room, a group of older girls from the neighboring room came in. They started smearing her bed with shower gels and stuffing her pillow with plums, covering everything up so she wouldn’t notice until she lay down. Then they turned to me and told me to keep quiet. Of course, when the girl returned, I warned her. But the older girls had been standing outside, eavesdropping. The moment they heard me, they barged into the room. They slapped her first, just to humiliate her, and then turned to me.

They dragged me into the bathroom, handed me a filthy mop, and ordered me to clean the floor. I want to clarify—they were much bigger, much older, and there were several of them. I had no chance of fighting back. So, I did as they said. Then, for the final humiliation, they wiped my face with that same dirty mop. I don’t want to go into too much detail—it’s not exactly my fondest memory. But this was what my childhood looked like.

The bullying followed me even after camp. It got so bad at school that I eventually had to transfer to another school. It was truly one of the worst periods of my life, and I started to believe it would always be this way.

But you know what? I decided to change it.

At just 11 years old, I realized I had to choose a different approach to behavior so that people would immediately know not to mess with me. To do that, I had to hide the little, open, kind Nastya who always wanted to help everyone and save the world (yes, I’ve had this trait since childhood 😅) and create a new version of myself: tough, strong, and aggressive. And so began my journey, where now there were two versions of Nastya. And guess what? It worked! Especially during my teenage years, the changes in my behavior were noticeable 🤪

I went to the Artek camp in Crimea, which was my first camp where I wasn’t bullied, where I absolutely loved it, where I made many friends with whom I met for the next four years in Artek! I was no longer the quiet, sweet girl; I became wild, loud, brave, the girl who stood out and had boys chasing after her. I even started wearing heavy makeup to look older and more intimidating to others 😂

But when I returned home, everything was as usual. I would become that little Nastya again, hiding in my room with Funtik, assembling a puzzle to the wild screams of my parents in the next room. I liked being myself, but I realized that the world was too harsh for people like me, and I had to change to survive, so to speak 🙈

I had no one to support or help me, as my parents at the time were quite strict and generally didn’t pay attention to me. My grandmother (my mom’s mother) lived far away in a village. She had divorced my grandfather when my mom was little, and my grandfather, who still doesn’t let me call him grandpa, only by his first name, was a very cruel man back then, so we hardly communicated. As for my father’s parents… I only saw them a couple of times in my life.

So, with my struggles and problems, I was always left alone.

Since childhood, I had thoughts that I didn’t belong in this world, that I ended up here by mistake. I felt very strongly that I was different from other people. These thoughts and feelings appeared in me at a very early age, so as soon as I more or less learned to write, I started keeping a diary.

My very first, very small notebook appeared when I was about five years old (I specifically confirmed the age with my mom to be sure). I had a very thick black pen, short and comfortable for small fingers. I tried to write in it, and I kept it hidden in a Dalmatian-shaped pencil case. I had a deep need for someone to listen to me, to hear how lonely I felt in this world, and my diary became my salvation. I don’t even remember where I got the idea from.

To give you an idea, I have kept a diary all my life. All of them are still preserved and hidden in my home. However, as I got older, I wrote less frequently. Over time, I would take out my diary about once every six months to record the most significant events of my life. I would also sometimes reread my past entries, and this became a kind of therapy for me. I could clearly observe how I changed throughout my life, how my thoughts and reflections evolved.

I am incredibly grateful to myself for keeping these diaries because I almost never shared my feelings and emotions with anyone—no one ever really asked. Writing became a dialogue with myself, my lifeline, helping me process my emotions and find clarity in my own thoughts. You know what I wrote very often- That I want to go home, although I myself had no idea what it meant and why I had such thoughts swirling around in my head, and I wrote in my diary verbatim - that I have no idea what this means! But later, as I grew older, I realized what it meant.

And one day, I gained two more friends – two cats, Frosya and Belya, who were inseparable and always walked together! And they came into our lives together, too!

I remember begging my mom to let me bring the little kitten home, but she said we already had pets and couldn’t handle another one. I remember crying so hard, feeling so sorry for the kitten. My mom told me to take him and leave him in the barn so he wouldn’t follow us, and I cried uncontrollably as I carried him there. On my way back home, I ran with tears streaming down my face, hoping the kitten wouldn’t catch up with me.

The next day, that kitten, who became Frosya, came back to us, but not alone – she brought Belya, the second cat. 😅😂 I remember it was pouring rain outside, and my dad brought both kittens home. I was so happy. It was such a memorable day in my life!

Now, in our little house, it was me, three cats, and a dog. 😅 Since I now had my own beautiful room, of course, the cats slept with me. 😂 Funtik slept on my pillow with me every single day of my life from my earliest childhood until the end of his days.

Tomorrow, I’ll tell you about the start of a new chapter in my life called “New School, 7th Grade” 😅😂

P.S. I think many of you have already realized that what I’m writing for you now is a form of therapy for me, because I’ve never had the habit or desire to share details from my past life with anyone. Of course, I could tell something if asked, but I never really took the initiative. So, I know everything about the people I communicate with and am friends with—I know their childhoods, their parents, and their lives in minute detail. But to give you an idea, a lot of what you’re reading now, even my husband Mark is hearing for the first time, and he was really upset about what have happed in my life and that it was inside me all this time. And now, I’ve decided it’s time to open up to the world, not just about my physical pain related to my current health situation, but also the inner pain that’s followed me throughout my life, up until the moment when my healing journey began, so to speak, and I want to share this with the world. I’ve been reassured for a long time that my experience might be helpful to someone. For many years, people have asked me to write a book about myself, but I totally dismissed the idea, thinking, ‘I’m just like anyone else, one in a billion, who could possibly be interested in my life?’ But it turns out, some people actually find it interesting. I did write and publish a book, but not about myself 😅 But more on that later ) For now, I think a great alternative to a book is this kind of journal story on Patreon for you ) Even though it takes an enormous amount of time and energy from me 🤣