Thursday, March 5, 2015

Best Friend Bullies

We attended my son's middle school orientation several weeks ago...middle school. He's nervous about it, and I keep telling him how much fun he will have, and how great it will be. I'm totally lying. Because of course it's going to suck. It's the law, the way of the universe. But I didn't think that would be helpful.

Perhaps somewhere out there, there is someone who loved their middle school experience; Yay! Best time of my life! Woo hoo! But I've never met that person. Personally, I don't remember my middle school experiences. I can recall little bits and pieces, faces, and names, but mostly without content. What I do remember is the emotional response it left on me. Stress, anxiety, inferiority, alienation, loneliness...I was convinced that everyone hated me. How could they not? I was a preteen. Everyone hates preteens. They are awkward, and snotty, smelly, gangly, and pimply. And plus, I had a perm. And hairy arms. I didn't stand a chance. 

I worry about bullying, and the social aspect of my son's next few years. I don't think I was bullied, and I could swear that I was never the type of person who would pick on someone else. Then a few days ago, I came across one of my 7th or 8th grade journals. I read a page at random; I had written (in my round, bubbly middle school handwriting, the i's all dotted with hearts) about how my best friend and I convinced our other best friend that we were both moving together, to another city, another school and we'd be leaving her alone. We made her cry. Just because. Just because. We weren't going anywhere. We were just...being mean. And I realized that is what scares me. There is something about being that age that makes so many of us mean, and unsure, and apathetic. Even (or maybe especially) toward our friends, and the people who mean the most to us. While there is the possibility that my son will deal with the stereotypical bullying issues, there is a guarantee that he will deal with the type that comes from his own friends. Sometimes that's the hardest to deal with.

So, to get a head start on the stress I've decided to go ahead and start worrying about it now.

And to my friend from middle school...I'm sorry I was so horrible. I really, truly am. 

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