As my self-image had been battered by a busload of bullies during puberty, I'd perceived myself unworthy of positive male attention for many years. In fact, the more I liked a guy, the more my psyche cowered behind shadows of self-doubt. My shyness would have surprised my friends, because a cheerful smile masked my insecurities, and I dated a lot. However, dates didn’t transition into boy friends, because I couldn't distinguish between excitement catalyzed by mutual attraction and anxiety caused by fear of rejection— so ...
Each time a guy pulled me close, that hodgepodge of emotion coursed through my body as fast as my mind flooded with static. Since my dates and I had no clue that insecurity attacked me from within, every guy who took me out tried to cozy up with a self protective, uncharacteristically quiet, teen-aged girl who'd, perhaps, verged upon being—boring. One guy, who in high school had continued to come back for more, finally pushed me away, sputtering: Annie, something's wrong—kissing you is like kissing a wall!
Though my spirit was capable of soaring as high as the sublime, it could plummet as fast as a duck, struck by buckshot, falls from the sky, each time subconscious insecurity grabbed control over my mind. In short I was unaware of how often I'd unconsciously clipped my wings—waiting for rejection to shoot me down. Needless to say, no one rejected me as quickly as I'd rejected myself.
As I've clearly admitted to quitting on my goal (of studying Hebrew) in the story, BULLY FOR ME, you might ask: Annie, what did you hope your readers would learn from that story, describing your experiences on that bus?
First off, I’d say: I chose to relate those painful encounters to illustrate the way in which our brains deny us access to certain vulnerable (insecure) character traits, acquired during childhood.
Secondly I'd say: A child's thought processor is only half baked. Therefore, I'd not yet acquired the inner strength to stop a bully in his tracks by staunchly defending my dignity and self respect.
Thirdly I'd say: Kids need to be coached (and gently coaxed) at home to muster the courage to stand up in case of attack. (ABC NO BULLIES FOR ME!)
Fourthly—you watched me learn something new while writing BULLY FOR ME: You witnessed the fact that I'd no clue that that early trauma had yet to heal.
Fifth in line: You watched me identify and peel away layers of self protection that were still clipping away at my wings.
As to insight number six: I chose to bare my shame in order to distinguish the difference that exists between self-confidence and self-esteem:
Whereas self-confidence is as slippery to hold onto as a hare, hopping here and there before disappearing into a hole ... the layered strengths of self-esteem develop at a turtle’s pace, year in and year out.
Though a slice of my self-image had taken a serious hit, most of my self-esteem had survived the fires of humiliation—meaning that over the next several decades, many of my half baked strengths continued to mature. So while my self-confidence with guys crashed, BIG TIME, my budding leadership skills did not burn.
As for insight number seven: As each insight popped out of my mind, BULLY FOR ME colored in a state of inner conflict, which had gone undetected until now. So each time I explain something to you, I understand some aspect of myself more clearly than ever before. And thus does my depth perception deepen, too. For example, now, more than ever before, I understand why:
Each time a guy pulled me close, that hodgepodge of emotion coursed through my body as fast as my mind flooded with static. Since my dates and I had no clue that insecurity attacked me from within, every guy who took me out tried to cozy up with a self protective, uncharacteristically quiet, teen-aged girl who'd, perhaps, verged upon being—boring. One guy, who in high school had continued to come back for more, finally pushed me away, sputtering: Annie, something's wrong—kissing you is like kissing a wall!
The human spirit is like a metronome, signaling the inner cadence of a person's well-being.
Though my spirit was capable of soaring as high as the sublime, it could plummet as fast as a duck, struck by buckshot, falls from the sky, each time subconscious insecurity grabbed control over my mind. In short I was unaware of how often I'd unconsciously clipped my wings—waiting for rejection to shoot me down. Needless to say, no one rejected me as quickly as I'd rejected myself.
As I've clearly admitted to quitting on my goal (of studying Hebrew) in the story, BULLY FOR ME, you might ask: Annie, what did you hope your readers would learn from that story, describing your experiences on that bus?
First off, I’d say: I chose to relate those painful encounters to illustrate the way in which our brains deny us access to certain vulnerable (insecure) character traits, acquired during childhood.
Secondly I'd say: A child's thought processor is only half baked. Therefore, I'd not yet acquired the inner strength to stop a bully in his tracks by staunchly defending my dignity and self respect.
Thirdly I'd say: Kids need to be coached (and gently coaxed) at home to muster the courage to stand up in case of attack. (ABC NO BULLIES FOR ME!)
Fourthly—you watched me learn something new while writing BULLY FOR ME: You witnessed the fact that I'd no clue that that early trauma had yet to heal.
Fifth in line: You watched me identify and peel away layers of self protection that were still clipping away at my wings.
As to insight number six: I chose to bare my shame in order to distinguish the difference that exists between self-confidence and self-esteem:
Whereas self-confidence is as slippery to hold onto as a hare, hopping here and there before disappearing into a hole ... the layered strengths of self-esteem develop at a turtle’s pace, year in and year out.
Though a slice of my self-image had taken a serious hit, most of my self-esteem had survived the fires of humiliation—meaning that over the next several decades, many of my half baked strengths continued to mature. So while my self-confidence with guys crashed, BIG TIME, my budding leadership skills did not burn.
As for insight number seven: As each insight popped out of my mind, BULLY FOR ME colored in a state of inner conflict, which had gone undetected until now. So each time I explain something to you, I understand some aspect of myself more clearly than ever before. And thus does my depth perception deepen, too. For example, now, more than ever before, I understand why:
I'd continued be an enigma—to myself—no matter how deeply I'd valued my ability to tunnel.
If we back track a bit, I can show you what I mean...
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