I see a lot of people posting a give thanks post and I am assuming it is an LDS thing since it is all Mormon’s posting them. Here’s a different perspective:
I am glad that people are grateful for the community they grew up in. What I would like to share is a different view of an idyllic town built on Christian roots. When I started Kindergarten, I was the one of two non-mormons in my K-9 school.
As someone whose parents and grandparents did not practice the predominant religion, my siblings and I were on the outside of every circle, for much of our time there, with a few beautiful exceptions.
Kids were rarely allowed to come to our house because our parents smoked and we didn’t go to church. Our birthday parties were tiny, if attended at all. Cruel comments were made on the bus almost daily to at least one of us.
In grade two, I got made fun of in front of the bulk of our grade 2/3 split at recess because I accidentally said Oh My God. One person stood up for me. She was the daughter of someone my dad and uncle had been friends with. The majority of both grades never spoke to me for weeks and openly talked about my mistake and left me out.
In grade 4, (though this was certainly not the first time, for some reason it has never left me), I had been invited to a few things. One of the girls and I had been spending time together and she had invited me to her birthday party. This brought on hate notes delivered to my desk from a couple others, when no one was looking. “I hate you, I wish you would die, stay away from ..., you are ugly” - that’s the gist. There were also some veiled threats - not of violence - just further ostracizing.
In a younger grade (can’t remember how old, just the scene). One of the older boys coined the nickname Cow Paddy when we were out on the monkey bars. And it stuck and was used to torment me to tears regularly throughout elementary and early junior high.
I will say after grade 5, things got a bit better as another non-Mormon moved to town and into our class and a wonderful Mormon family relocated to Mtn. View and she and her family were wonderful to me. And we had an amazing “home-teacher” that came to our house each month and he and his family were very kind to my whole family. After I left, my parents got a new pair of home-teachers and they are terrific people who to this day, keep in touch with my mom, despite her having moved. My dad’s cousin also did her best to help us fit in. She would drive to our place and take us to church. She and her family were always caring and inclusive.
In grade 10, my new best friend was called by a Mormon girl in our class who didn’t want her hanging out with me anymore (yes, this is high school). My BFF told her that if they didn’t want to hang out with me, then she wasn’t going to hang out with them. I was at her house and overheard the whole thing. I had never felt like I was truly valued until that moment in time. To this day, she probably doesn’t know what that meant to me.
My life has been defined by how I was treated as a child. My lack of self-worth, self-confidence, anxiety, depression. I know the names of every person in these stories. They probably don’t even remember picking on me. There are good people everywhere and I will never discount those that were there for me throughout my life when I was so lonely and felt worthless. They probably saved my life. Hopefully, they know who they are.
So, when I see all of the #givethanks posts, I try to think of the good people, the kind people, but I find myself sucked right back in to those feelings of helplessness, loneliness and feeling never good enough. I hope by sharing my story that maybe someone will prevent someone else’s cruelty breaking another child’s heart, over and over to the point where they almost break the child themselves.
I am grateful for open-minded people who raise open-minded children. I am grateful for small acts of kindness, because sometimes you never know what that might mean to someone. I am grateful for the people who will stand beside the outcasts and make them feel less alone. I am grateful for my love of horses, because the only place I felt safe was with my horse, which led me to 4-H and a place where I finally felt a sense of belonging. That black mane absorbed many a tear as I poured my heart out. I am grateful that I was born resilient and that I am able to live a life that defies all of the times I was made to feel like a piece of disposable garbage due to bullying and meanness.
Comments
Post a Comment