Last week, while my husband was away on a business trip, with many sleepless late-night hours to fill, I got on a Netflix documentary kick. Into the wee hours of the morning, I became enlightened to the challenges of living with bipolar disorder, saw jaw-dropping accounts of extreme hoarding, and peeked out over the top of my covers in horror as I watched reenactments of people being mauled by wild animals. Then I ran across a documentary on bullying in our schools, and passed over it, fearing it would trigger painful recollections of my own childhood experiences. But the show kept calling me to watch it, as if a subconscious part of me needed to know what our kids are going through today. I gave in and clicked on it.
What I saw was so sad. Nothing has changed since I was in school. If a kid is the least bit different, they are at risk for being bullied by their peers. At first I cried buckets of tears, and then, I became nail-spitting mad at the bullies, and the teachers who turned a blind eye. And yes, as I had expected, I was taken back to those excruciating days when I was made fun of for my high-water pants and greasy hair. Having been bullied, I can tell you there is no deeper wound than being rejected and humiliated by the very people whose acceptance you seek most. A child should never have to suffer in this way.
Some of the kids in the documentary were so tortured by their bullies, in order to escape the pain, they ultimately took their own lives. Committed suicide at eleven and twelve years old! This got me to wondering why I didn't consider doing the same when I was a kid. I was abused at home, bullied at school. God knows I was miserable enough to at least be entitled to the notion. But suicide never once crossed my mind, and the reason is really quite simple: Death wasn't an option for me. I was too busy trying to survive to even consider dying. Looking back, I realize my life may not have actually been in danger, but, with a child's mind, I thought it was, and when you think you're in danger, automatic survival instincts kick in.
By the time I was in Jr. high school, I did, however, find a way to fight back. I was on the staff of the school newspaper, and could pretty much write about anything I wanted, so I decided to write about the cruel way some kids were treating those of us who were "different." In hindsight, I'm not clear what I expected to accomplish by doing this. Maybe I thought calling these bullies out might magically make them like me, or feel so ashamed by my words that they would stop making fun of other kids. I can't tell you what I was hoping for, but I can tell you what actually happened. The publication of the article only made things worse. Of course, I didn't mention any names, but the guilty parties somehow knew who they were (why is it usually the popular kids?), and they offered some snide remarks and dirty looks, and their teasing and ridicule of me continued with even more viciousness. But I also remember enjoying a silent, personal victory, because at least I got their attention. It was perhaps the first time I realized the true power of the written word.
My life at home was actually worse than my life at school, so I believe for that reason, I developed a high tolerance for abuse of any kind. But most kids don't have such thick skin. Being bullied is crushing and devastating, and sometimes leads them to a lonely, hopeless place, with nowhere to turn for help. They seldom go to their parents, because kids are often too ashamed to disclose they've been cast out by their peers, too embarrassed to admit they don't have friends. And I get that. Even if I'd had loving parents, I wouldn't have told them about my predicament because of this shame.
So what can I pass on to parents and grandparents from my experience? Your kid is most likely not going to tell you if he or she is being bullied at school. You have to be proactive and look for the signs yourself. Does your child consistently find excuses not to go to school? Has he or she suddenly become withdrawn? Does he or she never get invited to a friend's house for a sleepover? If so, there's a chance your child may be hiding something. And believe me, this is one dark and dangerous road you do not want your baby to travel alone.
