This boy.

I am so filled with emotion. I just have to get this down. It's one of those moments that will stick with me forever. 

Last night, I was walking into my bathroom to brush my teeth. I noticed Timothy was laying on my bed, so I decided to sit on the bed with him instead because I've been trying to be much more intentional with my time. I can't remember exactly how the conversation started, but he made a comment about how he's the smallest one in his school and kids always like to tell him how short he is. He said it with no real emotion. As he always has. 

Now this isn't new news. I've known for some time that kids in school call him short and like to joke around about it. I've also known for some time that it does bug him, but he never truly admitted that it did. He would say it was ok and no big deal. I knew that couldn't be the truth, but he was so convincing that he truly didn't care, so I would believe him. I wouldn't press the issue. I would think, wow...Timothy is a mature young boy. He knows to just ignore the mean kids and not let it get to him. He is a tough cookie. He's got this. Kids get picked on sometimes in school. I did every now and again. I dealt with it. I made it just fine (Did I though?). It's just how life goes. 

No. Mature for his age or not, he is still just a kid. Whether it happened to me as a child is irrelevant. Don't we always want better for our children? My experience should not diminish or take away from his in any way. I should not take how I was able to deal with a situation and automatically think that is how he should handle it. Children have big emotions that they need help working through. Why does he have to be a tough cookie? Why would I ever think that is a good thing? Why am I, whether I knew it at the time or not, teaching him that his feelings aren't valid and he needs to suck it up and just deal with his big emotions on his own.

Something about last night felt different. I don't know....I've been doing a lot of self reflection and self work the past year. Learning. Growing. Changing. I just had this feeling in my gut I refused to ignore. I could tell that the words he was saying weren't matching up with what he was truly feeling. I could tell that part of him wanted to finally release all the pent up emotion he has been hiding. I could tell that he had finally reached a tipping point, and he so desperately wanted help, but couldn't quite break away from the "I'm a tough kid, none of this bothers me" mask. 

My heart knew. And it just broke for him. And I was so angry with myself because I've known for some time that this issue truly did bother him, but I never really understood the depth. I didn't ever push him to open up more. I never made him stop and confront his true feelings. I never took the time to press him further. I never stopped to consider that while, as an adult, being called short by your peers shouldn't matter because you can't control your genetics, but as a child learning to navigate this world and their emotions....it did matter. This was, indeed, a big deal that should have been addressed so very long ago. 

So last night had to be different. 

It took some work. His mask had become so convincing, he didn't know how to take it off. He kept shrugging his shoulders and telling me that it's been happening for so long, it doesn't bug him anymore. It's not a big deal. He doesn't care what people think about him. 

I asked him to take a breath, take a pause and listen to what I had to say. 

I told him that I could tell it really did bother him that people picked on him for being short. I told him that it's ok for it to bother him, and that if he doesn't like the way he is being treated, he needs to start standing up for himself and setting boundaries. He needs to tell people, "Hey! That's unkind to say and your words actually make me sad. Friends don't say unkind things like that." I told him that his friends might not know that it really does bug him because he always says that it doesn't. And that if he told them, they would understand that it was hurtful and stop. And furthermore, he could enlist his friends as backup to help get others to stop picking on him as well. Because that's what friends do, they stand up for each other. I shared with him a story of how one day two months ago, Molly called me because she was having a rough day at school with some girls picking on her and so I went and picked her up. I told him how I had a conversation with Molly about being bold and standing up for herself because people don't like it when you are bold and stand up for yourself. They want to pick on the quiet ones who will just take it. I told him that I said all that to Molly, but that I still went and picked her up because sometimes it's hard and scary to do the things you know you need to do, and sometimes you just need to get away and take a break and gain some strength and support from someone you love and who loves you.

And then he broke. His eyes welled up with tears and he reached for me as he cried, "I don't go call you because I feel like you wouldn't come get me!" 

I was crushed. I felt like I had failed him. It was all I could do not to break down myself. That sweet boy had been so strong for so many years, but he just couldn't do it anymore. The thought that there were times that he had been so upset in school that he wanted to call me, but didn't, absolutely broke my heart. This was a bigger issue than I ever realized it was. 

I swooped him up into my arms and hugged him so tight. We leaned against the headboard of the bed and I hugged him and stroked his hair. I kissed his forehead. I told him how much I loved him. I told him that he could always call me. That I am always here for him. That he never has to be afraid to share how he is feeling with me. 

The conversation that ensued is one that I will never forget. This boy is wise beyond his years. He is so strong, and brave, and kind, and empathetic. He has thoughts and feelings and can articulate them in such a way that I was left almost speechless. I pride myself on knowing my children. Knowing their thoughts and quirks and mannerisms and what makes them tick. But I did not know this. I did not know the extent to which Timothy felt so deeply. I didn't know. 

