I was bullied. Yes, as a child, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m referring to last week. I was bullied just last week! It took me off guard and hurt my feelings right when I thought I had the sticks-and-stones-may-break-my-bones-but-names-will never-hurt-me theory under control.
So why am I writing about it? Definitely not to dwell, stew, or perpetuate drama. I hold no grudges, other than applying Maya Angelou’s philosophy: “When people show you who they are, believe them the first time.” I am writing about it because I was surprised by its sting, which made me empathetic to other adults, and flashed me back to childhood for a momentary connection to the cruelty so many children face on a daily basis. In essence, it reminded me of how crushing bullying is.