Broken Hearted Monsters

On the Jukebox: "Heart of the Matter" by Don Henley
Quote: "... perhaps all the dragons of our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us once beautiful and brave. Perhaps everything terrible is in its deepest being something helpless that wants help from us." ~ Rainer Maria Rilke (excerpt from Letters to a Young Poet)
Flair: Sticks and Stones

I've decided that "The Formative Years" will be the theme to this week's posts...

Did you ever read that adolescent tear jerker "Bridge to Terabithia"? I read it when I was in the 4th grade and it changed my outlook on one particular thing: Bullies. In the novel, Janice Avery is the school bully who routinely steals little kids' lunches and charges fees to use the bathroom. The young protagonists get even with her and turn her into the laughing stalk of the school. The triumph is short lived when they later discover that Janice is the way she is because she is bullied by an abusive father at home.

Perhaps it was the timing of when I read the book. I was popular and secure in my identity. I had plenty of school chums and no fear of riding the bus. My experience with bullies was limited and my mother taught me how to turn them into friends. Little did I know that a short time later I would come to dread the words, "Seat's taken!" and would actually have a school assembly called where the principal paraded my brothers and me up on stage and declared that, "No one is allowed to go near these white children!" (That's a story for another day...)

I went from living in Mormon-majority St. George, Utah to middle-of-nowhere, poverty stricken Vacherie, LA where I learned a lesson in reverse discrimination. Besides me and my 3 brothers, there were five other white kids (mostly special ed) and a Puerto Rican family. The school was called 6th Ward (and deserved its prison title.) It was as a 6th grader that I endured threats by scissor wielding bullies who wanted to cut my long blonde hair off.

Almost without exception these attacks were brought on by simple misunderstandings. I had a hard time comprehending the local slang and accents and they didn't like my Yankee-girl speak. It didn't change when a semester later I transferred to a better school forty minutes away in Luling. There again language differences got me in trouble, coupled with trying to readjust to being allowed near other children again.

Sometimes we'll never know why we were singled out for attack. Was it our looks or manner of dressing? Something we said or did? The fact that the bully's secret crush showed interest in you even if you didn't reciprocate? And is verbal harassment considered an acceptable form of hazing for new students? Should you just shut up and take it or is that how school shootings happen?

Because of my meek mannered nature, I became the victim of bullies the rest of my school days. Mostly it was teasing, prank calls, and perceived threats... but there were physical blows on a few occasions. I remember being terrified of a girl in my new school who would stand behind me in the lunch line and whisper threats about catching me on my way home. The weird thing is that her rosy cheeked sidekick seemed genuinely sweet. How could someone that angelic hang out with the devil?

It didn't compute, so I knew that there had to be something more to this bully who I'll call 'Chris' (because I had more bullies called Christine, Christy, Christopher, or Chrissy, than any other name.) Chris stood a foot taller than me. Maybe that made her feel like a freak. I was short for a 6th grader but she'd be tall even for a 8th grader. She had a weird last name... that sounded like something a Russian spy might be called. Who knows? Maybe Chris was jealous of my petite build and generic sounding name. I only knew that when I looked at her I saw someone who seemed sad and troubled. She was a broken hearted monster that needed love not pitch forks.

After Chris continued to breathe out more threats I went to the school office to ask for help. I didn't want to tell them who the person bullying me was. I just wanted some advice. I was sure that I could save myself from a beating and help Chris without getting her in trouble. Instead the counselor made my teacher write down the names of the suspected bullies and I had to go to counseling with them (which didn't help me make a lot of friends.) Incidentally, the reason why Chris wanted to beat the tar out of me was she heard me remark that, "she spits in my hair" when what I said was, "gets in my hair" which is a Western term for annoying me. Of course the accent is to blame... and the fact that I hadn't learned to censor myself. From her side of the room Chris used to stare at me with her eyes narrowed to slits and that annoyed/ perturbed me.

If only all bully issues could be solved that easily. Chris and I called a truce. We were never friends and she still treated me with passive aggressive hostility in junior high, but by that time I had a whole new batch of bullies to deal with. Being Latter-day Saint meant that I got lots of anti-Mormon literature poked through my locker vents. I'm sure some of the kids were well meaning but ignorant, but some enjoyed writing "Burn in Hell!!!" on the pamphlets. There were plenty of nasty rumors and pranks that made me contemplate suicide on more than one occasion.

Probably the most ironic part of this post is that the one person I bullied was named 'Kris' and he was the only person newer than me in the school. Someone called him 'Kris the cockroach.' It caught on, but when I tried to use that cruel nickname they turned on me and said I couldn't call him names. I'll never forget the hurt look in his eyes - the betrayal by his only ally. I'm still sorry for it and apologized repeatedly to him. I was trying to fit in at his expense. I was a broken hearted monster that just wanted the approval of her peers and to make a friend.

I'm grateful that I learned empathy at an early age because it taught me to see the good in people. Now that I'm an adult with psychology training I've learned new insight into some of the troubled souls who tortured me. The truth is I have yet to meet anyone who loved their junior high experience. It was a formative time for our identities. We were all fighting hard battles and sometimes the true casualties can only be numbered in hindsight.

For anyone who saw me then as a monster, please forgive me and reframe your impression to see me as Frankenstein's creature longing for sympathy, but was shunned by everyone. That thought brings me back to my quote by Rilke - aren't all monsters really in need of help? As you encounter monsters in your daily life try viewing them as something helpless in need of your help and see if you can transform them into the truly heavenly creatures they are. Embrace the divine spark in everyone you meet. If we should meet again in person I will greet you with Namaste! 'All that is best and highest in me greets/salutes all that is best and highest in you.'