Been a trend I've noticed throughout my life: few, if any, stand up to bullies. That's why this system of competition, rugged individualism and the like have continued. Participation in a system just ensures it continues. It's why school bullies are considered "just part of the growing up phase". Yes, it's important to learn how to handle these situations, but when it's considered status quo and ignored, even by teachers and adults who should know different and do different, more needs to be done to not just help the victims, but to stop the behavior in its tracks and authentically openly and fully deal with whatever is behind a person's decision TO bully.
No excuses.
Growing up, I was bullied. A lot. School. Home. Neighborhood. Bus. Family events. Usually it was silent - sometimes it was obvious and obvert - and not once did anyone who saw say or do anything. Until one time - just the one time - in college. Party at my house. Boyfriend at the time was upset over unresolved issues he had with his father. He refused to deal with it and his frustration, pain and anger grew. I finally told him it was time he dealt with it - running away and avoiding was only making him feel worse. He got triggered and next thing I know he has picked me up and thrown me into the door, knocking down the picture on the outside wall.
Stunned, I stood alone in the bathroom for a while. People knew what had happened - people who I had considered friends - and family - and they did nothing but leave. Ouch. However, as I referred to above, one person did do something. My roommate's boyfriend came upstairs, sat me down, comforted me, wiped my tears. He told me how much he loved me - and the boyfriend who had just thrown me into the door. However, as he said, what my boyfriend did was not ok, I never deserved to be treated like that - and he made me promise if he ever laid one finger on me ever again, I would report him to authorities and leave.
I had never had anyone talk to me in that manner. I had never had anyone come to my defense much less speak to me with that level of concern for my safety. I was - in a nutshell - shocked.
What came next was even more painful than the event itself. Walking downstairs and seeing everyone had left - another ouch moment. Friends later told me (via letters in the mail) they didn't want to get involved - it was "none of their business" - to which I thought "but I'm your friend! I am your business!" I would have come to their defense immediately. Heck, I'd done it before. Mess with my friend or someone I care about, you are going to deal with me.
My roommate was far more concerned over the picture of hers that had fallen on the ground and smashed than she was with my safety. My other roommate - said nothing. Family who was there? Same response.
Nothing.
Silence.
And let me tell you - as I said above - the silence is what's truly painful and leaves a deeper wound. To have to ask yourself "who has my back?" and not be able to really answer is the most painful experience imaginable. It is such a lonely feeling. It's one thing to go through something traumatic or painful - but to have no one there for you? Or to see those you thought did have your back, thought really did care, turned out they really didn't.
O U C H.
Silence is not always golden or some nice space in which to reside after a chaotic day.
Sometimes silence is just downright painful.
Victoria