Change happens throughout our lives, whether we will or not. It matters not if we resist the changes, or if we lean into them. Not every change is welcome or particularly comfortable, and some of the most needed changes are those that tear you apart, make you question everything. You may never find all the pieces.
Often, one change is a catalyst for another, and another, and another, whether the first was a circumstance chosen by you or for you.
I use the phrase “for you” deliberately instead of “to you” because our mental attitude toward unasked for changes frames, if not directs, our response.
It is easy to experience an event, positive or difficult, and exclaim or proclaim that the event happened to you. It is outside your control, your purview. There is, in a way, nothing to be learned from circumstances that happen to you, they are to be endured, or potentially enjoyed, depending on what exactly it is. You are not responsible, just a victim of circumstance. Oftentimes we ascribe challenges as happening to us, whereas something we view in a positive way happens for us. What if we flipped the script? What if we honestly saw the challenges not as stumbling blocks strewn in the path to trip us, but as opportunities to learn about ourselves and the world?
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This attitude was one gifted to my mom shortly after Sheila’s birth, and while it is not easy to remember, for not to was one of the tools we were encouraged to use while facing the challenges of growing up. One I struggled with was “Why are my classmates being mean to me?” This script was difficult to flip, because a simple substitute sets up a martyr/sacrificial mindset which can be taken to the point of permanently being the victim in order to give others the chance to thrive. Not entirely the most healthy lesson, especially for a young girl in a culture that regularly encourages girls to step aside so that others (i.e., brothers, of which I had none) may thrive! Flipping the script in this case means looking at the bigger picture – who else was a victim of circumstance, reacting to unknown stressors, living out or reflecting their parent’s conflicts without the maturity or understanding to recognize the difference between their parents and themselves.
A bit complicated for a pre-teen when I first faced these questions!
When I first started school, I was friends with the girls in my class who would become the popular crowd, but over time I broke away from them. I do not remember the exact situations, but I remember gossipy whispers, interests that no longer aligned, and feeling out of place, or maybe time. I had some lonely years. Why did that happen to me? Or why did it happen for me?
The middle school years are an interesting time for kids. On the cusp between kids and teen, the word “youth” feels too young, but 20 years later in both the corporate church world and the folk music world you come to find out that the definition of “youth” is “anyone under 40 or 50.” (Here we are giving Hobbits a run for their money! Hobbits are not considered adult until they pass 30 years.)
It is hard to see the lesson or the gift of a situation while we are in crisis, and when the crisis lasts for years, recovery is going to be slow as well. A lasting impact of those schooltime experiences, though, has been one of recognition. A colloquial expression is, “it’s not paranoia if they really are talking about you,” but another truth is fewer people are talking about you than you think. It is easy to think others in our lives talk about our actions, our motivations, because we will think and talk about these things. But pause for a moment and reflect: you may think and talk about yourself, but how often do you analyze others in your life, unless that person is directly impacting you at this moment? For example, the driver who cuts you off, or the person who cleans the public restroom who wants to finish wiping down the seat before you use it: I bet you had a different reaction to each of these people. While you may fume longer about the bad driver, eventually you move on and stop thinking about them. Unless, of course, you begin to recognize their car as always cutting you off, but that is another matter.
Back to the experience of being bullied and wondering about the gift or lesson of the experience, though, a lasting impact on my life is the sour pit in my stomach when I find myself facing various bullying behaviors, even as an adult. Unfortunately, even adults bully each other. I wish it could be something we stopped, grew out of, left behind in childhood as a dysfunctional behavior pattern.
But it persists everywhere, and sadly the church is not exempt from this pattern. In many ways the way we interact with each other within churches and their surrounding counsels nourishes or rewards bullying behaviors and they grow unchecked in a pool of destructive politeness. No one wants to rock the boat, as that could disturb the bullies into worse behavior, or they may leave, taking their money with them. We do not expose it, we do not root it out, we just walk away when we can no longer take it.
Sometimes walking away is the best thing we can do for ourselves. I have certainly taken that approach. Self-preservation, self-protection, get out while I am still whole enough to find or repair all the broken pieces.
I mentioned that the experience of being bullied by classmates as a pre- and young teen gave me the give of recognition, and that is true. When I am experiencing bullying, I am able to name it, label it, or accept the label that a loved one attaches to the situation when they can see I am on the receiving end of nastiness. As soon as I am able to label the behavior for what it is, I have an easier time owning my challenges I bring to the situation, but also, I have some mental separation. I am not a victim in the sense of taking responsibility for changing the others in the situation. I am responsible for my pro-actions and reactions. I have the choice of staying in the situation to push through to the other side, or I can bail. I can make a change.
Why did this situation or that happen to me? Impossible to say. Why may it have happened for me? What have I been able to learn about myself, my loved ones, and the world through this experience? This knowing is the greatest gift.
When were you recently bullied? I am sending you my love and hugs.