But I do now. 

He talked about how much he cared about his best friend Peter. He talked about how in Kindergarten he was so scared and shy and never talked to anyone. He talked about how he only hung out with the teachers. He talked about how he saw others getting picked on and so he thought to himself that he didn't want to be like those mean kids. He talked about how one day Peter came up to him and invited him to play and he knew in that second they were going to be great friends and how he was so so happy to finally have a friend. He talked about how it does hurt his feelings how people always say he's small and makes up nick names and picks on him but he says it's no big deal because it's always been like that and he didn't know what to do to make it stop. He didn't think there was anything to do. He talked about how he tells people it doesn't bother him because he doesn't want to cry in school and be embarrassed because boys are suppose to be tough and the other kids who get picked on and cry then get called cry babies and get picked on more and that it's more ok for girls to cry anyway. He talked about how when he sees others being picked on how he goes and tells the mean kids to stop. He talked about how some of the kids who get picked on are the same kids who pick on him.....yet he still stands up for them when they are getting picked on because he knows how bad it feels. 

HE STILL STANDS UP FOR THEM. 

Oh my heart. This sweet baby boy. So much emotion hidden behind a mask he thought he needed to wear.

And so much misinformation. So many things wrong with the way society shapes our children. I am so frustrated that kids have to deal with such issues at such a young age. The fear of not fitting in, the hate, the social pressures and stigmas that you simply can't shield them from anymore. They feel it! Even in Primary School! The lack of parenting. The lack of teaching tolerance and love and acceptance. The inability of parents to have honest and meaningful conversations about the things that truly matter. The inability for parents to see and understand that the emotions our children feel are real, true, and big emotions. Boys aren't suppose to cry? You have to hide your emotions? You have to pretend you don't feel? You have to cope on your own? You have to deal with all this alone? You have to change who you are and what you feel in order to fit in?

FUCK THAT. 

I did not know that somewhere along the line, society's voice had gotten louder and stronger than mine. 

No. I can't have that. 

I hugged him for a long while, letting him finally say all the things he needed to say. Then we went over how every human has emotions, and every human has a right to express those emotions. That there are no "girl emotions" or "boy emotions" or "right emotions" or "wrong emotions".....there are simply human emotions. That yes it can be embarrassing to cry in school or in front of others, but it is far better to feel and express your emotions than it is to bottle them up and pretend they aren't there. That crying and/or showing emotion doesn't make you weak, it actually proves you are strong because you have to be strong in order to show your true emotions and articulate your feelings because it is such a scary and hard thing for people to do. I explained to him that he is such a brave and strong young man. Not because he doesn't cry when he's getting picked on or because he doesn't show that it bugs him any...…but because he is empathetic. Empathy towards others. Being able to put yourself in someone else's shoes. Being able to understand how someone feels, and why they feel like that. Telling yourself you will be better, you will do better, you never want to be like the mean kids, because you know just how awful it feels to be belittled. Standing up for the ones who do get picked on....even if they, in turn, do the picking. I explained to him that sometimes the mean kids are mean simply because they are sad or hurting. They don't have the ability or strength or safe space to express their emotions in the right way, so it comes out as being mean and hurtful to others. That sometimes when someone feels so yucky, they want others around them to feel yucky too....just so they don't have to feel alone in their yuckiness. That sometimes kids have a tough home life, or tough school life, or feel like they aren't loved, or feel like they aren't good enough, or a million other reasons.....and they are so miserable that they act out. I told him that even though they have hurt him, he can still have compassion and empathy in his heart....even for them....because now he has a better understanding of why they are mean. Not that it makes it right or any better, but only that once you can see why someone is the way they are and does the things they do, you can then not take it as personal, because really, it's not about you, it's about them, and you can then let it roll off your shoulders more easily. 

I think he understood. I think my voice was louder than society's. I pray it was. And I know this conversation didn't "fix" his problem. But he talked. And I listened. And he felt heard. And isn't that half the battle? Just wanting to feel heard? Feel supported? Feel loved? 

And now he knows he has the tools he needs to stand up for himself, when he is ready. I am in his corner. He knows he can share his feelings. He knows it's ok to feel emotions. He knows he doesn't have to play it tough. He knows he can talk to me. I understand. I will listen. I will offer support and ideas and tools to help him navigate these tough situations and emotions. 

I didn't realize how strong Timothy was until last night. How brave. How empathetic. How compassionate.

He is so very special. 

My love for him is immeasurable. 

I am so very proud of him. 

Parents need to start doing better. Society needs to start doing better. The human race needs to start doing better. The health, safety, and happiness of our children depend on it. 

With love,                                                                                                                  Mama Hauck