It's not a big secret that I am a parent. Part of being a parent is keeping tucked away in the closet of 'horribles' that can happen to your baby is the potential for one of your children to fall victim to a bully. It happens, as much as we will it not to. We see our little ones as perfect little beings who everyone will love as much as we do. We cannot fathom that anyone would want to hurt them. When it happens, it hurts us just as much.

Bullying doesn't end when we grow up, the scars can sometimes remain well into adulthood. They shape who we are. Our power is only to either let it define us negatively, or allow it to help us become stronger people. Like many of us, I was bullied when I was younger. A LOT. It sucked. My experiences shaped who I became. I was lucky that I did not allow it to define me.

Which is why I am sharing a letter I received in my Facebook Messenger. It has taken me a couple of days to really think about it and decide how I feel. Burying the past is one thing; digging up the rotting bones is quite another.
Here is what it said.

 Dear Christy;

I do not know if you remember me. For all I know I may never receive a reply and I will know that I either contacted the wrong person, or that you have just decided that you would rather not dwell on the past.

My name is ******* *******. We attended Cline Elementary School and Magsig Middle School together from 4th until I believe 7th grade. I don't remember you much past 7th grade but if I recall correctly it is because you and your family moved away.

I located you because we have a mutual connection on LinkedIn, and I found you on Facebook. No, I am not some crazy stalker - I will explain more here in a bit.

I remember that you were tall and very skinny. You were sick a lot and I remember our teacher would keep crackers and juice for you to eat during class because your pills made you sick. I do not know what you were suffering from at the time, I just remember you always seemed very pale. I also remember being jealous that you got to eat crackers, pretzels, and juice during class and we did not. We called you bean pole because you were so skinny and tall.

I also remember that you did not live in the greatest part of Centerville. I remember you would walk to school a lot as opposed to riding the bus. You would also walk home whenever you could. You were horrible at math and seemed to hate it, but I remember you could write like no one in our class. You had a great knack for storytelling. You always got the best grades in spelling and wrote the longest complete sentences ever. All the rest of us could never compete. You could never compete with us it seemed. We laughed at you for that.

Aside from the everyday taunting kids do to each other, I can recall that I was actually very mean to you a few times. You didn't have the right clothes, you never had the cool supplies, you were one of the losers. I was a loser, and here is why.

I have been haunted by something I did ever since my daughter started school. Bear with me.

One day in homeroom in middle school - maybe 7th grade? I cannot recall. I really tore into you. I was making fun of the fact your Tretorns were not 'real'. Your jeans weren't the fashion statement that season. You ignored me and ignored me. I said your hair was ugly and that poor people shouldn't live around us. You started crying. You cried until the bell rang. You walked home.

The next day you acted like it didn't bother you so we tore into you again. You cried.

I think you moved away soon after that.

I just want to say I apologize. I know it does not mean much now, but I do apologize. I was an ass. There is no justification for it, no excuse to be made. My being a kid does not matter. My parents raised me better than that.

I cannot fathom what your life was like although I am sure it was not rosy and was quite difficult and we sure did make it worse. But I want to say this:

You were the nicest person I can recall. You would be nice to anyone. You actually let me cheat off your spelling test a few times. You sat next to the new kids so they would have a friend. You never had a bad word to say about anyone. You gave your lunch once to someone (yes I remember that) when you looked like you needed it more. You laughed with everything you had in you. You never even called me an ass.

I am not trying to make you feel bad, rather I am trying to right the wrongs I have committed in hopes that it may alleviate the bullying my daughter has been enduring. She walked home today because she did not want to be bullied on the bus any longer. She walked 4 miles. She said some kids were making fun of her because she didn't have an iPhone.

An iPhone! You didn't have Tretorns.

Your face came to my eyes, except this time the tears were my childs.

From what I can see you turned out very well, have a beautiful family, beautiful children, and a husband whom I am sure adores you and would kick my ass if he knew what we had done to you. You take what life throws at you and turn it into something awesome. You deserved a lot better than what we gave you and although I can only ask for your forgiveness, I surely do not deserve it.

My daughter sat in amazement as I told her your story. I admitted I was the wrongdoer. She said she hopes you know that I didn't mean it.

I didn't. It was uncalled for.

I am sorry.

I hope life continues to treat you well, and please do not feel obligated to return my message. It is just something that never really hit home until today.

May life continue to shower you with blessings, and may this note find you and your family happy, healthy, and well.

With age comes wisdom, and I regret mine came so late.

Sincerely,

*******.

Forgiven. That is all.