Searching My Soul

It has been 20 years since I was in high school and I had not thought about it till the day that changed my life. A mysterious drone arrived at my door. I thought oh a gift for the holidays. Sadly it was not. What it concealed were pictures of boys whom I had bullied in high school. I was forced to deal with the massive guilt of my conscience. Sure, every now and then I lost my temper with people. I had left my girlfriend because she was too clingy, even said a lot of hurtful things. I never donated to charity and would rather throw food I didn’t want then donate it to a food bank.

However, those pictures made me look inside my tainted soul. How could I ever be forgiven? What desperate measures could I take to save myself? I was forced to even remember that one time I threw a boy’s homework in a messy urinal. He had probably been forced to drop that class because that assignment was worth 50 percent of the grade. Some boys I had sent home bruised and bloodied. Others I had helped myself to their lunch money. I felt the boys had moved on how I had. Or at least how I had up until this day.

A few days later still tormented by these thoughts and my guilt, I joined a church program that invested time helping people. I would go to people’s homes and do odd jobs like removing snow. I delivered food hampers to people and started actively donating to food banks and anti-bullying campaigns. However I still felt hurt inside. Was I doing this out of guilt or the goodness of my heart? I decided to do the ultimate sacrifice for myself. I hated school and worked at a warehouse living paycheck to paycheck as I partied and gambled. I enlisted in school.

The schoolwork was overwhelming. But even though I disliked the work I continued to work hard on it. I graduated with a diploma as a teacher’s assistant two years later. It took some time to get a job but when I did I worked with children with autism who were in the normal school classes. While I could feel myself losing patience with some I never let up the fact that helping the future children could bury my past. I met a young boy named Chris. He had Aspergers and would act out every now and then when he felt overwhelmed. I bought him a few toys to help him fidget with when he needed it.

Ultimately I became Chris’ peer support. By helping him I was helping myself too. Chris was a boy who craved attention. I would make house visits and play sports and video games with him. When it was a good time I would help him with his homework and made a schedule for him. He had been barely passing school in spite of obvious intelligence. I helped him understand his schoolwork better. His grades improved but I noticed something off about his demeanor. One day I talked to him about what was bothering him. He said he had no friends and people in the school yard bullied him.

I would now accompany him in my break time to observe him during break. After a while I started playing with him. Some kids came to me and asked if I would play games with them. I did as long as they included Chris. It was a couple of weeks later that I saw Chris being bullied. My instinct was to fight these kids. Rather I contacted the school. The kids were suspended and I went to their houses and told my story. I figured if I could change so could they.