It Could Have Been Me

 I will start simply by saying this is my personal story, and I am not trying to speak about any specific shooting incidents. I have thought about writing this many times over the last couple of years (every time there is another school shooting in particular).

Things were very different in the 1970's when I was in grade school, or the 80's when I was in junior and senior high school. I have joked many times that I am thankful that social media didn't exist then, because it surely would have documented some of my dangerous, illegal, and stupid activities as a youth. It is not funny, however, to think about how much social media impacts our children's mental health today. Growing up was hard enough before computers. I cannot imagine the pressures the internet brings, but I can tell you my story.

My parents divorced when I was 7 years old. I don't remember much from when my dad lived with us, but have a few unpleasant memories of his harshness and abuse. I have tried to understand how I could have been such a "daddy's little girl" to someone like my father. Maybe I wanted to win him over, assuming things would be better if I just loved him more. Whatever the reason, despite the dysfunctional relationship, I was devastated when he left. My siblings were 17 and 19 at this time, and one was in college and the other in the Navy, so I felt alone. My mother and I were on our own for most of my young life. 

I was always super shy and quiet. The kind of shyness that makes you hide behind a parent and causes you to stare at the ground when a stranger acknowledges you. I was pretty independent at a young age. I walked by myself to and from school with a key on a piece of yarn around my neck (literally a latchkey kid). I am not sure if it was nature, nurture or a combination of both, but I felt responsible for other people, especially my mother. I still have a natural bent towards trying to help others, and feeling bad when I can't fix things, but I also remember lots of incidents of my mother telling me that she would die if I left her. Sometimes she would say I was the only thing keeping her from killing herself, and I bore that burden, as well as my own, for many years, 

In first grade, I saw the school social worker to help me talk about the troubles at home, the divorce, and the lack of my father's involvement in my life. A doctor put me on phenobarbital (a strong barbiturate) for a "nervous stomach" that year. Looking back, I would definitely diagnose myself with depression and anxiety. I was the smallest person in my class for several years, and remained one of the smallest through middle school. Being small and shy, you might imagine how it could be a recipe for being picked on. I was bullied a lot through grade school, and it got worse in middle school, especially as my peers learned I lived in subsidized apartments. 

It is really hard to explain in a few paragraphs, but I was traumatized by our family situation, and the bullying was relentless. I was broken. Besides the school social worker and the barbiturates, there was really no other help. Counseling wasn't really a thing back then (or at least it wasn't offered to me). My mother did her best, but she was also dealing with depression (or not dealing with it would be more accurate). So from a very young age, I was exposed to a dysfunctional home life, then felt the pain of divorce and subsequent abandonment. Finally, the bullying at school added the final ingredient to the recipe that shaped who I was.

I came home and cried almost every day for years. During high school, the crying was accompanied by a constant request that we move somewhere else and start over. I know now that moving would not have fixed the problem, but it sounded like a great idea as an adolescent. I wanted to die, although I never actually told anyone that. I was also a VERY angry person. I was mad at my dad for leaving and for the kids at school who were vicious. I spent many hours planning how I would run my dad over if I ever saw him again. I daydreamed about hurting him like he hurt me. I wanted to be liked, and pushed myself to exhaustion to be "perfect" so the bullying would stop, and I would have friends. With the anger being pushed down, and the constant striving to do better, and yet always falling short, I was a power keg waiting to blow. By high school, I was ready to fight any one, any time, for any reason.

When I finally got counseling in my early 20's, our counselor said he wasn't surprised I hadn't snapped and killed someone in a fit of rage. He wasn't wrong. I would have done anything to make the pain stop; to end the bullying. If social media and round the clock world news would have been available to give me ideas on how to go about taking care of my problem, I very well might have made it on the 6 o-clock news, and not for good reasons. When I hear of another school shooting, I can't help but think "there but by the grace of God go I." I never really wanted to hurt someone else, as much as I wanted others to feel the pain I felt. I wanted the pain I felt to stop. I can clearly see now that hurting myself or others would not "fix" me, but as a child or adolescent, whose mind isn't fully developed, it seems logical in the midst of the deep psychological pain.

Some of you might think you aren't capable of that kind of evil, or would never hurt someone else. Others would say you have never felt pain like I am trying to describe, and so you can't believe you do something that drastic. When I hear people speak of the shooters as "a monster" or "pure evil", I can't help but think defining them as different from ourselves makes us feel better somehow. I can imagine the pain and mental anguish that leads a person to consider doing anything to make it stop. Each case is unique, and I am not speaking of a certain person here, but not everyone who commits a mass shooting is a psychopath. In fact, when I say that it could have been me, I believe we all are capable of hurting other people. I know I was. 

We are all capable of doing things we would call "evil". No one likes to admit it, and many of us might find it impossible to believe. 

Have you ever wished someone would "get what's coming to them?" 

When a reckless driver weaves in and out of traffic, coming dangerously close to your car, do you think he ought to wrap that car around a light pole? 

Have you been glad when someone you dislike goes through something terrible? Would you smile as you say "karma's a bitch"? 

I think if we would be completely honest with ourselves, we would admit that we have all had thoughts like these. Occasionally the groundwork has been laid in such a way, that a person actually follows through with some of those thoughts. 

The Bible is clear that the hearts of men are "deceitful above all things, and desperately sick" (Jeremiah 17:9). Without the grace of God, and the transforming power of the Holy Spirit, I shudder to think about who I would be today. I hope we can all pause, and instead of passing judgement on others, begin to pray for those who are hurting. Reach out to people in our neighborhood and community. Maybe we can all be a little slower to pass judgment and a little more intentional about looking for ways we might help.

May we be faithful in getting to know those around us, loving them, letting them know we are here for them. I wish someone would have been there for me in my youth. I am so thankful that Jesus Christ has changed my heart, saving me from who I could have been, and opened my eyes to the truth. 

Until Next Time~

Shari

P.S.

This may be the first time I have done this, but I wanted to add a couple of things now that I have had a couple of days to think more about this.

1. Not having a gun did not stop me from thinking of ways to use my vehicle, a knife, thinking of ways I could make it look like an accident, etc. Any one with this much hate and pain won't be stopped by lack of a weapon, but also...

2. My personality (I am ISTJ and an enneagram 1w9) is such that law and order make the world make sense to me. That combined with my family life/training made me highly sensitive to "right and wrong". I was eager to do the right thing, be perfect, make people like me, that if I ever would have followed through on my evil thoughts, I think the counselor may have been closer to the truth when he told me that in a fit of blind rage, he thought I would hurt someone. He went on to say that it would likely have been an "innocent bystander who took my parking spot" and not the people whom I actually hated and wanted to hurt. 

3. Many children have difficult/abusive family situations like I did. It most definitely impacts a child, but personality types and teaching they receive all make a difference in the result. A good home life isn't always a recipe for a well-adjusted child, like a bad home life doesn't always result in a bad outcome. it is messy and complicated. Over the years, there were teachers, karate instructors, and police officers in my life that stepped in and really made a difference. Go, be that person to someone else!

I just thought I would clarify some of the how/why of what never ended up happening in my life. I am SO incredibly thankful that I sought help before any of those things happened, or my life would look much different now!