Hurt people, hurt people.
Will Bowen
I was bullied when I was in school. From day one actually. I stepped off the school bus, and started following the crowds of kids towards the school entrance…when a kid I didn’t know, had never seen before EVER in my short life – walked up to me and punched me in the stomach. Hard. And walked off.
That event…that one punch, seemed to paint a massive target over me that nobody else but other bullies could see, because I seemed to attract quite a following.
There were the name callers.
The insulters.
(I think ‘Name callers’ are different than ‘insulters’ because being called something like ‘Wus’ or ‘Wimp’ or ‘Pussy’ is different than being made fun of because you wear clothes (second hand stuff) that are not as cool as everyone else’s….or that smell funny because you live on a dairy farm.
The pushers – no..not drug pushers…the dudes who just shove you into other kids, or into walls, or just onto your face just for the heck of it. Those pushers.
The intimidators. I remember one guy who I don’t think ever hit me. Instead, his talent was in scaring me. He acted scary. And he WAS scary. He was tough – always wore a ripped up jean jacket, smoked like a chimney and smelled like it, and did unexpected stuff to scare or catch me off guard. Jumping at me. Raising his fist as if he were about to smack me into next week – then would back away and laugh. He never did anything to me physically, that I can remember – but boy was I scared of him…and did my best to never be around him.
The punchers. (The guy I met on my first day of elementary school was a member of this group.)
The beaters. (Pretty much self explanatory – they just beat the crap out of you.)
I’m 43 now, and I have kids of my own. One of them is going through a situation with bullies at school, and now that my wife and I know what has been going on – we’re all over it!
We’ve been at his school to talk with his teacher. We’ve been with him to talk to the principal, and the vice principal.
And not just once.
Many times.
And I’ve seen one of the bullies. My son showed me who his primary tormentor was.
And I saw something different as I watched the kid.
When I was my son’s age, all I saw was a bully. Someone who hated me…and someone I hated and tried to avoid the best I could.
But today I don’t see that, maybe because I’m not the victim anymore.
Instead… I see someone who is hurting.
One of my son’s friends who knows the bully told me a little about him.
“He cuts himself.” He said the other day. “Even tried to get me to do it with him.”
I was shattered.
Hurt people hurt people.
We also found out that the kid doesn’t have his parents around anymore. Don’t know what happened…but the people who are supposed to be his primary care givers are no longer in the picture.
Don’t know if they’re dead.
Don’t know if they’re just plain not interested.
But whatever the case – they’re gone. The kid lives with extended family.
And cuts himself.
That’s sad to me.
I hate that he has been hurting and messing with my son…and I want him to stop and never bother him again.
But I’m no longer seeing a label.
Name caller? Nope.
Insulter? Nope.
Pusher? Nope.
Beater.? Nope.
Hurting? Yes. And deeply…and I’m not entirely sure what to do about it…
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