hatred

I realized today that I have an issue that has to be dealt with.  I have a deep black hatred in my heart for those people in my childhood who tormented me.  I have never really thought about it in that way  before, and I never really realized what a powerful thing it was.

In childhood, I was fat and sensitive and…well, different.  I suspect that I showed some signs of autism.  I remember always looking down, having an extremely active imagination, and being interested in what I was interested in and not much else.  To say that I didn't fit in at school is an understatement.  From around 4th grade on, I isolated myself more and more.  At first I didn't understand what was going on, but by junior high it was clear in my mind that I was unloved and unlovable.  That lie stayed with me growing up, and I have to say that it is still with me today.

Bullies saw this early on and enjoyed tormenting me.  Because I was introverted, fat, and an easy target, I remember loving school but hating the people in it.  Some teachers were helpful; others ignored the problem and in doing so made it worse.  I also belonged to Girl Scouts.  One day I remember was playing a game where someone would turn around in a circle, point at you, and you had to be the animal she called out.  After being called on to be an elephant 4 times in a row, I left the game to read.  I enjoyed scouts because of the challenge to earn merit badges.  I cared nothing at all for the camaraderie that it was famous for, since that just equalled more torture for me.  Slumber parties turned into fresh ways for the girls to hurt me.

I grew up and left both the town and the people.  I never thought I would ever want to see them again, but I have renewed acquaintances with some--I've written about that before.  What I wanted to make clear here is the impact that my early life had on my later life.

I am not interested in being a friend.  I am not interested in finding a husband.  I am not interested in joining clubs, being part of a social group at school or work, or anything that would lead to close social contact.  I will speak to people online and I do have some friends, but I try them over and over before really identifying myself with them.  Obviously, I'm not talking about sharing my life.  Sharing my life is easy.  It's sharing my heart that's difficult.  I can talk about all this on paper or in front of a crowd because I feel that it's important for others to realize that they're not alone in their hurt.  But I feel, at times, horribly alone.  I feel that nobody could ever really like me, and those that say that they do want something from me.  I know it's not true, but I have to get past those feelings to invite you into my heart.

The stunning thing about this new understanding to me is that hatred doesn't have to come out of anger.  With me, it comes out of hurt and fear.  So many days I walked to school fearing that someone would see me and  find another way to hurt me.  When I was in junior high, I felt that I was so ugly, so hideous, that I would try to find ways to avoid going to restaurants with my family.  I didn't want to inflict myself on the public view any more than was necessary.  What on earth would make a 12-13 year old girl feel that way?  Day after day after day of being informed how fat and ugly and awful she was.  I believed it--it seemed that so many people said it that it must be true.

Why am I giving you all this info?  There's a video that I saw that spoke strongly to me.  It was the first time that I realized that there is still deep-rooted hatred in my heart for these people who have so negatively impacted my life.  I want to give you a chance to see it and realize what I went through (and probably what you went through, too). Here's the link:

http://www.upworthy.com/bullies-called-him-pork-chop-he-took-that-pain-with-him-and-then-cooked-it-into?g=2

I am also writing this to remind you that I am still a wounded person, as so many of us are.  I hear many of you say that I'm successful, that I'm good at what I do, that I am a real help, and I truly hope that some day I'll believe it.  Right now, though, I will just keep acting as if I do, and maybe one day the action will turn into the truth.  I know that it's more true of me now than it used to be.  And for those of you thinking about starting on this journey with me, it has become more true the more I write and the more people respond and share their own pain.  Knowing that I was not alone in my journey, both in childhood and today, has been tremendously healing.  Thanks to all of you who have shared your lives with me as well.