Walking To The Beat Of My Own Drum

When I was growing up as a child, I had a very rough time. I was considered to be an outcast and was made fun of horribly. I am not denying I was bit of a strange child, more eccentric if anything else. I owe that to my over active imagination. One of the worst times in my life was from the age of eight to thirteen. During this time I had two girls in my class whose mission was to make my life as unpleasant as they could. I wore glasses, had flaming red hair and was the tallest in my class, even towering over the boys. I was always picked last during gym, had no one to sit with at lunch and I was never invited to any birthday parties. There was this one girl, who I guess you could say, was the class bully. Even though other students were also picked on, she always would surround me with the other girls, and sometimes some boys, and call me names or throw rocks or sticks at me. There was also this one girl who was more indifferent towards me. She was the smartest one in our class and always picked on me because of the things that would come out of my mouth or the lesser grades I would receive.

By the time I was twelve, I came home crying almost everyday. As I walked home from school, tears would fall down my cheeks as I wondered what was so bad about me that made everyone dislike me so? I soon became very somber and quiet. I was the type who always smiled and wanted to be friends with everyone. I soon became lost, my identity missing as I tried to conform in a world where I would belong. I no longer walked to the beat of my own drum.

One day, my mother saw me in my room, sobbing hysterically on my bed after another bad day from hell at school. As any mother would do, she tried to show me how special I was. She put me in front of a mirror and asked,

“What do you see?”
I said, “Me.”

She went on to say that she saw a bright, happy and voracious child who has so much to live for. These people who put me down and say horrible things are jealous. I have something they want but can’t have and because of that, they lash out.

I really took those words to heart. We may have faults but honestly, what was so horrible about me as a person that others could not stand? The one bully who used force to hurt was this chubby, short girl who was barely passing her classes. The other one who was so perfect, or so it seemed, never had many friends around and hardly ever smiled. From that day forth I decided that whatever another person may think of me or say towards me doesn’t really matter, all that matters is what I think about myself.

Jealousy. Jealousy is a very scary thing. It can make the strongest become weak and the weakest go past a point that some never return from. In this blogsphere we are all apart of, words mean so much. It can mean praise by a simple statement in a post or it can do the total opposite where one can lash out at someone. Since most of us may never have the chance to meet face to face and know the real person behind the computer, we only have the words we type to express who we are.

This blogsphere I inhabit is full of bright and witty people. Without having my daily dose of reviews, commentary or even a simple picture being posted, I feel empty. People blog for so many reasons, and especially in the literary circles we surround ourselves in, many use their on-line blogs for notice. Some may think of their blog as a way towards monetary value or the possibility of being the first to have that advanced review or author interview we only can wish for. Some may try for the most traffic in a given day, week or month and they live and breathe that success. Some just go with what they know and what brings them joy.

It is such a small world and as you all well know, we see the same names over and over on many different sites and blogs. In one day, myself, along with two other bloggers seemed to be following each other from blog to blog, which was quite a coincidence. But I also have come to the conclusion that some tend to become jealous. Yes, that dirty word yet again that can ruin the most wonderful of associations and friendships. I have even been there myself, envious that one read a book before me, or perhaps has a better relationship with an author or blogger than I do. Rather than post those feelings, I hold back and post words of congratulations and awe for a job well done.

What it all comes down to is respect and understanding that words are such a powerful tool. When words are used to hurt and bring forth pain, we all loose something, not just the one writing them or the one it is meant for. It seems so mean, petty and hurtful. Really, what is the point? It makes others turn away, rejected because a few choice people are trying to ruin something so special that we all want to be a part of.

Of course things die down and life goes on, some other situations arise that will be that talk of the web and we all will continue to comment. Some will keep quite and just watch, waiting for the right moment to become known and begin their own path to making their words come alive, either by starting their own blog or taking that next step which involves a word count, agent, editor and finally a publisher.

The point where I am at is still very unknown, whatever happens and may come my way, I will take on. My words are my own and no one can tell me otherwise. To this day I still very much so, walk to the beat of my own drum.

**A final thought to my story. A few years ago I found out that one of those girl bullies was diagnosed with ovarian cancer and there was a possibility that she may never have children. With no other thought in my mind, I found her address and sent her a card, explaining who I was and wishing her well. Less than five days later, she responded back. She sent me a card and wrote how she was out west working in the art therapy field with children who were abused. She went on to say she remembered who I was and always thought I was the nicest person. She signed her name and under it she wrote two words:

“I’m sorry.”

Both she and I knew what she meant. They were the most powerful set of words that still stick to me to this day. About two years after that, I found out her cancer was in remission, she got married and eventually had a little girl.**

Katiebabs (KB)