The last week I have been reading the book "Heaven in Here", by Stephanie Nielson, author of the blog, the NieNie Dialogues. In case you don't know her story, she is an amazing women who was in a plane crash four years ago with her husband and a good friend. The friend died, her husband broke his back and severely burned parts of his body; she,flat-lining twice on the way to and once at the hospital, suffered severe burns over 80%of her body including her neck and face. Her story is one of tragedy, pain, and sorrow, but also one of extreme triumph, love and faith.
Every night after I put the kids to bed, I would sit on my couch and read for an hour. Why only an hour? Because that hour consist of several laughing out loud moments, but even more crying my eyes out sessions. I emotionally could only handle a hour. A particular item the would get to me was the issue related to her personal feeling about her image and beauty, especially right after the accident. Even more so, the way people of the world seemed to treat her. Stares, horrified looks, and even hurtful words have been said to this women as she continues to grow and live her life.
One incident in particular that really punctured my soul, included a trip to the grocery store. While there a women turned and looked at Stephanie, then proceeded to say, and I quote; "Oh, I feel just the way you look." I couldn't believe that someone would think, let alone utter those words. It got me thinking about different incidences in my life where words really stung. From there my mind wondered to the string of recent shootings and bombings this country has seen. Especially ones carried out by and directed towards young adults, school aged kids. After such events people often ask Why? Why would someone do this. But that thought doesn't usually come to my mind. I simply understand.
I in no way believe that such actions are right, ok or even perhaps forgivable. I truly believe in personal agency and consequences for ones actions. But I also recognize that I myself are not too far removed from those choices others have made.
The first years of my schooling are great memories. I went to Kindergarten with my cousin, and best friend. And even though all the boys seemed to think she was the cuter one I too remember feeling liked and special. Same goes for the next couple years. Then in second grade everything changed.
I can remember the first time I was teased and felt disliked. My family had just moved and in doing so I started at a new school. I remember being nervous but excited to go. At school my seat was in a group with three other desk. I sat down with two other boys and a girl. The three of them were talking to each other and seemed to know each other well. As I sat there listening to their conversation, one of the boys looked to the other and asked, "Who's the other girl?" The boy looked at me and then replied. "I don't know, she must be new... and she's Fat" The two chuckled together. Fat? I had never heard that word describe me ever. I was defiantly not a skinny mini, but I was not overweight either. I was completely crushed by their remarks and silently sat their the remainder of the day repeating the words, I'm Fat.
It didn't take long for my thoughts to become self prophecy. I turned to food as comfort and did quickly gain weight. By Third grade the teasing intensified when every day at recess, two sixth grade boys followed me around the playground calling me every awful name that had to do with my appearance or weight. I told teachers and Yard duties of the bullying on several occasions, but it always became a "he said she said" incident and nothing would be said or done. I learned quickly to suppress my feelings and internalize them. It seemed the more I tried to do or say something about it the worse it got. Again I would sit silently.
When I say I understand the extreme actions kids have taken, it is to say I know the feeling of pent up hurt and anger quickly erupting in a moments notice resulting in actions that defiantly were not part of who I was or how I was raised. One day in Fifth grade a boy accused me of breaking a swing, completely untrue, and then went on to yell across the play ground to friends that " Her Fat A** broke the swing". I distinctly remember having this instance sensation of piercing heat through out my body, similar to reaching out and touching a hot stove top. The emotions exploded out of my body, and in an out of body experience I grabbed the boy by the collar, threw him to the ground and then preceded to kick him repeatedly in the chest and head. Moments later, but what felt like several minutes, the bell for class rang, and I remember snapping out of my rage. I instantly felt sorrow and confusion but still felt a surge of anger that I quickly suppressed.
I didn't have another incident like that again until Junior High. As the teasing continued I remained silent, pushing down all emotions of hurt and replaced them with thoughts of self hatred. I once again became a ticking time bomb. In Seventh grade a popular boy sat behind me in my Science class. He and his friend sitting next to him had been bugging me for days. Poking me from behind and pulling at the end of my hair. The third day of class started the same with pokes and taps on the back. When I would turn around the boys would make ugly faces at me and tell me to turn back around. Then one of the boys had the idea to crumple up small pieces of paper and throw them at my back. One of those pieces missed my back and hit the side of my face. The boys giggled, and I once again remember the heat. I quickly turned around pounded his desk with both my fist as hard as I could and screamed at the top of my lungs; "LEAVE ME ALONE!" The once silent science class all turned to look in our direction, and the teacher told me to go outside of the class room and sit. I sat there crying trying to figure out what exactly had just happened. The teacher joined me several minutes later and proceeded to ask me what was wrong,and why would I scream like that in his class. When I couldn't answer him, because I didn't truly understand my feelings at the moment, he told me to take a walk and go cool off until the bell rang for the next class in a few minutes. Again nothing more was ever done or said, and I was left feeling like I was the problem.
After that the only time I would have outburst were at home. I would take my pain and frustrations out on my siblings and parents. I even resorted to physically hitting my brothers and sister and breaking possessions of mine, just to release the anger and pain. Years later I attended counselling sessions to deal with the chronic depression I was dealing with at that time. Through those discussions, I began to realize just how much anger i had been holding on to and exactly how hurt and broken I was. Not only from the actions of others, but perhaps even more so by the thoughts and words I spoke to myself. When I think back to that day at the playground I am often plagued by the thought of how lucky I am and how terribly wrong that day could have gone. Just one more kick or hitting the wrong spot could have lead to that boy being seriously injured, and me telling this story from a place different than the comforts of my own home. I pause to reflect how in a moment you can seem to loose self awareness, and in a brief out of body experience make choices that will forever impact your life and the lives around you.
I feel to understand is to change. When we better understand the hows and whys of a situation, we become pliable. We have the opportunity to regain the power and do better in the world. I wished people understood the power of their words. It has been said that many of the shooters and bombers were outcast, loners, and often teased. It proves to show that the old adage that words will never hurt you is just untrue. Unfortunately words do hurt and can leave lasting consequences.
I have pondered why my story ended differently then others. Perhaps it was my upraising, a strong family with a strong religious background. Or perhaps it was that others had just one too many incidences of pain occur, maybe they exploded just one too many times. Unable to take one more second of cutting words and actions they choose to no longer try to understand. And that, that I understand....
14 years ago
