When someone is repeatedly targeted by bullying, their nervous system never truly switches off. They walk into school, into work, or into their own home with a quiet sense of anticipation: “Is it going to happen again today?” That level of vigilance shows up in the body long before the mind catches it. A child who suddenly gets “mystery stomachaches” every morning. A child who used to be expressive becomes flat. A teenager who can’t sleep, wakes up exhausted, or constantly says they feel sick. An adult who used to be confident becomes hesitant. An adult partner who collapses on the couch every night, not from physical labour but from the invisible strain of “holding it together.” Someone you love starts apologising too quickly, withdrawing too easily, doubting themselves far too often. If someone is criticised enough, they eventually internalise the voice. If someone is rejected enough, they begin to self-reject before anyone else can do it to them. Depression, anxiety, panic, intrusive thoughts, don’t appear out of nowhere. They’re often born from long stretches of “enduring” what no one should have to endure. Chronic stress weakens immunity, drains energy and chips away at health in ways that look unrelated until you zoom out and see the pattern. Bullying doesn’t just hurt feelings it injures the body trying to survive it. One of the hardest things for parents and partners to witness is the slow, quiet disappearance of someone who is hurting. Victims often pull back from social circles, not because they don’t want connection, but because connection suddenly feels dangerous. For a child, this might look like staying in their room, avoiding team sports, or suddenly dropping a hobby they once loved. For adults, it looks like turning down invitations, avoiding work social events, closing off emotionally, preferring isolation over the risk of being hurt again Isolation feels safe in the short term… but it deepens the wound in the long term. It creates a loop: “I’m alone because I’m not good enough” which creates deeper isolation, which reinforces their belief.

One of the strange things about adult bullying is how rarely it feels dramatic. Most of the time, it feels confusing and easy to dismiss. It’s the conversation you walk away from and replay to later. The strange tone shift in an email. The joke that lands a bit too sharply, but not sharply enough to call out without feeling awkward. The subtle change in energy when you enter a room. The way your idea is brushed past and then praised when it comes from someone else. Individually, none of these things seem “bad enough.” Together, over weeks or months, they start to change how you show up. You become more careful. More reserved. You speak less. You doubt yourself more. Not because of one big moment, but because of a slow accumulation of small ones. That’s what makes adult bullying difficult to talk about. There’s often no single event you can point to and say, “This is it.” So you start questioning your own perception instead. And because adults are supposed to be “mature,” we tell ourselves to just push through, be professional, not take things personally, rise above it… even when something in us knows it doesn’t feel right. I personally feel that the healthiest response isn’t to understand the other person better, explain yourself more clearly, or try harder to smooth things over. It’s simply to notice the pattern and take it seriously. It might start with not laughing along. Not explaining yourself as much. Not volunteering extra information. Not over-apologising. Not rushing to smooth over tension. You're building your self-respect back up in small doses. The bully usually notices this before anyone else does. They feel the loss of access. The lack of reaction. The emotional door that used to be open is not there now. When you do this the dynamic changes, because you’re no longer trying to manage their emotions for them. It doesn't have to be dramatic. A boundary doesn’t have to be an argument. It can be as small as shifting how much access someone has to you. How much you share. How much energy you offer in return. You are deciding and taking control. They’re no longer someone who gets the same version of you, and you don’t need to win anything for it to be a healthy choice.

Ask most people what comes to mind when they hear the word bullying, and you’ll see images of playgrounds, hallways, and lunchrooms. We imagine children and teenagers navigating cliques, insults, physical intimidation, and social rejection. What we don’t often talk about is what happens to those patterns when we grow up. In adulthood, bullying rarely looks like a lunch-money demand or a shove into a locker. It becomes subtle, polished, and harder to name. It wears business attire. It hides behind emails, tone, body language, status, and social power. And because society expects maturity in adults, victims often doubt their own experience. They tell themselves they’re being too sensitive, overreacting, or misunderstanding the situation. That doubt is exactly what allows the behavior to continue and escalate. Adult bullying is everywhere. It shows up in workplaces, relationships, sporting clubs, friend groups, families, and even community activism circles where kindness is part of the public message. It’s not loud all the time. In fact, the most damaging forms of adult bullying happen quietly. Most adult bullies are not born cruel. They are formed. The root of adult bullying almost always tracks back to unresolved childhood dynamics. Children who felt powerless, invisible, ridiculed, neglected, or constantly criticised often develop one of two coping strategies as they grow. They shrink, or they compensate. Adult bullies fall into the second category. They learn, consciously or unconsciously, that control equals safety. That dominance equals respect. That intimidation equals strength. And because no one ever taught them how to regulate their emotions properly, bullying becomes their emotional release valve. Anger, jealousy, fear, shame, and insecurity leak out through sarcasm, criticism, public humiliation, subtle exclusion, gossip, and professional sabotage. Ironically, many adult bullies were once victims themselves. But instead of doing the hard, uncomfortable work of healing, they choose replication. It’s a handed-down trauma pattern. Hurt, unexamined, doesn’t disappear. It looks for an outlet. In childhood, that outlet is often physical. In adulthood, it becomes psychological.

What Every Parent Needs to Truly Understand As a parent, your instinct is to fix the problem quickly. To call the school. To confront the other child. To make the pain stop today. That instinct comes from love. But before solutions and action plans, what most parents need first is solid understanding. Not just of what bullying looks like on the surface, but of how it actually works beneath it, and why it affects children so deeply. Bullying is not just “mean behaviour.” It’s not a one-off comment or a bad day between kids. True bullying is a pattern. It’s repeated. It’s deliberate. And most of the time, it is about power and control, not personality clashes. One of the most overlooked tools a bully uses is anonymity. When there is no clear face, no clear name, no obvious accountability, the behaviour escalates. Online, that might be fake profiles, anonymous messages, group chats with hidden identities, or accounts that disappear and re-appear. In person, it can be whispers behind backs, notes without names, rumours that “just appear,” or damage done when no one is watching. For a child, anonymity is terrifying. There is no single person to be wary of. It could be anyone. Every laugh in the hallway feels suspicious. Every vibration of a phone creates tension. Every quiet moment becomes loud in their mind. This creates a state of constant alert, a young nervous system that never fully relaxes. It is exhausting. And that exhaustion alone can affect sleep, concentration, confidence, and overall mental health. Then there is fear, the true engine that keeps bullying alive. Fear doesn’t always come from direct threats. Often it’s implied. Fear of what might happen if they speak up. Fear of being more embarrassed. Fear of losing friends. Fear that the adults will make it worse. Fear of retaliation that happens when no one is around. Over time, fear becomes the bully’s voice inside the child’s own head. It tells them to stay quiet, to stay small, to tolerate things they should never have to tolerate.