Bullying And Abuse In My Day; Part 1

Bullying & Abuse In My Day

     Jim Harnage

             My Testimony of Bullying & Encouragement To You

The Survivors

You and I probably have lots in common. Your past may be like mine. Sometimes fragmented. Often complex. Like me many crucial moments from the past define who and what you and I are today.

You and me. We don’t wish to come across as whining exclusive victims so we quickly acknowledge that we’ve been blessed with a wonderful life.  We’ve forgiven those who bullied and abused us. But we speak about it as an expression of our freedom from it. We also speak about our abuses in hopes to help someone who walks in our shoes. Citations have been written on our hearts that evidence many happy, productive, and prosperous moments. By these expressions we negate those opinions that we are a perpetual victim.

I give credit for my being an over comer first to God Who is my Enabler. And then I am careful to inform others that I am truly blessed. So there. I’ve covered my tracks in case anyone chooses to charge that I am whining. Who are you? Who am I? We’re the ones who have survived bullying and physical, mental, and sexual abuse. Why am I writing this? I feel that others exist, like you, who hunger to overcome mistakes and instability made through a life of lack of role model, inconsistency, waverliness, uncertainty, and fear.  What came first? Was it the instability that created the dysfunction or the dysfunction that created the instability?

This dysfunctional life is yours and mine. It is your birth child. It is an illegitimate conception of someone’s forced union of their will upon you. I call it rape of the mind. I’m sure that you can think of many forces that ripped away your identity and left you with an empty, hollow shell in which only remain the echoes of promises you made to yourself of peace and happiness.

Together, you and I are going to accept whatever unwanted product has resulted from someone’s forced will upon us. We’re going to accept and love this unwanted birth child of our inner being. We’ll salt it and wrap it in the swaddling rags of our resolve. This dysfunction is our birth child. It’s you. It’s me. We will love ourselves as we are. We will cherish who and what we are. And we will develop ourselves to conform to the person and image of God.

Begin Change With The Foundation

I think a good place to begin changes is with the foundation. There are two examples of foundations that I can use.

First, there is the foundation that is important to the building and supporting a strong structure. This type foundation is important to homes, security, a haven from evil and elements, and a roof to provide safety and peace.

The second foundation is more personal. This is the foundation I will use. My wife loves to begin her walk through our mall at the south end. Because Belk’s Department Stores begin there. That’s also the end where one must walk through to observe the white-clad makeover professionals. To breath in the soft, seductive, alluring perfumes. And become lost in the kiosks of jeweled treasures. It is also the entrance to islands of beautiful clothing, accessories, and of course, mountains of glamorous footwear, the ascent of which every normal woman challenges.

 I admit that I am amazed at the work the specially trained makeup professionals can do with the flesh. A little of this applied here and a shot of that applied there and wrinkles fade into a new youthful creation. I call it “before” and “after.” I think of an unpainted barn and then I imagine it with a coat of good primer and a couple coats of shining, glossy, red or green paint. But before the woman is allowed a cylindrical peak at herself to admire her new birth a foundation was laid.

 Some women, after only a few hours of sleep, arise to shower at four in the morning and stand for hours before the mirror placing basics, and foundations, and mascara, lip gloss, false eye lashes, and all sorts of things that provide them with a knock-out look all day long. But under all of that good looking is a foundation. Over the foundation of brown, beige, or white paste and powder goes the pretty stuff. But if she leaves off the foundation, the oil cloth if you will, upon which to paint her portrait, then her efforts will be for nought.

Everything from humans to barns must have a good foundation. Sometimes the foundation must be ripped up or knocked down and another foundation built more genuine and stronger.

           

Rip Up Old Foundations

My past was my foundation. The problem was that my past was poisoned thus my foundation was either flight, frail, or false. I thrived on my past. I made decisions, often bad, based on my foundation, my past. Everything that should have rendered a promised and stable future was based on my broken past, my foundation.

Some of those components were visible and others were not so tangible. Religion was one of those bad components. I believe in God. I do not believe in religion. God is good and provides us with a uniform foundation. Religion is not so good a foundation because its components are only as good as the individual, group, or era teaching and enforcing it.

It consisted of all those things that I was taught and learned by observation. As I progressed and began the gradual graduation from victim to victor I dug up my foundation and poured a new foundation. My new foundation consisted of who I was, what I was, what I desired, core values, reasoning skills, wisdom, coping skills, communication skills, as well as practical skills that were forged through God’s definition of who I am not who someone wanted me to be. My new foundation actually consisted of breaking off old toxic friend and family ties that were the root of my poison.

When you enroll in God’s classroom and begin the life scholastic challenge to become who God “is” for you you’ll probably be faced with some major decisions. My changes involved a radical new makeover. A new me. A me that didn’t consist of the poisonous religion, distorted use of Scripture, and cult-like religious control over me that made me fearful, depressed, and afraid to sleep at night only because I said an unacceptable word like “darn.”

But as God began remaking me I had to succumb to the cracking, breaking, and peeling off of the mask and face that was never me. The facial was painful and frightening. But the person in the mirror was that of someone who learned to stand up, voice an opinion, make commitments, and follow through. The facial took years but the end result was an individual who was capable of paying his bills, supporting a family, and sustaining life-long relationships.

The Bullying

In my early years of school and into Junior High School and High School I weighed only about 75 pounds. I was a runt and a misfit. I was poor. I was too light to lift weights and too weak to run fast on the ball field. When choosing sides I was always the last one picked. My favorite past time was reading and my favorite study was political science for which I received a Certificate of Recognition in high school. And girls.

I was picked on by boys older, bigger, and stronger than me. I was called names like “Red,” freckle-face, wimp, runt, and preacher’s kid. I was beat up in class, on the playground, and on the school bus. I would sit under a tree or hide in the school bathroom too ashamed to go to class.

I know what abuse is, emotionally, physically, and sexually. My weakness continued to grow along with my shame. I wanted to quit school and run away. I wanted to leave home so badly that before I was eighteen I had proposed marriage to three different girls.

Bullying and sexual abuse were issues that weren’t even on the front burner of my day. Psychiatrists were quick to institutionalize patients with nervous breakdowns. The religious leaders quickly warned others that depression or behavioral disorders were strong evidence of demonic possession. Kids who suffered from skin conditions such as psoriasis, unwarranted anger, unexplained rage, nightmares, ghost illnesses, headaches, socially distant, overactive, or whose behavior kept them in constant ill-will with the law were reported as a trouble maker or just slow and allowed to drop out of school. Some kids, like me, were reported to have a chemical imbalance as the cause of mood swings and strange behavior and locked up in an institution. Actually I was only reacting to another stimulus. A forbidden stimulus.