AITA for finally sharing the bullying I endured at school, even though it makes people uncomfortable?

I (26F) have a podcast where I talk about life, healing, and things I wish someone had told me sooner. Recently, I did an episode about the bullying I went through at my private Christian school from 2014 to 2017. I graduated from a different high school in 2018 and college in 2022. I only aired this episode two weeks ago.

Some old classmates and a couple of former teachers have now said I’m “making the school look bad,” “dragging up old drama,” and “embarrassing people who have families now.” A few even called me an asshole for “airing out the past.” I want to be clear: I didn’t say anyone’s names. I didn’t name the school. I only shared my story.

I joined the school mid-year. No friends. No warning. Just straight into a room full of kids who instantly decided they didn’t like me. No one tried to get to know me. No one gave me a chance. I walked in nervous, hoping for one friendly face. Instead, I got whispers, eye rolls, and disgusted looks before I even put my backpack down.

Middle school quickly became brutal. Name-calling, rumors, exclusion from lunch tables, projects, even the hallways. It was intentional. Every day was a reminder that I didn’t belong. I remember wondering, “What did I do? I don’t even know these people yet.”

Every adult saw it. Every single one. And none of them stepped in. The only relief came from my 8th grade English teacher, who later became my art teacher. Her classroom became my sanctuary. When the bullying got too heavy, I hid in the art room. Paint, pencils, silence — the only place I felt human.

High school didn’t get better. Same building. Same class. Same people. And now it wasn’t just the handful of middle school bullies — the entire school joined in. Every day felt like walking into a battlefield with no armor.

We had a retreat meant for connection, worship, and growth. For me, it became one of the worst experiences of my life. At the pool, a group of students held my head underwater. Not joking. Not an accident. They did it because they hated me. When I surfaced gasping for air, nobody apologized. Nobody checked on me. The adults said nothing.

Every field trip, they tried to leave me behind. Sometimes they almost succeeded. And guess what? No consequences. No conversations. Nothing.

The faculty knew. They saw it, heard it, and were told. And they looked the other way. When adults ignore abuse, they become part of it.

Being a teenager, going to school every day knowing not a single student or adult wanted you there, it breaks you. I stopped believing in myself. Started shrinking. Started thinking maybe I was the problem.

By 11th grade, I had nothing left. Mentally, emotionally, spiritually — I was done. After 11th grade, I didn’t go back. Walking away felt like the first breath of air after being underwater for years. It wasn’t instant healing, but it was the beginning of freedom.

To anyone going through something similar: you are not the problem. You are not unlovable. You deserve safety, support, and peace. One day, you will walk out of your own version of that school — and breathe again.

Some old classmates say I should’ve “moved on” and that I’m trying to “make them look bad.” But I didn’t name names. I didn’t name the school. I only shared my story. I’m not doing it for revenge. I’m doing it because silence is what kept me miserable for years.

So… AITA for talking about the bullying I experienced, even if it makes people uncomfortable now?