In my current reading, I have run across some information about bullying. Some psychiatrists maintain that even one experience in childhood of public humiliation can have the same impact on a young person as a whole history of being bullied. This struck me as a bit grandiose, until I began mining my own childhood with a view to discovering if there was any clue as to the origins of my tendency to feel guilty in any situation where something negative happens. It's like, "It must be my fault." I have been repeatedly puzzled by this internal reaction, which has occurred over and over in my adult life.
As I "remembered back" into my childhood, I landed upon one experience I had when I was 11, perhaps 12 years old. It happened at the Pirates skating rink in my home town. It was the one time in my childhood when I tried playing on a hockey team. Remember, this is 1944 or so - a long time ago.
It was on an outdoor rink, the only kind we had in those days. I was on a team, but none of us had any equipment; not pads, nor Jerseys, nor helmets (helmets? In 1944?). We had skates and sticks. And a puck. I had been sent out on the ice to play right wing, although I shot left handed. The play was underway, when our coach, standing atop the snow piled outside the boards, began screaming at me to get off the ice. I didn't understand, sia\ the screaming got louder and more angry. I had no idea what I had done, or why he was sounding so angry, but finally I scuttled to the boards and climbed off the ice. It seemed like everyone standing along the boards was watching me. I felt totally GUILTY; but I had no idea why, or what I had done or not done. What I did was rush into the clubhouse, an old boxcar with a Quebec heater at one end, peel off my skates and race home. I never went back to the team, although I skated at the Pirates most week nights. The coach didn't look for me to explain, and I never played a single moment of hockey again in my life. To this day, when there is a problem happening in my vicinity, that same feeling washes over me: humiliation, and "What did I do? It must be my fault."
I can find no other childhood experience in my long-term memory bank - the one 'bank' that seems intact - that contains such a memory. I stand in awe that such a small and trivial experience has had such an impact on my internal life. I can only imagine what it must be like a child who is humiliated again and again. Psychological bullying, I suppose one might call it, if it became a regular experience. Wow! What an impact that would have.
I don't consider myself to have been bullied often. Now and then for sure, by 'big kids' in the neighborhood. It was then that I wished for an older sibling to stand up for me. It was then that I experienced being alone in that special way that only children have of being in the world. I never spoke of these periodic experiences at home. This is actually the very first time I have ever expressed them in any way during my whole life. I can feel that exquisite discomfort - pain? - even now as I write. I wonder how many others might have this kind of memory…
As I "remembered back" into my childhood, I landed upon one experience I had when I was 11, perhaps 12 years old. It happened at the Pirates skating rink in my home town. It was the one time in my childhood when I tried playing on a hockey team. Remember, this is 1944 or so - a long time ago.
It was on an outdoor rink, the only kind we had in those days. I was on a team, but none of us had any equipment; not pads, nor Jerseys, nor helmets (helmets? In 1944?). We had skates and sticks. And a puck. I had been sent out on the ice to play right wing, although I shot left handed. The play was underway, when our coach, standing atop the snow piled outside the boards, began screaming at me to get off the ice. I didn't understand, sia\ the screaming got louder and more angry. I had no idea what I had done, or why he was sounding so angry, but finally I scuttled to the boards and climbed off the ice. It seemed like everyone standing along the boards was watching me. I felt totally GUILTY; but I had no idea why, or what I had done or not done. What I did was rush into the clubhouse, an old boxcar with a Quebec heater at one end, peel off my skates and race home. I never went back to the team, although I skated at the Pirates most week nights. The coach didn't look for me to explain, and I never played a single moment of hockey again in my life. To this day, when there is a problem happening in my vicinity, that same feeling washes over me: humiliation, and "What did I do? It must be my fault."
I can find no other childhood experience in my long-term memory bank - the one 'bank' that seems intact - that contains such a memory. I stand in awe that such a small and trivial experience has had such an impact on my internal life. I can only imagine what it must be like a child who is humiliated again and again. Psychological bullying, I suppose one might call it, if it became a regular experience. Wow! What an impact that would have.
I don't consider myself to have been bullied often. Now and then for sure, by 'big kids' in the neighborhood. It was then that I wished for an older sibling to stand up for me. It was then that I experienced being alone in that special way that only children have of being in the world. I never spoke of these periodic experiences at home. This is actually the very first time I have ever expressed them in any way during my whole life. I can feel that exquisite discomfort - pain? - even now as I write. I wonder how many others might have this kind of memory…
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