I just read a blog
about a lady getting her first pair of reading glasses. She led us through her thought process of why
the glasses bothered her so much. As a
little girl, she had to wear eye glasses and an eye patch, even while in
school. Now, my personal thoughts are, ‘what
sadistic individual insisted on the eye patch during school?’ but then again, I
know less about the particulars than the author did. I do know however, she was truly blessed not
to have had that time period define her elementary years. Yes, this blog had brought back memories.
Instead of the bushy, curly, unruly
hair that resembled Merida in Brave, I had flat thin blond hair that tangled
into knots if you weren’t looking at it.
When it was looked at, it got ten times worse. I was also one of those twig kids (how I miss
those days) and tall for my age. In
addition to height related co-ordination issues, hand eye co-ordination was
minimal and under constant therapy because I was pegged legally blind in one
eye. I was cross eyed until I was ten
when my parent paid out of pocket for the surgery to straighten my eyes. They had to pay out of pocket because
insurance doesn’t pay for surgery purely for aesthetic purposes. I don’t think my eye doctor believed me, but
the world was clearer after the surgery.
I think there was something about the alignment of my eyes allowing what
little vision I had in my left eye be productive that helped.
The
thing is, in addition to all the physical attributes that gave the kids
ammunition against me, I’m ADHD. I didn’t
stand a chance. This was also in a
different day than we have today. My
brother and I both wore targets on our souls because neither one of us has an
aggressive bone in our bodies. It takes
a long while to stoke up a ligament to pretend to be aggressive, and that just
didn’t work in grade school.
We both
learned our own way of dealing with bullies, and of course we did always have
the fall back of physical self-defense if ever needed. Neither one of us was ever small, so when we
were pushed into a proverbial corner and our shoulders came back and chests
puffed out, most people would back away.
Neither one of us was ever in a fight, and I’m sure part of it was that
nobody wanted to find out what would happen if they actually pushed us over
that line. You know, the sleeping lion
thing.
Bullying
was not the topic of the blog, but that was what I got out of it, probably
because keeping my self-esteem out of the gutter is a daily chore. It’s funny, I have self-confidence, and in my
brain I have self-worth, but deep down in my soul, my self-esteem is
worthless. Yes, I battle that feeling of
worthlessness every day. One little
mistake can sink me into a hole a mile deep for a week. I fear reprisal. There are some people I have become virtually
immune to, either that or I’ve just built that big of a defensive wall between
us that they can’t get to me, but most others can crush me with a glance. Even the dogs know how to use their eyes for
that reprisal. Smart little …
We think
it’s all over with when we become adults, and to a certain extent, it is. I’ve learned to project the illusion of my
self-confidence. Like I said, my head
believes in me, but my soul doesn’t.
With this projection, I’ve managed to fool many people. It didn’t occur to me how much until I had
read that blog. Georgia never doubted me
when I answered “Yes” to the inevitable question of “Mom, did anybody ever pick
on you when you were in (fill in the blank here) grade?” Barbara Ann though, just doesn’t buy it. Every time she asks, I get this look of
complete disbelief from her.
There is
no way I would give her even a glimpse into the hell that I called
childhood. Kids shouldn’t see that. When she started saying “I hate school!” in
first grade, that’s when I knew I had waited too long to start treatment for
her ADHD. I didn’t hear those words from
her; I was transformed to my own childhood when I bravely walked into the lion’s
den every day to be tormented again. That
was not going to happen to my baby girl, especially after I had experienced the
transformation that comes from having ADHD treated and under control. No way!
Yes, BA
still gets picked on. Kids know what
buttons to push, some things will never change.
She’s a lover not a fighter.
So, I
look back on life after reading that blog.
I had to learn to overcome and adapt due to my limited vision. I did things that I had been told would never
be possible. There are some things I
will never be able to see since I do not have binocular vision and binocular
depth perception, not that I really care about whether or not I can see a light
layer of dust. I do care however, about
my self-esteem, and what has become of it, or I guess really despite of
it.
The old
rhyme “sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me” has
been found to be ridiculously invalid, but, like any injury, we can overcome the
wounds of childhood bullies. It’s not
easy, and there’s no doubt life would be so much easier for many if there wasn’t
a need of addressing bullies, but the wounds can be used much like the healing
of broken bones makes bones stronger, to make us stronger. At least, it really does sound good to say it
that way.
