labelleizzy | The lowest I had ever sunk... (shameful confessions)

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The lowest I had ever sunk... (shameful confessions)

This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you.
*wince*

I didn't have what I would have thought of as a "happy childhood". Suffice it to say that there was enough pain in my life that I chose to live almost entirely in books from a very early age. Also I think it's fair to say that I had a lot of difficulty making friends even under the best of circumstances. The neighborhood kids and I didn't get along, and where I'm what we now call "geek", they were all what we'd call "jocks". Family dynamics at home weren't "nourishing", and I spent almost all the time I wasn't in school, alone. That didn't change till junior high, when I finally found a safe place to make friends of my own, friends that my sister didn't know about and couldn't mercilessly tease me about.

It will be a surprise to no one that I was regularly bullied almost every day in junior high school.

So, I was humongously awkward. An ugly duckling in so very many ways, lacking in social skills and without confidence to make proper conversation with new people (which was *everyone*) at my new high school.

Somehow, eventually, I did find a few people who warmed up to me, starting with one friend who'd just moved into town and didn't know anyone else, and gradually getting to know some people I'd known slightly in junior high. I still had huge amounts of anxiety around social interactions. Thinking of my freshman year in high school is enough to bring the memory of metallic-tasting panic to the back of my throat, even ~~twenty-five~~ thirty years later.

(God, this is difficult to write.)

There was this small group of what I would now call geeky guys. Robert, Mark, and Erik.

My lack of experience in any kind of social interaction, my extreme anxiety (that I was fighting to overcome on a daily basis), and the, well, let's face it, neglectful home environment, all meant that it was easy for me to mistake attention of any kind for positive attention. My sister and I were used to hitting, punching, hair pulling and scratching each other on a regular basis; my dad was either emotionally distant, physically not there, or verbally abusive; Mom had her hands full juggling the whole household and a full-time job, and my brother was just a kid, four years younger than me...

Any kind of attention, really, was a novelty, and nothing I was used to at thirteen. (I was really just thirteen when I did this. Someday maybe I can forgive myself.)

These geeky guys began to pay me attention. It felt ... familiar. Trading verbal barbs and sarcastic jabs, was second nature. It was how we talked at home.
It did eventually get to be mean, moved from notes in lockers to them learning my combination and leaving things for me. Once a pile of brown apple cores. Once, actually, a dead bird. *shudder* (If I knew then what I know now...I would have done some things differently.)

Once, I returned to my locker, and my books were neatly piled as though on a bookshelf, upright. Which I knew full well was not how I had left them... With a sinking feeling of dread, I noticed wet white glue, and sawdust, all over the bottom of my locker. I guess I was lucky to have found it all before the glue dried and set, in retrospect.
(In retrospect, I now feel a blazing and righteous anger at Robert, the boy who I knew even then was the ringleader.)

At this distance, I've no idea what the chronology of events was, where in the school year these different things fell. I distinctly remember, however, that it was a hot day on the afternoon I missed the school bus home and realized I had to walk four miles home with a heavy backpack and crappy shoes.

I had had a rotten day to begin with and missing the bus felt like the cherry on top of a shit sundae.
This was in the early 80's, before anyone thought to carry a water bottle around with them regularly, and it didn't take long walking in those crappy shoes under the Sacramento late spring/early summer sunlight before I was hot, sweaty, thirsty, and even MORE cranky than I had started out.

I was turtling HARD. Head down, armor up, not noticing the world around me, stewing in my own misery, when someone goes by on a bike.
... and turns around, and heads back towards me, panting.

Pulling somewhat out of my turtle shell, I glance up.
It's Erik. Little blond dude on a bike. He's sweating. I wish *I* had a bike. I'd be home already instead of only halfway home.

He says, "Here!" and holds out a water bottle. There's beads of condensation on the sides, it's obviously nice and cold, it's everything I wish I could have but I have learned that NOBODY does nice things for me, period, unless they're going to snatch it away and yell "PSYCHE!" afterwards.

Something COLD and MEAN shifts in my chest.

I question his motives to his face. I say mean things about the water bottle even, that it's probably dirty. Wide-eyed, he stammers something about he just bought it at the gas station when he saw me walking home and thought I looked hot and thirsty. (He wasn't wrong.) The MEAN in me doesn't let up, and I think I say something about he probably already drank from it and he probably has herpes and as it leaves my mouth just as MEAN as I can make it, the MEAN in me shifts, twists and oozes away, leaving a horror in my soul. Did I actually SAY that?

