Towering over me, his body pressed up against mine, Raymond pretends to get a book off the top shelf. He stays too long. Leaning in. Rubbing up. I can feel his breath on my head, hardness on my back. The rest of the class is milling about the library I feel trapped, sick to my stomach and invisible.

I dart away under his arm, he just laughs it off. I walk around in a daze as my girlfriend Sharon rushes up “Michele don’t let him DO THAT to you!” Something happened. She saw it. Hot flash of shame floods me, this is wrong. I am wrong.

On the bus Sharon fills me in on “the wrongness” of it. After school I head to Paula’s house, her mom is kind and generous. Sitting at her kitchen table it’s safe. Paula and I talk, she listens. I love going over there.

Today I tell my secret. How he’s tormenting me. Waiting until the teacher’s busy writing on the black board Raymond turns around with laughing eyes and voice a whisper threatening

“You watch out girl, I’m gonna take you out in the woods and mess with you at lunch today. “ Worried, on guard I stay away from the woods and close to the wall by the steps in a group of friends.

Bullied by this man-boy, holding in way too long my story spills out as Paula’s mom listens. When I’m done it’s getting dark, I ride my bike home for dinner. Lighter.

Mom’s waiting by the basement door as the screen door slams behind me; her anger hits me before she even speaks. Voice tight

“Paula’s Mom just called. YOU never tell me anything!”

For not telling her.
Letting this happen.
No hugs.

Never a “you’re going to be okay.” Nothing.

In a house where abuse is denied this story has no where to go. Where “what will people think” carries more weight than feeling and telling the truth. I am violated again.

Being 12 years old sucks.

My Snow Queen Mother buried her feelings in a haze of cigarettes, scotch and ‘nerve’ pills.
I disappear into fudgesicles and cookie dough.

A good girl I followed Mom’s “don’t talk, don’t tell policy” until my own daughter is born. I had to heal. I had to tell. Love myself. Love my daughter. Growing up all my Mom wanted to do was be a good wife and mother. I was her first baby, she got better with the rest. Still even today I wonder how we got so lost to each other and…

How much of my mother’s frozen emotional DNA seeps into the relationship with my dear daughter? I trust I did better. Mother’s Day isn’t always warm, loving, fuzzy memories. Sometimes hallmark card moments are hard to find for a Snow Queen’s child.

Like a layer on a pearl, you can’t specifically identify the irritant, the moment of the irritant, but at the end of the day, you know you have a pearl.- Ken Burns


The Gift of Bullying– The rest of the story with Raymond.

Rev. Michele Grace Lessirard, an intuitive life coach, helps you break through resistance, stop spinning in doubt so you can come back into balance, make more money and have a greater impact in the community you serve.

A certified Money Breakthrough Method® coach, spiritual healer and counselor Michele Grace helps you move your dream from “woo-woo to “who’s who®” in 90 days with heart-centered business building tools.