Recently I have discovered that it has been a theme in my life. I always fight for justice. Justice in myself and justice for others, I tend to stand up for the injustice of it all. So it was recently that I remembered that I was not always just in my life.
The memory came to me upon reflection. I was in 6th grade and I remembered bullying a young red headed girl in my school. I'm not proud nor am I exactly sure why it happened, but I definitely singled her out for whatever reason. She probably pushed some of my buttons, so I decided to make her a target of my anger.
I called her ugly. Daily.
I preyed on her because I considered her to be weak.
I intimidated her with physical threats like my brother had intimidated me, and I was good at it because he was a pro at terrorizing me.
As I reflected on this memory, I remembered her face. Scared and red from crying, she tried her best to let me know she wasn't going to take it lying down. But I knew she was and I wanted it that way. And I used it against her. It didn't go on for very long, as our parents were called and discussions took place between me and my parents and it was swiftly put to an end. And again, I'm not sure why I had chosen this innocent girl to unleash my special kind of terror.
Maybe I knew I was stronger.
Maybe I decided that she would be my target because I was sick of being his.
Yet I can't get the image of her frightened face out of my mind today.
So I want to say to you, Michelle, I am deeply sorry for any pain I caused you back in 6th grade, on the play grounds of the Sheehan school. I'm sure I was sorry then, but I am certain I am very sorry now. My hope is that you have forgiven me for my adolescent angst against you and that it may bring you some perspective to share with your own children.Maybe even a nugget of wisdom.
Because there must be some justice in that...
