As a child at primary school I struggled to fit in. For some reason, whether it be fault with me, a character flaw or some other variable beyond my control I was rejected by both my peers and my teachers. I was called all manner of horrible things and emotionally bullied to the point of abuse. From the age of six through ten I was sat at a table on my own, this being the only solution the teachers could find to solving the conflict I regularly found myself in. After a number of years and following many pleas to my parents to fix the problem, my father, in a pique of frustration blurted out that I should just hit them if they said these things. And so the problems really started.
Anger and violence are rarely if ever the answer and so this behaviour only made my situation worse. I was routinely told that it was me that was the problem; that I was a violent delinquent thug; a ‘psycho’, an epithet that emerged once my counselling with a psychologist became public knowledge following a violent outburst on my part that resulted in a fractured jawbone. I was ten years old. This process of being repeatedly told you are a problem person has led to me sometimes internalising negative messages that while not aimed at me, implicate me by virtue of association. I tend to take things quite personally in these instances, I get defensive and angry at the injustice of those accusations and I lash out verbally in robust defence of otherwise fragile ego.
As bad as my experiences were, I do not see myself as a victim. I am a well-adjusted, self-actualised individual who takes ownership of his situation. I did find the adjustment to adult life hard and spent a good deal of time crashing into people, but it has also been ultimately rewarding and fulfilling. I am especially grateful for the people I have contact with, my friends, and the inspiration they bring. When I’m feeling especially angry or aggrieved at whatever political or ideological narrative I have internalised as a personal attack and feel the need to lash out, I often think what those people would do or, more compelling, what they would think of me if they read those things. This bring me back to equilibrium and temperance; the value I place in their friendship and the risk of jeopardising this with public expressions of negative emotion helps me feel more balanced.