I'm not sure which came first, the bullying or the depression. I'll just start by recounting three incidents from elementary school, all involving the same person, who I would so much love to name.

In one incident, this guy, probably the strongest kid in the school, kicked a soccer ball essentially from one end of the field to the other, and then told me to go get it.

In another, he pushed me into a puddle.

In a third, he knocked my books out of my hand, and then turned to the other kids standing there and gave them a cue. In unison, they all chanted "Cry, J., Cry! Cry J., Cry." I don't know how long that went on.

The effect it had, with 40 years' hindsight, was to make me think, "My weaknesses, physical and otherwise, will be punished. I can no longer enjoy this playground, or any other part of this school." It filled me with sadness and rage. Just that feeling of being physically overpowered. I mean, I was really broken.

To this day, I have a hard seeing any kind of conflict or disagreement as anything other than a threat to my very existence. So I am trying to rewire my brain, to think, "Yes, I have my weaknesses, but that does not mean I don't have the right to exist." Or something like that. It's a work in progress.

So I guess bullying to me is anytime anyone uses their powers to hurt you, whether it's verbal or physical or something else, or all of those things. It's abuse, definitely.

Time to let someone else talk now.