This post is part of my personal series leading up to Do It For Dolly Day — a day that means a lot to our family.
We’ve lived through the gut-wrenching reality of bullying. And while most of the focus is (rightly) on the kids going through it, I want to talk about something else — something we don’t often say out loud:
When your child is being bullied, it breaks you too.
As a mum, I was shattered.
We all know that children need to feel safe. It’s one of their core needs in life. But what no one tells you is that when your child doesn’t feel safe… you don’t either.
And I’ll be honest: I wanted to buy a baseball bat.
Not to use — just to have. Just to feel some kind of control. Some sense of safety.
Shane, being the calm police officer that he is, talked me out of it. “How would you justify owning a baseball bat?” he said. I don’t know. Maybe I liked to play?
But underneath that craving for protection… I was broken.
I hid my tears in the shower, in my bedroom, in hushed calls to family and friends.
And let’s be clear — I wasn’t the one being bullied.
If I felt like this, how was she feeling?
In front of her, I stayed strong. “You’ve got this,” I’d say. I was her rock, even as I was crumbling.
The trauma of it all — her experience, my childhood stuff, the relentless grind of advocacy — it shifted something in me. I felt anxious all the time. Angry. Exhausted. Like my brain had been rewired. I truly believed I’d never feel OK again.
And then there’s this part no one talks about:
The support starts to fade.
People begin with love and compassion. But over time, as the situation drags on (for us, two years), that support can turn to fatigue.
“How many more times can I listen to her cry?”
“Why don’t they just move towns?”
I get it. It’s not their fault. It’s a kind of advocate fatigue. And it’s not sustainable long-term.
But here’s the thing — I didn’t have the luxury of walking away.
I was in it. Every day. Whether I liked it or not.
Each morning, I got up and fought for her.
Advocated.
Broke down in private.
And sometimes, in public — because the weight was just too heavy.
I remember one day in particular. Things were happening again at school. I was so depleted, I couldn’t even tell if I was making rational decisions anymore. I called the school, said I needed to meet with the Deputy Principal — I didn’t care if he had time, I’d wait.
I went in alone.
Had one of the worst meetings of my life.
And came out bawling.
And there she was — my best friend. Waiting outside the school for me. No call, no warning — just knowing I’d need someone. My sister turned up too. They knew. And they showed up.
I’ll never forget the people who stood by us.
Because while I was breaking, they helped hold me together.
Support came from the most surprising places. The kindest people. And my heart will always be grateful.
If you’re in the thick of it too —
Please know this: You’re not alone.
And while you might feel broken, you’re also incredibly strong.
💙
