Bullying? Probably

I just read an article about a woman who was bullied by her fellow students in high school. On the occasion of her 25th reunion, she published a poem so that her classmates could see what had happened. Their responses, through the eyes of experience, were positive and resulted in a scholarship being set up in her name to prevent this happening again, and much forgiveness and cleansing took place.

About the best outcome possible from a situation like that - a strong, resilient individual, and people with enough humanity to admit that they were wrong and try to amend matters.

I got to thinking about my final years of elementary school, and realized that I just felt numb when I thought about the years up until my family moved in Grade 8. Why was that? As I thought and tried to remember, a large orange inserted itself in my throat, and I felt like crying. This was an interesting reaction. Then I remembered.

"Rooney's! You've got Rooney's" they would yell as they touched me and then tried to pass the "fleas" along. Never mind that my family was one of the most respected in the town. Never mind that I was a clean, well-dressed, well cared-for child. I had "fleas".

Even writing about this makes me feel like crying. Why did I dredge up this pain? What can I do now?

Maybe I can help somebody. Maybe somebody needs to talk to someone who has been marginalized, felt unloved, uncertain. Maybe somebody needs to know that it can get better.

To this day, I don't know what caused me to be so ostracized. Was I spoiled? The third of three, and the only girl, maybe to a certain extent. Was I different? Well, my parents never drank or smoked, my mom was a nurse and worked in a nursing home. My Dad was a minister, and I spent a lot of time doing things at the church. Neither of them played sports, or hung out at the bars. I guess that made me "different". We went to church every week, and I didn't play sports if I had to play on Sunday.

I studied music and read a lot. I escaped in the ways I could, but it was a lonely path.

Things got better after we moved. The kids didn't know me, didn't know my background and it was a new start. After awhile, though, it started to happen again, but to a lesser extent.

I tried to fit in. I learned how to smoke. I hung out with anyone who would let me, and I didn't work at school. Good grades were for the nerdy kids who nobody liked. I desperately wanted to be liked.

I joined the school band, and hung out in the music room during spares and lunch. At least it was someplace I was welcome.

In the high school I attended, there were over 2000 students, so there were friends for all, and I eventually found my group. Even so, though, nobody wanted to date a chubby, glasses-wearing smart girl. I never had a date, went to a prom, or hung out with any of the cool kids. I wasn't invited to parties, went with my Dad if I wanted to go to movies, and generally spent most of the time alone.

By Grade 11, I was just too sad. I wouldn't go to school, wouldn't leave my bed, and didn't see any future. I never considered suicide - it would hurt my parents, who loved me, far too much. There was no solution. I remember sitting with the school psychologist and just crying. That's all. I had nothing to say, and no hope.

One day, I woke up and decided that I was stronger than this. I made myself do things, talked less and listened more. It was too late to really save high school, but the new habits followed me to University and my life changed. What caused this? Well, I know that many people were praying for me. I'm sure that had a great deal to do with it.

Was I bullied? I guess there's no doubt, really. That bullying led to depression and had I not found strength through my faith and family to overcome it, I know I would have required some medical intervention.

Now, I have many friends who love me, a caring, kind and loyal spouse of 27 years, two kids who tell me I'm a "Cool Mom" and lots of people to talk to. Being bullied has made me the person I am. I will not tolerate prejudice (one kid in high school didn't like me because he "heard about me" from other kids). I will not allow people to be treated badly because of who they love or the colour of their skin, or whatever makes them "different" (what makes any of us different?). Everyone needs to be safe, and I try to provide that safety for people - because I know how it is to feel unsafe.

My kids don't call me a "cool Mom" because I let them do stupid, age-inappropriate things, or because I try to be one of them. They call me that because they know that no matter what they tell me, I will listen and try not to judge. Their friends engage me in conversation; some are Facebook friends (their request) and I hope that if one of them needs to talk and doesn't know where to turn, they will come to me.

I've never told this story before. It has been a numb place in my memory, and one that I put far in the past. I think now it's time to remember and share how hurtful it is to be bullied, how shameful it is to shun people, and how much we need to leave judging to the One who made us, who loves us, who cares for us, and who will ultimately decide what our eternal home will be. I am happy to disagree with you in love, as long as you will respect my views, as much as I respect yours, or at least your right to have them.

Now I don't want to talk about it anymore.