His face slams shut. His eyes get dark, his jaw juts out, he jams the bottle (delicious cool bottle, that I wanted so much, I want now to say "yes, please", I want to erase the last ten minutes SO BADLY) back in his backpack, wheels his bike around and rides off.
.
.
.
Erik never spoke to me again.
There are things for which there is no apology possible.

And that is the lowest I have ever sunk. That is the person I have striven to make amends for, *shakes head* with basically my entire life.
One single moment of intentional, focused cruelty in a time of my own soul's pain.

I was in the gutter for so long. It took me many years to be able to know that there even WERE stars, much less figure out how to see them.

I'm sorry, Erik. I wish I could have seen your kindness for what it was, instead of what I expected.

This has been my entry for

therealljidol, Last Chance Idol, week 3. The prompt is "We are all in the gutter."

You can read my colleagues in Last Chance Idol, and vote for me (and some of the other wonderful writers there), HERE.

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IF that's the worst thing you've ever done, I think maybe you're not allowing yourself to be human.

I'm not saying it was nice, 'cause it wasn't. But to say it wasn't understandable after the day you had and reaching the breaking point would be pretty inaccurate.

Yes, be sorry you lashed out, but show yourself a little compassion, too.

I think, in the course of my development as a human being, that it was relatively good for me to have this wake-up call about my very human capacity for cruelty I think that my horror of (because I FELT IT STRIKE HOME IN HIM) how I had essentially used him, (like, I'm guessing, Robert was using me)... Well.

It may not be the worst thing I've ever done, but it was one of those "I am forming my own ethical code" moments, like Maureen in To Sail Beyond The Sunset. and it gave me something to be Better Than, for the rest of my life.

You're right about the compassion. I ... Made this make sense to myself, in the course of writing. There was context to my action, which I hadn't quite considered. And if I met a child NOW who had the history I had back then, I would certainly show her more compassion than I am used to showing my younger self.

i'm sorry this happened :( *hugs*

I'm sorry that this stuff hasn't yet healed, despite rather a LOT of work and therapy. Mostly I subscribe to the "never too late to have a happy childhood" school of thought, and I have been very happy, for many years.

...but yeah. Thank you.

I envy you not the guilt, but that this is what torments you. Would that the demons that hounded me had that much less to hold over my head...

I probably have other things, but mostly in my life I have harmed myself or my sister. She and I have made amends; still working on the amends with myself.

=/

Thank you for having the courage to say this. I know it couldn't have been easy.

thanks for the hugs.

if someone else told me this story, I might think, "what a small thing to haunt a body for thirty years" but... yeah.

Maybe, but I know that I still have memories from school that if I even think about them I will still feel myself blush in embarrassment from how I acted. Even though I'm certain that I'm the only one that cares about it anymore. This is one of those things that made you who you are now, and for you it wasn't a small thing at all. That's what made it hard to write.

Thanks. I think you're right, actually. Formative moments like crucibles or like a hammer to break into the chitinous armor... Not sure of my metaphor actually... But sounds like you probably get what I mean anyway.

I think we all reach a point where we snap, and take out our aggression and frustration on someone else. As the saying goes, it's human. Sometimes it's the "small" things that continue to haunt us, though, and maybe in the end, they teach us to do better in the future.

Taking aggressions and anger out on others, is how I grew up.

This was the one moment where I was awful to someone who Wasn't Family and was the moment I learned remorse.

what everyone's said already...
even though this wasn't pretty, it was human. the good thing about it? that you realized what you were doing and that you actually *weren't* enjoying it then, but realized it was wrong.
I can see though how something like this can haunt you for a long, long time. Because it hit home so deeply and the feeling stayed so strong. maybe it needs an act of forgiving yourself instead of thinking how to make amends. because it IS in the past and you can't change the past. but you can always be the better person now. doesn't change the situation, but yes, you *are* allowed to move on and forgive yourself.

my thoughts... :)

writing here, and thinking as I respond to the comments you kind folk have been making, it's feeling a lot like my post was the initial knife wound that opens an encysted injury or a boil, and every comment and conversation that follows, holds the incision open a little longer and lets the poison drain out a bit more.

it's scary to open myself like this, because you never know if someone might react poorly (I didn't link to this post on FB, unlike several of my others for LJ Idol) but actually, being fearless isn't not-feeling fear, it's feeling the fear and doing what you need to do anyway.

