Does not play well with others

This was the message my mother found on all of my report cards as a child. I always told her that it wasn't that I didn't like the other kids, it was that they didn't like me. I always blamed them. But year after year, the same me returned to school, and every year I was marked as the kid who did not play well with others. My backpacks were stolen, my lunch torn apart, my hair pulled, my shins kicked, and on and on. I had crying fits. I cried in class and hid under my desk, trying to avoid being noticed. I cried on the playground alone by the fence as far back from the other kids as I could get, and the teachers always came, wondering what sort of unauthorize activities I might be engaging in by the fence, and forced me to go back to the other kids, actively tried to find someone who would play jumprope or tetherball with me. I am perfectly aware now that hiding under my desk and wandering off alone only drew more attention to me, bringing further ridicule. My entire elementary school (and middle school for that matter) career was spent trying not to be noticed, which usually ended up drawing more attention to me and caused me more problems. When I was made fun of for wearing a patch, I could have developed as a class clown had I made it into a joke, but instead I cried, and everyone knew me as the girl who cried over EVERYTHING. It became a game to see how easy it was to make me cry. In sixth grade I was even sent to an afterschool program for children who had "emotional trouble."
Okay, so one might wonder Hmmm... Where is Jeni going with this random narration about her "troubled" childhood. And now I will tell you:
I have realized that in some ways I am still that child who did not play well with others. I still get "bullied" because I don't speak up for myself, I don't appeal to God, and I don't really do anything at all except cry about how crappy my life is or how I'm not good at anything. I cry when someone has hurt me or ignored me, but I don't say anything. I just sit over on the side, crying. Instead of hiding beneath my desk, I hide beneath this blog--It is painfully obvious what is going on underneath, but I think that people won't notice. When people come to ask me what's going on, what's the matter, I lie and say everything's fine and I'm forced to go back to the playground, to the world and hope that no one will notice I've been crying because it makes me look weak, it makes me prey to the bullies and the men and women in my life who think of me as more childish because I cry. If I had been bold enough to ask the people on the playground to let me play with them, if I was bold enough now to ask for prayer for the areas I struggle in, I wouldn't find myself in the corner, trying not to let anyone see me cry. I would be inside, taking care of the things that needed to be taken care of, crying if I needed to, but not because I thought nobody cared. I do not play well with others because I spend my life running away from them, hiding from them.
Nothing made this more clear than a conversation at church this morning. B-Boss and I were talking with Scoey, and he said something along the lines of
I know Jeni can't stop talking when she's around the people she's close to, but the rest of us don't really know much about her. The blogs are nice because they let us know what is going on in her life. That moment was more convicting to me than anything during the service. I do not play well with others because I'm too busy hiding under my desk crying, hiding under my blog where no one SEES me, they just hear my cries. Gulp--where do I begin to remedy this mess? How do I start being open and honest in person with people I've been hiding from for years?