Stand up to The Bully?

Yes, You have the power!

Hey There!

That day was the last straw for me. “She wanted a fight… so today was her lucky day.”

Who is she? She’s the bully from ninth grade.

Every day, she had something ugly to say to me, always some level of intimidation. At least, looking back, it feels like it was every day. To be honest, I feared her because I was short and skinny and her disposition made her seem like a giant. So I believed I would lose, get hurt, and be embarrassed in front of everyone if I fought back. I think she could smell the fear and that gave her confidence to keep up the pressure; not realizing a change was coming.

That day, in the hallway, I was about to line up for lunch. Before I could secure my spot, there she appeared, poised and ready to intimidate. But not today. Something in me snapped and a new me arose.

I had just come from band class, rushing to lunch as usual. Our band director was phenomenal. He trained us at a level far beyond our years. Memorizing every marching band piece, lining up with precision, holding ourselves to a standard of excellence.

To reach this level, Mr. Felix always kept us past the lunch bell, cutting our lunchtime short. Of course, we hated that part because that was social hour and we missed it most days. It worked out for me in the long run as I became a first chair saxophone and flute player, majorette, and drum major. Our marching band was the pride of Beaufort County and our Concert Band performed beautifully.

But let’s be clear, I couldn’t wait for him to let us go that day. I ran from the band room into the main building, hungry and rushing to get in line before the crowd, but there she was. Something ugly or threatening came out of her mouth and with no pre-planning, no second-guessing, I decided: if a fight was what she wanted, then a fight was what she was going to get.

I stood up to her with a deep, unshakable anger in my soul. It seems like bullying me brought her joy or made her feel powerful. But this time, she wasn’t wielding the power. I was and I let her have it! With my words. My presence. My invitation to a fight. “You want to fight me, then come on,” I yelled. I was enraged. It felt like an out-of-body experience.

All the fear of the past turned into a determination to stand up for myself. I had reached the end of my rope and was no longer willing to succumb to the bully. The energy coursing through my body was unfamiliar. And she felt it.

She saw I wasn’t playing. She called her own bluff. My fists didn’t become necessary because she backed down. Her power lived in my fear, in the intimidation. But when she was faced with fearlessness, she was stunned. Unprepared.

I didn’t know at the time that this was an intuitive release of POWER. Some part of me knew that living from fear was no longer sustainable. That a bully is only effective through intimidation, a pathetic knockoff of real strength. A counterfeit. A mirage. I was born with true power. I just didn’t know it. I wasn’t skilled in how to use it properly. So in that moment I sank to her level in some ways, but rose in power in another.

How do you respond when peace is what your soul desires but the world around you is unkind and full of chaos? You can feel hopeless and learn to shrink back. You could fight and become someone you won’t like. Or you can find another way.

That day I decided: “Stand up and fight, and they’ll leave you alone.”

That belief hardened me. It made me distant, ready to battle, always looking for the next threat coming my way. Hyper-vigilant, especially with girls and later on with women.

Fear-based power.

I built a wall. Kept my circle small. Held my shield high.

I thought I was protecting myself, but I was really building a prison.

I liked being social. I liked laughing, having fun with friends. But the idea of safety superseded it all. I didn’t have the emotional capacity to choose differently. I was sensitive. I cared deeply about peace. I wanted love, for people to be kind to one another. I wanted to be liked.

But that day in the lunch line, I decided that the best protection was to be ready for a fight and keep people at a distance.

So I sent a clear message with my attitude and body language: “Don’t mess with me. Stay away from me if you are not for me.”

When my brother started working at my high school, he would chastise me for not being social. For walking through the halls with my eyes fixed ahead, moving with purpose. No time for chit-chat. No time for caddy girls and their nonsense. I was about my education, about business.

The problem?

I missed out on interactions that could have made high school more fun. More joyful.

Instead, I left high school and never looked back until my 40th class reunion.

Again and again, life reinforced my belief that keeping people at a distance was in my best interest. Interactions with the mean girls, the betrayals, the cold stares were far too frequent, so it appeared that it was safer to lock the door and require a thorough interview process for entrance into my circle.

My introduction to Clemson University only made me double down on my philosophy.

One of my first days on campus, I walked past some sorority girls, and their sharp, rolling eyes could’ve cut me deep.

But no, no, no! My shield was up.

I sent ugly right back.

They became my nemesis for the 2-3 years while they remained on campus. I held a grudge because I knew I had done nothing to them. They didn’t know me. They had no reason. Just reinforcing the need for the protection that distance created.

Now that I’m older, the reason for their behavior has been clarified. I may not have understood my power yet, but they saw it immediately and their insecurities got the best of them.

But back then?

My mindset was simple: Be ready for the fight, and they’ll leave you alone.

So I put on my fighter persona. Not a physical fighter—but the attitude. The energy. The shield. The “I’m good with my closed circle, so stay away” expression.

I was masking the hurt.

The pain of being disliked for simply being me.

And that? That cut deep, even through the shield. Masked but real.

I have since done the work to remember who I really am, to love myself again, and to tap into my real power within. I have developed the skills to stand on my convictions, standards, and values with confidence, no longer relying on anger to feel and appear strong.

Loving myself has meant accepting and embracing my differences; my unique nature that makes me powerful. People look for a box to put you in that makes them comfortable and when you don’t fit, they treat you as an outsider or they “otherize” you. This makes bullying much easier to participate in. But when you know who you are, you powerfully lead from within and no box will ever be big enough to hold you.

Being different is God’s gift to you and to the world. If you were like everyone else, you would blend in and be of little influence and create minimal positive impact. Grasp this fact and everything changes.

No matter your previous successes, there is a next-level calling you forward—a purpose beneath the surface, demanding more of you.

My mission is to be a catalyst for cracking through that surface and to support you in removing the barriers that are blocking the release of your next level. It’s time to ramp up your power flow and drop the counterfeit armor you built to survive life’s challenges.

You don’t need protection. What you need is to remember who you really are. The power you hold within. When you know your power, you don’t have to fight, brace for the fight, or shrink ever again. You set the rules, stand your ground and people move accordingly. Life begins to open up in the most amazing ways.

The walls you built to protect yourself? They’ve served their purpose, but now it’s time to demolish them and move with certainty into the life that’s calling you forward. You are not here to survive the battle—you are here for an abundant life experience.

I am with you,

Trini