Where does Bullying Start?

I grew up in a suburb outside a large city in the United States. Many of my memories from childhood are fuzzy or absent. The two earliest memories I have are of getting my head stuck in a very old pull out bed, and running into the edge of a coffee table head first during a family gathering. It may have been during a holiday. When I was very young, I'd guess under ten years old. I was at a relatives house jumping up and down on a pull out bed. I was being encouraged by my father to up the intensity of my jumping and as I was coming down from from one of the jumps, I fell. My head landed between the edge of the frame and the medal spring board. The next memory I have is laying face down on one of those tables with a hole in it for your face and an emergency room doctor was stitching the wound in my head. I remember losing a piece of gum that a family member gave me as I was screaming.  I have less memories of the second situation. I had a lot of energy as a child.

I'm not sure why I would begin a blog about bullying at this junction. I guess what sticks with me with these memories is that they are my first lasting scars. As I look down at my arms I have two other scars. I was pushed through a window by a child who was chasing me when I was probably in middle school. The child in this memory lived across the street from me and was what I thought was a friend. We hung out playing hide and go seek with the other children in the neighborhood. I remember enjoying epic 20 to 30 child games of cops and robbers that to the dismay of our neighbors took place across a couple suburban blocks. We cut through yards and hoped over fences chasing each other. Mostly I remember hanging out at this child playing the first Super Nintendo. Super ,ario brothers. The child always sough control over the game and I spent must of my time there watching him play. One day we were playing outside of his house. And something happened and he was chasing me. I lived across the street and ran towards the safety of my house. As I was reaching the door I was pushed. My arm went through the window that was to the right of the door knob. I remember staring at the laceration in my arm with a weird wonder. Is that what my insides look like? The first shot of pain came to me when I was in the emergency room and the Dr. shot right into the wound with a plastic needle. I have not experienced a pain to this extent in my life.