This is a question that I have asked my son at least a hundred of times in the past year. I will never know the full answer until I get to Heaven and see the Big Picture. I am sure that God has a much bigger answer than I am capable of knowing now. It doesn’t make it any easier for me today. I am choosing to have faith that God has got this.
“Faith is deliberate confidence in the character of God whose ways you may not understand at the time. ” -Oswald Chambers
In the past 13 months I have cried out in my heart, “Why did you have to go?” The answer has been, ” Mom, I did the best that I could with what I knew at the time.” Now that I have finally come to terms with the reality that I don’t have the answer to everything and that I cannot control everything, his answer has finally sunk in. He did the best that he could with what he knew at the time.
My son struggled with depression, anxiety, and Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome (PTSD). This developed when he was 11 years old. He was a victim of bullying when he was in the fifth grade. At a time when peer relationships mean everything, this was extremely distressing for him. It began at the beginning of his fifth grade year. There were nine boys in his class, including him. Five of these boys began to make derogatory remarks at his expense around week two of the school year. My son shared this with me and I had a talk with the classroom teacher. She was properly horrified and assured me that she would take care of the problem. I didn’t hear anymore about it from him until the spring.
In March of that fifth grade year, he got off of the school bus, dropped his backpack on the kitchen floor, and began to share the shame and isolation that he had experienced from the beginning of the school year. A part of my heart died that day. I was confused as he shared his story and said I thought that the problem had been resolved by the classroom teacher. He said that the bullying had stopped in the classroom in her presence but had continued in the boys room, in the lunchroom, and during gym. I asked him why he hadn’t told the coach what was happening. “Mom, I was ashamed and thought he would just think that I was a big baby. The problem never went away, I just quit telling you about it.” As this big boy sat in my lap and sobbed, it was evident that he thought the adults in his life were no match for these boys. I called the principal the next day and revealed the names of the boys involved. Instead of that solving the problem, the problem actually escalated because he “tattled.”
The decision was made to home school him for sixth grade. This was at a time when there were very few families who home schooled. In fact, I only knew one mom who had experience with it. We lived in a town where only one middle school existed. What choice did I have?
After home schooling for three years, we moved to a new town shortly before he was slated to begin ninth grade. He wanted to go back to school. He and I selected a private Christian school. He was so excited all summer about a new start in a new town. I had spent three years helping him to regain self esteem and surrounding him with people who saw his worth. He was so excited on that first day. Two weeks later he shared that a group of football players, led by the quarterback, had begun to harass him in the restroom and in the hallways.
Before the reader assumes that my son was doing something to provoke this from yet another group of kids, my son was the most sensitive, loving boy. He was the big brother to his two brothers and sister. The gentleness and helpfulness that he showed them was extraordinary. He was very bright and inquisitive. Perhaps that is what attracts bullying. A group, led by a ringleader, picks a kid who they know will not fight back.
I called the guidance counselor and shared with her what my son said had been happening since the first week. She was sympathetic. She said that she would report this to the football coach and let him take action. His action was to suspend the boys from the next two football games.
The first Friday night game found my son alone in his room. He seemed cheerful enough when he left the dinner table. He was fooling around with his computer and watching television in his room all evening. After I tucked the younger children in bed around 9:30 p.m., I stepped into to his room to find him curled up in the bed sobbing. I asked what was wrong and his reply was that he had been on social media that evening. After the football game in which his school lost, his school mates began a cyber bullying attack telling my son that he was the reason that the team had lost. Without the quarterback and his sidekicks, the team was defeated. They blamed my son for the loss. Within three weeks of his ninth grade year, all of the feelings from fifth grade returned. He endured the year with the plan to not return the following year.
He began a new school the following year. It took him a while to get into the swing of things. At the beginning of his junior year, there was a big kid who began to verbally taunt and physically abuse my son. Most of this was happening in the boys room and in the hallway. But this time was different. My son didn’t tell me about it until April of that year. He came home from school that afternoon, sobbing while telling me the whole story. The pinnacle of the abuse had happened that day and it broke him down completely. “Why didn’t you tell me about this when it first began happening?”, I asked. His answer broke my heart. “Because every time that I have told you and you told a teacher or counselor about it, the abuse became worse. Mom, you don’t understand. This kid is scary. I am afraid that he will come to our house and get me.” (A side note to add: this kid was arrested that summer for robbing a convenience store.)
Why does this have to happen to a kid who just wants to go to school and have a couple of friends? The damage to his self esteem created more anxiety and depression. He began seeing a therapist and was put on the first of many antidepressants and anxiety medications that he was on until he passed away at 29 years old.
If I could give a message to the bullies he encountered it would be this. Was your bullying and teasing just to make yourselves appear cool, tough, and funny? Little did you know, that your little acts of cruelty that you doled out in 30 second increments broke a little piece of his heart, a chip at a time. Was it worth it? Do any of you even remember this kid from fifth grade, ninth grade, or eleventh grade? I remember you. My son remembered you. Now that you are all 30 years old, what is your life like? Are you married? Do you have a job that you love? Do you have children? Would you like your little guy to be treated the way that you treated my son? Probably not.
I admire the teachers and guidance counselor for being properly horrified and for taking action. But in hindsight was it enough? Although my son’s cause of death was not suicide, the complications surrounding his mental health struggles most certainly contributed to his adult emotional vitality.
Every time that I read about yet another teen who has resorted to suicide as a result of being bullied, my heart breaks for that child. My heart breaks for the parents and siblings left behind. My heart breaks for the confusion and heartbreak that home experiences.
My heart breaks for the Empty Chair they will be silently acknowledging while they cling to each other over the holiday season. My heart breaks for them because I know that none of them will ever be the same.
“Mom, I did the best that I could with what I knew at the time.”
Invisible scars. The words that you have read come from a broken heart. The words come from a heart full of love for the next child who may have an experience like my son’s. When emotional or physical abuse comes from another child it is called bullying. When emotional or physical abuse comes from an adult it is called a crime.
I am writing this for all of the adults who have the responsibility to ensure that a child or teenager feels safe. This includes parents, teachers, coaches, school administrators, youth ministers, and any other adult who takes on the responsibility of leading groups of children. Let us not brush the subject of bullying under the rug thinking that these small, individual offenses don’t seem all that bad. An accumulation of these seemingly small events coming from a multitude of settings wires a child’s brain and the effects last into adulthood. It can affect every area of a young adult’s life. Too many of our children are crying out for help and we owe it to them to do this better. We need to be paying attention because these children are our future. I know that there is awareness but it is obviously not enough because the problem is getting worse, not better. We can and must do better.
Peace and love to all who share this journey with me.
She writes about life, death, grief, and recovery.
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