To Hell in a Hand Basket

Has anyone else noticed the increasing number of links to bullying stories online recently? Many of them featuring children who have committed suicide to escape bullying. Children. 

I want to tell a story right now. And it's not about my brother (that's coming later).


Fortunately I was never a recipient of bullying. I mean, every kid gets pushed or yelled at on the playground at least once, but it was never a recurring issue for me. I honestly don't know why. I went through my awkward stage just like any other person. We moved frequently, so I was often the new kid. I was most often the only Mormon in any school I was attending (with the exception of my little brother). And I cut my own hair. Twice.

But miraculously I managed to slip under the bully radar.

I think I knew I was blessed in this respect. I think maybe I was born knowing that. It may be for that reason that my heart has always ached for those who don't have that kind of luck. Like most of you, I have always been afraid of hurting someone's feelings. I have always wanted to right the wrongs when I saw them. And I have never felt the desire to bully someone.

Well, except this one time.

I remember being in the lunch line in fifth grade. The boy in front of me (we'll call him Adam) was the outsider of the class. Adam and I had a good relationship. He was a really sweet kid. Always smiling. Hair always a little unkempt. Clothes always a little too big. But we were kind of buddies. The kids behind me were not the outsiders of my class. And I was in the middle. Always in the middle. And on that day, I'd had enough of being in the middle.

The kids behind me started picking on Adam. I said nothing. He looked at me for a little help. I did nothing. The more he looked at me, the more unfair I felt it was that I was always in the middle. And the more I felt sorry for myself the further away I got from doing the right thing.

Then I opened my big fat mouth. And I did the wrong thing.

I don't remember what I said. It probably wasn't super harsh considering the worse thing I have ever called anyone is a poop head. But it was enough.

Adam looked at me again. He wasn't smiling anymore. "You too?" was all he said.

This is where I could give you a bunch of excuses. There are always excuses for bullies. Insecurity. Bad home life. Didn't eat their Wheaties. Etc. But there really aren't any good excuses. There weren't for me. There aren't for anyone. And at that moment I hated myself. I hated myself because I had no answer I could give him except: Yes, me too. Me too, because I care more about myself than about you.

Epic fail.

I don't know if I ever tried to make it up to Adam. I'm sure I did, because that is the kind of thing that would keep me up at night for a year had I not done anything about it. But even if he forgave me (which I'm sure he did, because he was just that kind of kid) no apology would ever have been quite adequate. I had contributed to the damaging of a precious self-esteem. I realized then and there in the cafeteria line that I never wanted to feel that way again. I never wanted to have that same self-loathing. I never again wanted to see that kind of hurt in someone's eyes. Hurt that I put there. Hurt that so easily could have been prevented.

Now I will say something about my brother, because he's the reason I know things. My little brother had one of the kindest hearts I have ever known. He was small for his age until his Sophomore year of high school. He had ADHD, wasn't the tidiest kid in the universe, and he read dragon books and liked them. But he was my brother, my little buddy, my friend since age 2. And every unkind word said to him was etched in his memory. And I assure you it was never erased. I'm sure those words were the loudest the hour that he left this earth.

Now, I know he is an extreme example, but essentially he is just like anyone else. We all have our weaknesses, and none of us like to be reminded of them, let alone have them rubbed in our faces. Let alone shoved down our throats. And when we are reminded, when we are poked and prodded, we don't easily forget. The bad builds on itself.

Luckily some of us are blessed with the ability to look beyond insults. But so very many of us are not. Some of us, when you peel away a few of our rough outer layers, just aren't that tough. And for some of us, when the bad outweighs the good for too long, there no longer seems to be a way out of it.

I know many of you are probably tired of me talking about stuff like this. But nothing is more important. Every soul is of infinite worth. And if enough of us care, we really can make this world a better place to live in. A better world for our children to go to school in and develop in. Who knows! Maybe they won't all develop complexes.

Maybe.

Listen, I am sure we have all had our moments we aren't proud of. That's what the Atonement is for. That's what forgiveness is all about. I'm not saying we should beat ourselves up forever. I'm just saying that the buck stops here. And after it stops here, we can do something about making improvements. That's all I'm saying, really. 

What do you think is the best way to prevent bullying?

P.S. Tree decorating tips & ornament DIY coming later tonight.