What's your story

Welcome to the Gallery

The JamBios Memory Gallery showcases user submitted memory stories from around the globe.
Each month selections are hand curated by Annie Cusick Wood and the JamBios creative team. They are chosen based on how the memory touches our heart, makes us laugh or inspires us.

To submit your memory story, start your free JamBio and invite the Memory Gallery to read one of your Chapter sections. Select Reader "Memory Gallery" at MemoryGallery@JamBios.com.

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By Esperanza Perez

Finding my comfort

 I was in middle school, in the 6th grade. Everyone talked about it. Everyone knew about it. But no one expected it to happen to them. They never imagined that they would be bullied. That they would be taunted and neglected and called names that no one should ever be called. I suppose no one else expected that they would be the person to do the bullying. I had no friends at school. My only objective of school was to learn. That was all that was important. I did not make friends because of this. I just did my work quietly and waited for the day to be over. Until tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that. Just an ongoing system of work, school, and more work. Then, the bullies were introduced into this system. I saw it as nothing- a little nudge here, a little tease there. From there everything escalated. The nudges became punches and the teasing became full on disrespect. I was petrified to go to school. I had no idea how to fix it. I told my mom and she wanted to have a meeting with the principal. I did not want this. I knew the main points that he was going to use. “Why didn’t you tell us earlier? You realize that you can trust the campus supervisors, right? We will have it taken care of it immediately.” Taken care of it? Nope. It made things worse. They threatened me and forced me up against the restroom walls. They called me names to my face and behind my back. I was sick of this treatment. I was right at my breaking point. Then one day, there was complete silence. The bruises disappeared and so did the nose bleeds. Just silence. It was like my name was taken off of the school attendance sheet, yet I was still there. There was a sort of comfort from this stage of my life. I mean being neglected is better than getting beat up, right? I found safety in neglection. It made perfect sense to me: if I stayed out of everyone’s way, I wouldn’t be a part of drama, fights, and all that other junk. So my mind was made up. I stayed near the back of the classroom and did not draw attention to myself. It was a good plan and for a while it worked. I spent the rest of middle school hiding under school work and reading glasses that took up half of my face. It was very good until I got a teacher whole loved for kids to choose their own groups. “Alright. Get into your own groups of 4,”he announced. I panicked. I looked around the room and saw people moving their desks together. There was one group of 3, in the corner of the room. I moved there. They seemed nice but I did not like being so close to them. It was uncomfortable to have people pop my personal space bubble. I didn’t like it. Whenever we got into groups, it was the same girls who always only had 3 members. We had to spend more time with each other. I was used to it but still didn’t enjoy it. I wanted to work alone. Something unusual began to happen. They waved high to me at lunch. Whoa. That is a big step for me. I was a little in shock as they smiled at me because no one had talked to me in years. I too busy processing everything that I didn’t wave back. “Wait. Not me. Why would they wave at me? Was someone behind me? Nope just a wall.” My mind was racing with thoughts. Should I let them into my life? What if they hurt me? I just didn’t know. From middle school, these girls have made quite an influence on my life. I let them in and it was amazing. They cared for me, we made jokes, and we studied together. They even joined me when I went to library to check out books. We were and still are the best of friends. That is why I enjoy using Jambios. We send each other silly pictures and recall memories from our youth. My friends are my comfort.