Thank you for your sympathy and understanding.

sometimes that's what it needs:
let it out (first of all) and hear other's response (other than your own).
and honest? I've been bullied (verbally) at school, for a long time, on and off, by both other kids and also a teacher. so I think if I can reply the way I've done to you, maybe that helps you too to see that you *can* forgive yourself.

have I forgiven the ones who bullied me (and those weren't one offs, those were ongoing situations)? yeah, I don't care about them anymore and most situations I don't remember too (emotionally) deeply. The only one I'd still like to hit over the head is that ex teacher. Because he should have known better, and I wasn't the only victim. He always picked on someone, in every class.

Teachers doing that is fucking obscene. Teachers like that deserve horsewhipped.

I totally and completely agree!

I was standoffish and isolated most of the time as a middle school kid, because that's what I thought was "cool" to do...I saw the other kids doing the same, so figured I'd be as good as them if I acted like them. Of course, it didn't work that way. But as a rule, teens do stupid and mean things sometimes. Heck, ADULTS do that too. What counts is that you obviously learned from your experience and won't be making the same mistake again.

Junior high is rough, and high school isn't much better.

Turtling, for me, wound up being a useful defensive mechanism. But even turtles bite when provoked, I guess.

Edited 2014-10-14 22:31 (UTC)

I agree with what's been already said - I think we all reach a point where we snap, and take out our aggression and frustration on someone else. I can see how something like this can haunt you for a long, long time. I do hope you manage to forgive yourself. x

The forgiveness is an ongoing thing.
I haven't hurt as bad as I did then, in decades, almost.
My rage monster is much quieter now, my reactions are much calmer, more considered, more deliberate.
I have learned the lesson I needed to learn, that lashing out at others in my pain, is not okay. That intentional cruelty is nothing I can stomach, nor do I tolerate it anywhere around me. I speak up and stop it wherever I notice it.

If I cannot forgive myself, at least I continue working to atone. It's a worthy goal.

Hard to read, but well done.

Strangely enough, You, particularly saying that? Validates that this was a Real Thing.

I frequently minimize my experience in childhood because "someone else had it worse." But yeah, it did suck, and it did mark me.

Thanks for reading and commenting.

What would you say to a scared, mistreated, bullied kid who related this story to you? Whatever you would say to her, say it to yourself.

Easier said than done, of course. We hold oursleves to standards much higher than we hold other mere mortals.

It is hard to learn to be kind to oneself. Especially when you never really saw it modeled, ever.

Could you track the guy down, say on FB, and actually apologize?

Tbh, I did try, at the 5 year reunion. He avoided me, wouldn't be in the same space as me. *sigh* Another lesson: nobody is obligated to even hear your apologies, much less accept them. And mostly, the people you need to apologize to YOU, won't. (Hi, Dad.)

It's not the worst sin I could carry. And my rottenness in this moment has definitely warned me off anything like it for the last 30 years. It's my karmic burden.

That is so sad that you were so miserable that you reacted that way out of fear and distrust, and such a long history of abuse that you couldn't imagine an act without it. I hope you've stopped beating yourself up for it, though. Your circumstances may not make your choices in this situation acceptable, but it does make them understandable, and I do hope you see that now for what it is. All things considered, if this is the worst thing you've ever done, I'd say you're a better human being than most of us.

I don't think this is really, REALLY the worst thing I have EVER done. But at the time it was the worst thing I could remember doing to someone outside my nuclear family, the first time I felt SICK about my own verbal cruelty, not justified in lashing back in my own self-defense.

In abusive families it seems that "punching down" is the most common ... you take it out on someone who's at your level or below, because they have to take it or it's an even match. Punching up isn't safe and can get you annihilated, even if that's who made you mad.

Now that I've been studying activism and social justice and the privilege gradient in the USA (I'm nearer the top than a lot of people) I've also learned that the benefit of privilege is the ABILITY to Punch Up in places where it's deserved, like speaking up to racist cops, protesting, writing editorials, talking to the press... You need enough cojones, enough ganas to be able and willing to stand up for someone else... I only punch UP now.

also, my ten year old self wants to give you a hug for your warm sympathy. Being me during my childhood pretty much sucked.

That's sweet. I can be compassionate because I know how this can feel. I had a tragic childhood, as well, in a different way, and I was also a bit awkward, though also in a different way. I have 5 brothers and a sister, and had to learn to develop a pretty thick skin at an early age. At one point in my life, I was in and out of abusive homes. Even put myself in a few of them as an adult, before I learned how to avoid that pratfall. Now, I run a social circle for Geeks, Nerds, Dweebs, Dorks, and Other Assorted Social Misfits that has more than 800 members, just so that I can hopefully provide a space for those who need it in which no one ever has to feel out of place.

