Back-To-School Blues
Even in my 50s, the back-to-school blues assault me.
Every year around mid-August, when the crisp fall weather teases its first morning, anxiety sets in, stressed-tinged dreams ensue, and my chest feels tight and closed.
This has happened every year for as long as I can remember.
When I was school-aged, it was because I was actually going back to hell.
As an adult, it’s PTSD from the years I was in hell. My school years. All of them.
If you read my memoir, you know I was a shy child—not properly socialized, moved a lot—an easy target for bullies.
I must have had a honing beacon for the maladapted mean kids because they found me, taunted me, emotionally tortured me, and sometimes physically assaulted me.
When I was in Grade 8 or 9, three female students a few years older, targeted me.
I can’t blame them, I was by all accounts, a loser. (Not that insecure kids should be picked on, but they are prime prey for bullies.)
I only ever had one friend per year. But I felt lucky for each and every one of them. In Grade 10, I moved to a different school and although I was initially bullied there, eventually I discovered liquid extroversion (alcohol) and that helped a little.
I found out after high school that my former high school bully was (is) a lesbian. Despite being a loser, I was kind of pretty, so I told myself she didn’t like me because she couldn’t have me.
That could be true, or it might just be she was angry about the unfairness of the world at that time or had a shitty home life or several other things, and I was an easy target.
Eventually, sometime after, and perhaps with the assistance of booze, we became friends.
A different perspective…
One of my dearest friends feels the opposite at this time of year. She loved going back to school, saying, “I couldn’t wait!”
Her parents were together, loved (and liked) each other, and were supportive and encouraging. That makes a difference from the get-go.
She was gently pushed to try things. As a result, she excelled in all areas, including academics, sports, and being socially adept.
She was the popular girl, not just in her grade but to those in upper grades. If you remember high school, you know how significant that is.
However, trauma touches us all.
Her first major life-changing trauma, aside from losing a grandparent in high school and a beloved pet in her second year of University—totally valid—didn’t occur until her mid-20s, but by then she had already established a sense of security in the world.
That’s not to say it wasn’t challenging during the years of her trauma (medical). Still, she had the emotional foundation, two loving parents, and a ton of real friends, to be able to navigate it better than someone who didn’t have such a solid support system.
She realizes how her level head and emotional stability have been a wonderful and valued example to me of what’s possible and I’m eternally grateful for our friendship. And even though I feel I’ve grown emotionally and can navigate life’s murky waters exponentially better than I used to, there’s still a residue from a less-than-idyllic childhood and young adulthood that haunts me. I’m working on it.
I don’t have a lot more to say on this topic. Just that we all have secret tragedies we deal with, whether we realize it or not, and I’m sure many of you can relate to the back-to-school blues.
Who knows what those bullies dealt with that caused them to be the way they were. It helps me to live more compassionately to believe they were born differently, or raised awfully. And that they, too, had struggles and trauma.
We’re all doing the best we can with what we know from where we’re at.
And that’s OK.
Big hug, lots of love.
What have we relearned? Love is the answer.
Homework: Love more, heal more.
