My sweet boy.
You’re so very young and even though I so hate to see you hurt the way you do right now, I know that I can’t stop it.
And yet even now I celebrate, because the reason I can’t prevent your pain, is one of the reasons I most rejoice over you.
I know that you are frequently targeted and so easily wounded because your heart is so full and so open.
You leave it bravely unguarded, completely exposed, and you feel so very deeply for people and for this world.
You are already sweet and caring and compassionate in ways that most people never grow to be before they die, and because of that I know how much damage their words do.
I know that the bullies seem so big and so strong right now; that they tower over you, threatening to shut out the light that is around you and put out the light that is within you.
My son, don’t you let them.
I wish I could tell you that this is only temporary, that they will leave soon, but the truth is they won’t.
The bullies will always be there.
They just get older and taller and more angry, and they find new places to call home.
They move from school buses and locker rooms and dark hallways; to boardrooms and comment sections and rows of gray cubicles.
They let all of the decades of regret and disappointment and rage within them build up, until it all comes violently bursting out upon those around them, who still have tiny embers of kindness and gentleness left.
Many don’t ever grow up, they only grow bitter.
In this life you can’t avoid the bullies, my son. The only thing you can do is to see them; not as they seem, but as they are.
And when you do, when you gaze fully into their truth, they will shrink, I promise you.
Once you can clearly see all of their attacks on you, simply as vicious self-hatred turned inside out, you can see how small they really are.
You will realize how desperate they are to feel loved and accepted.
You may begin to understand them.
You might even pity them.
Just don’t believe them.
The horrible words they use to try to wound you don’t describe or define you. They couldn’t, because those words aren’t really about you at all.
I know that’s difficult to remember. It is for me and for my bullies too.
But I need you to remember, so that you don’t change because that is how they win; when you lose your sweetness and surrender your joy—and become them.
The bullies defeat you when you begin to see the world as darkly as they do.
They defeat you when you start to hate yourself, in the same way they so hate themselves.
They defeat you when you see others, and you default to contempt rather than compassion.
My son, I really don’t want to see you hurt but more than that, I don’t to see the bullies harden and close and bury that beautifully beating heart of yours. We need it here.
It is a precious gift to me and to this place, even though it comes with a terribly costly flaw: It bleeds.
So my sweet boy, keep being who God made you to be. It is a sight to behold.
Keep feeling deeply and keep that glorious light inside you blazing.
Don’t stop loving yourself and this life.
You stay open-hearted.
Don’t let the bullies win.
