Bullying

I watched an amazingly beautiful video yesterday. It was entitled, "Porkchop", and it was written by a man who was traumatized as a child by bullying. It was a spoken poem with graphics that told the story alongside his spoken words. It was deep, and sad, and moving, and inspirational, and all of the things that good art should be. I was crying at the end of the video, not only for the pain of the countless people who've suffered at the hands of bullies, but also for the knowledge that I have been on both sides of that coin.

When I was very young, I suffered from asthma. From what I've been told, it was life threatening at times. There are pictures of my mom and I from when she had to leave the family to take me to Florida so I could breathe. I outgrew the asthma, but not the trauma that it caused. Nothing scares me more than when my breathing doesn't flow smoothly as it should. Luckily, I don't recall much of the years when my lungs were fighting that battle, but I do remember as a kid having to wear something that resembled a surgical mask when I walked to school during the winter months. You can imagine the fun the other kids had at my expense when they'd see me coming with that on my face! I HATED wearing that thing, but breathing wasn't an option. Not a very poignant story of bullying, I know, but I'm fifty two years old, with many of my childhood memories since faded, but this one remains.

I've struggled with my weight my whole life long. I've never been what I'd consider obese, but I've been a good twenty to thirty pounds overweight many times. Being a heavier child, I always felt inferior to the thinner girls in my class/life. I recall in the fifth grade, my teacher referring to me as an elephant. He said the comment referred to the loud noise my shoes were making that day, but that's not how I internalized it. He made the comment, all the kids laughed, and that just confirmed for me that people saw me as the fat elephant I believed myself to be. That feeling has followed me into adulthood. It's pretty sad, the radical methods I have tried over the years to not feel that way. The Atkins diet, Nutrasystem, Jenny Craig, Weight Watchers, the grapefruit diet, herbal supplements, diet pills, that were later determined to damage your heart, recreational drugs and plain old starvation. Thank God I despised the feeling of vomiting enough that I never fell victim to those methods, but I understand how one could. I finally came to accept that the only way to maintain a healthy weight is through proper nutrition, portion control and exercise, and I now do a fairly good job of maintaining my weight. Trust me though, there are still many days when just about every piece of clothing I own is thrown in a heap on my bed, because when I tried them on and looked in the mirror, all I saw was that elephant.

As I said, I've been on both sides of this coin. As I grew into a teenager, these insecurities drove me to decide I wanted to be the "cool" kid. Of course I didn't realize then, that one person's "cool", is another person's "asshole"! Took me some time to figure that out! As I was watching the video yesterday, I was reminded of a couple of incidents where I was the one doing the bullying. I barely remember the circumstance, but I have a vision of me kicking a girl who was lying on the ground, begging me not to. Two kicks, her tears, then a loud bang on the school window. There stood the principal, who had witnessed this heartless act. Thank God! Saved from myself and all of my insecurities coming out in the form of violence. The second incident I recall, was with a close friend at the time. We'd gotten into an argument while we were at the library, surrounded by other friends. She embarassed me with her sharp tongue, I had no comeback, and the other girls laughed at me. I decided it would be appropriate to later that day, shove her head in her locker while other people watched. That would teach her to embarass me. How very "cool" of me. I should have felt vindicated, but I felt nothing but shame. I remember deciding in that moment, that I didn't want to be that person. I had so much shame surrounding that incident, that I completely blocked it out. That was until I ran into her when I was in my thirties.

I was working one weekend on the North Cove Express, a lovely dinner train that ran out of Essex, CT. I was usually in charge of administrative duties for the train, but on occasion, when they were short staffed, I'd help to wait tables. So on this particular Saturday night, I was greeting people as they boarded the train, and on walks my old girlfriend with her husband. I was so delighted to see her that without thinking, I just threw my arms around her and let her know how great it was to see her again. I was not met with the same enthusiasm, but she was pleasant, introduced me to her husband and I showed them to their seats. After dinner was done, I went over and initiated a conversation with them. Her husband was a train enthusiast, so we discussed the details of the dinner train and some of the fun things we'd done together as friends. Then she said to her husband, "Yeah, that was before Carrie decided to shove my head in a locker", and she half laughed. Her poor husband didn't know what to say to that. Well there it was. Twenty years later, as the North Cove Express drove the tracks back to the station, the intense shame that caused me to block out the incident, was right there, written all over my face, and I couldn't apologize enough. I excused myself, feeling absolutely mortified. When the train came to a halt and the evening was over, she made a point to come and find me, apologized for bringing it up, acknowledged that it was a long time ago and she held no grudges. I said I was sorry one more time, we hugged, this time a little tighter, and they left. This interaction left me wondering, how many others did I hurt that I have no recollection of?

Watching this video yesterday struck me deep. How do we forgive the people from our past who've left an open wound? How do we redeem ourselves from being the one who's left the wound? Should we be accountable as adults for the actions of our childhood selves? How long do we carry the pain, or the guilt, before it's long enough?  I suppose the answer is, as long as we must, before we figure out how to set it free. For me, the road to forgiveness and redemption, is to continue to walk a path of love and compassion and hope that it's enough. In the end, I can only pray that my legacy of love is stronger than anything else I've left behind. In the meantime, to those I've harmed in any way, through my words, or through my deeds, I am deeply, deeply sorry.

xo,
Carrie