I love that idea! I don't yet have that kind of social influence to gather that size of community, but it's part of my Bucket List to do or join something like that.

I mean, aside from Burning Man, I suppose.

Everyone does things they wish, in hindsight, they hadn't.
It took a lot of guts to post this, it's been eating at you for a long time.
If you can't find Erik, after all these years, to apologise, can you try to forgive yourself?
Sometimes, forgiving ourselves is the hardest thing to do.

owning up to what I did, _here_, feels like the closest I'm ever gonna get to going to Confession, y'know? and I've been DOING the penance, basically ever since: battling brainweasels, learning what healthy friendships and romantic relationships and FAMILY is, going to therapy and ACoA meetings, writing and developing ritual structures to process my own wounding, making a commitment to help social justice causes as often as I can.

Thank you, for the "guts" comment. LJ, and

therealljidol, still feels like "safe space" for unburdening and for airing out dirty laundry, and I feel blessed in that regard. Not everybody has that.

This was really well written, and hard to read-- for all the same reasons as it was hard to live through.

I'm sure even now you'd like to smack all the bullies you've ever met, almost as much as you wish you could undo what happened with Erik. I'm so sorry you went through this. :(

Thank you.
And... Yes, yes I do.
Sometimes think about it, looking them up now and sending some kind of nastygram, then I realize that I don't need to lend any more energy to what was. And I refocus, and try to do something productive instead.

You did a great job telling what was obviously a deeply personal story, including how Erik reacted to your comment. Very well done.

Oh, and I love your "personal cartography" tag. :)

Dan

*smile*
Thanks.

I really enjoyed reading this. It always feels like a privelege to be allowed to see someone's vulnerability through writing. Thanks for allowing us that. I think it's these very human moments that allow us all to relate to one another, too. My home was a bit weird growing up, great in many ways, weirdly dysfunctional in others... Anyway, I remember lashing out at classmates a couple times similar to this. I made them both cry. One was in second grade and one was in 8th grade. One terrible time was when I told my younger brother I wanted to sit next to our uncle at dinner, and my brother forgot and sat next to him instead. I made him feel so bad and when he very sincerely apologized to me, I said, "I will NEVER forgive you." It must sound dumb or silly to others, but it was just part of a larger story of me regularly being way too short with him, and just MEAN to him a lot of the time. He never deserved that and I honestly have no idea why I was so horrible to him sometimes. That one moment lingers in my mind as a powerful lesson in others' sensitivity, the power of words and tone of voice, and how easy it really can be to hurt people, and how awful that is!

Your story speaks to your frame of mind and how sad it is that you couldn't trust a kindness because of all the terrible things you'd already been shown from others. It's important to reflect on these things and forgive ourselves. It's interesting seeing the pieces that shape us, the small moments in time that can be so poignant, you know? Well done. :)

thank you for your feedback and your comment.
<3

I think your reaction was very human. The whole situation is very sad, but I wouldn't blame you for a second given the background you have. I can relate so much to your story, I've gone through similar things. The fact that this still haunts you only shows what a big heart you have and what a compassionate person you are. *big hugs*

Ohhhh. Thank you for saying so.

Writing this piece and her to kind comments on it has been remarkably therapeutic.
And after many years, it feels like I have left my last remaining shameful secret out in the sun to bake,shrivel, and blow away as dust.

This is a good thing.

I'm sorry you were so horrifically abused. That's awful.

From where I sit, you've nothing to apologize for or feel guilt for. The walking shitstains who tortured you like this do. And so do the teachers who turned a willfully blind eye to all of that.

Bullied myself my entire childhood at home and at school. And possessing zero tolerance for bullying when I see it happen.

I'm sorry you put blame on yourself for being human and pushed beyond the breaking point.

God, I used to judge myself SO HARD for every perceived imperfection, every moment of m life (all of them) that didn't match some idealistic view of how Life Was Supposed To Be In The Suburbs.

It was really hard to have no allies at home and no friends at school till I was ... Thirteen? Fourteen? And then when you're raised semi-feral it takes a good long while to figure out how to trust and who's worthy.

You just don't KNOW these things when you are young.

I used to substitute teach here on the Peninsula and I would find myself simultaneously glad for and deathly envious of the teenagers in those schools. Healthy, glossy, safe.
That's what growing up with a family SHOULD look like. And you should NOT need a first crappy marriage and some years of therapy to figure out and heal from your childhood, dammit.

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The lowest I had ever sunk... (shameful confessions)

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*hugs*

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hugs

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