There's a tendency in my mind to gloss most of it over. In fourth grade, one girl had all the other girls shun me - at lunch, at recess, at break-times. All because she THOUGHT I'd said something absolutely horrible and wicked and nasty, and as clueless and naive as I was at age TEN, I wouldn't have ever said it. Her mother had multiple sclerosis and was slowly dying. She and her one sister were living with their aunt while her OTHER sister and brother were living somewhere else. I can't even begin to imagine the hurt she was going through. But she thought I said that I at least had a mother, and so the shunning began. Even though every. single. girl. came up to me behind her back and said that they still liked me. This girl's clout was intense. I would go home and cry. I tried to bribe the girl with deeds, with offerings. I gave her a pair of awesome white boots with a fringe on the back, hoping she'd be my friend again. Eventually she did, but not after months of me feeling like crap.
This girl, Lindsey, was a catalyst for other awful things. Ripping up my friend Sarah's school photo (because didn't everyone hang those photos up in their locker, too?) to let her know that she wasn't my friend anymore, even though Sarah hadn't done ANYTHING. (Echoes of the past.)
Then the rough years: Poor, awkward, uncoordinated, prone to acne, desperate... Boys would bark at me while I walked down the halls. I hunkered down, did my school work, slogged on.
In 8th grade, the three girls* I hung out with regularly ditched me at the homecoming football game. And when I found them and confronted them, they just stood there and smiled. I used the school payphone to call my mom to come get me and I cried the whole way home. That same year, another group of girls whom I'd been hanging out with (after the first group shunned me) politely asked me not to sit with them at lunch anymore. Sadly, I knew that was coming. After a shunning or two, you just sense these things.
During all of these years, I had people sneer at me, put kick-me notes on my back, pretend to be nice to me while waiting for me to take the bait in order to use me as the butt of jokes, have me around to be the ugly friend, have me ask my mother to buy beer for them, make fun of my hair and my clothes, gyrate their groins in my face when I went to my locker, and call me all sorts of names.
In tenth grade, I took journalism. In the middle of tenth grade, I discovered theater. And then I was untouchable. I didn't care anymore. I found amazing people and did amazing things and I removed myself from the main. I didn't care that people called me a lesbian because I held hands with my best friend and wore a tie. I didn't care if my grades threw out the curve. It didn't matter.
So, you know what, I understand bullying. I know that kids are mean. Trust me. But, as an adult now, I also know that kids are mean because they are missing something. Lindsey was hurting because of her mother and her family life. Others were insecure and wanted to secure their place in the pack. Some were just plain jealous (and of what, I'm not sure). Fine, whatever. I am tempered steel forged by fire because of it. To this day, I'm not sure exactly what made me a target. What was it about me that made people want to figuratively push and shove?
But, thing is, I had a mother who always always ALWAYS took the time to wipe the tears off my face and stroke my hair and hug me and tell me I was beautiful and that it would be okay. I had two teachers who singled me out and encouraged me to be whatever I wanted, to do the impossible - Barb Roy and Jeanene Rethlake. I am so thankful for these three women. They believed in me. They made me realize that it would get better, that *I* was better. And then, of course, there was my drama family - Shannon, Levi, Jim, Jesse, Jenny, Sarah (yes, the same one as above)...
I had amazing support around me. I had people who cared. I could have turned out very different if I'd been alone or not believed or unloved, but I wasn't, so I'm not. I have forgiven every single person who made my life hell, who made me go home and cry after school, who made me feel like less of a person because of some THING which I can't pinpoint. Granted, it doesn't mean I want to be friends with all of them, but I can leave the awfulness behind me and move on. Because, you know what? I'm pretty damn awesome.
I have a wonderful life to lead, and now I have a wonderful son to raise. I want to do right by him. I want him to love the world, be prepared for pitfalls and, yes, bullies. I will do what I can, and if he comes home crying, I will believe him and my heart will break because I will understand.
~Trina
*(whom I eventually became friends with again, and to this day, they have proven themselves to be amazing women; I never asked why they treated me that way, and I don't even know if they'd remember, 19 years later. it's probably not even a moment as etched in their minds as it is in mine)
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