Category: Life Lessons

A Letter to My Son's Bully

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Bully by Thomas Ricker

The public conversation about bullying has opened up to include friendship benches at schools and campaigns for inclusiveness. As the Indian child of immigrants who grew up in the southern parts of America, I heartily support both.

Bullies are going to happen, whether on the playground or the workplace; they are a ritual of childhood as much as the joy of a driving license.

When confronted by three four year olds, hands over their ears, laughing when your child enters the room, your mettle will be tested.

When I realized where their glances were going, I let the boys know if that ours was too loud at any point, they could ask him to stop. I asked them to please put their hands down. One out of the three did. The other two carried on.

In that instant, two ideas crystallized:

1. I cannot protect my son from negative events in his life.

2. Not everyone is going to like my child.

I diverted his (and my) attention away from the ones who still had their hands over their ears.

“Who’s excited to see M today?” I asked the class at large, gulping past a lump in my throat that no one would reply. Thankfully two other children raised their hands.

“What’s your name?” I asked a dewy eyed girl who bounced in her chair.

I redirected my guy towards her.

Yet the brief incident stayed with me on my thirty minute drive to the office. I called my husband; we discussed our concerns and also the opportunities.

As an adult I am someone who is comfortable in her skin – even if this means other people are put off by my frankness.

I didn’t have an ideal childhood but that worked in my favor as I grew older: disappointment, hardship, and tragedy did not pull me under as it did some of my other more sheltered friends.

While my heart still twinges when I think back to that moment, I am thankful for this incident. How we react to adversity shapes our character from a very young age. Even as early as 4.

As much as I want to protect them, I want to give our sons resilience even more. What other people think about you is a reflection of them, not you.

I thank those three four years for helping me formulate my parenting strategy toward adversity.

What are your thoughts? Have you had to deal with bullying?

1 Smart Strategy to Stop Rehashing

Angry Talk (Comic Style)
Angry Talk (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

On my way to the car, I was stopped the look on my friend’s face. We were drenched in sweat after sixty minutes of non-stop movement, led by her enthusiastic Zumba alter ego. A few minutes after class, however, her face reflected a heavy heart.

As we chatted, I was reminded of my journey through the irritating hurdles of daily life abroad: Streets clogged with traffic, nonsensical rules for businesses, exorbitant taxes to fly the national airline.

My way around these pesky, debilitating-to-happiness moments, was discovered the hard way. I had to stop dwelling on them.

Sounds logical, but the simplest solutions are the most complicated to implement.

Try this with me the next time you’re telling that flesh peeling angry story (or in howler monkey mode as my tirades have been nicknamed).

Be 100% indignant. As right as right you can be. For 3 minutes. Okay, 10 if you really need it. And then, as made immortal to the chagrin of parents (maybe people) everywhere: let it go.

I’m convinced that half (or more) of our misery comes from rehashing and rehearsing our anger, disappointment, betrayal, or fear. When we talk about the negative moment, the tentacles of residue reach into our minds to take us emotionally back to the moment of distress.

Our body reacts as if it were happening again. We are insulted, offended, wronged: our foreheads crinkle, our lips frown. Whatever resolve we may have had evaporates.

Next time you, or a friend, are being hijacked by the blues, halt the rehearsal train. Switch tracks to a new task or a happy memory.

If ever you see me talking to myself in the car, it’s because that’s my mentally most vulnerable moment when I’m stuck in traffic and my defenses are down.

Bored because BBC World Service isn’t working, my brain ranges for something to chew over. My thoughts bend towards negative memories because they are stronger than positive ones. To halt the downward spiral, I say out loud, sometimes at full volume: STOP.

Here’s to stopping the negativity so the sun can come in.

What strategies do you use to regain focus? Here’s to happiness.

 

 

 

 

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3 Ways to Make Sure Your Birthday is not Ruined

I was raised as a Hindu child in Christian America. We did not celebrate Christmas or Easter, nor the more food oriented Thanksgiving or 4th of July.  Far from India, and away from the Indian centric metropolises of Orlando or Pittsburgh, even the Hindu festivals did not receive communal pomp and circumstance. The Hare Krishna farm was about as close as we could get to worship.

Yes, you can understand why a birthday was a big deal. Coming as it does in September, in the early part of the school year, I was never sure who to invite. Usually the people who came over for pizza or went out for a movie were not the girls I was talking to in January.

As an adult, and now mother, I love celebrations. We have added Christmas, Easter, New Year’s, Thanksgiving and the 4th of July to our family’s repertoire, with international travel on Eid holidays to boot.

Birthdays, however, haven’t yet been replaced in my heart. Until last week. Every few years I have a party. Same childhood dilemma but newer version: who in the expat community is still around to invite? Who will I still talk to in January?

Last weekend we had a party. No one likes the night before work (which in the GCC falls on a Saturday). Friday night. Three days before the actual day. There was dinner. Dancing. People jumping in the pool. On the whole, many 30somethings (and older) recapturing the essence of college, or trying to, as the essence of youth was floating in the air, a residue of the new semester beginning at the universities where many of us worked.

Then came Tuesday.

Midweek in the GCC (we start the week on Sunday). Everyone in the house up early, a big lifestyle shift, to accompany new schedules. No boxed gift on my pillow like in years past. Completely fine: I asked for donations to charity instead of luxury brands.

Hubs left the house in a rush, wanting to avoid traffic, without a happy birthday. And so it went. None of my students remembered until my 70 year old aunt interrupted class with a buzzing phone. She wanted to say happy birthday. Good old auntie. Somehow that call made me feel worse.

I slunk back to my office. Facebook was pinging away: Happy birthday! Hope you’re having a great one! Each virtual ping pushed me further down in my chair. You’re alone, they all seemed to say, alone, and worth only a few virtual seconds. Even worse (never say it can’t get any worse, it always can) I was getting emails from people on LinkedIn. People I had never met because LinkedIn knew it was my birthday and thought they should too. Lower and lower I sunk, opening the door now and then to answer a few student queries with wads of Kleenex on my desk.

I went to pick up the cake, chosen by our older son, a toddler, a la edible Paw Patrol characters (look it up, it’s what you think it is). The baker forgot to say happy birthday.

Sobbing in my car on the way home, safe behind my sunglasses, a realization hit me. I am not as important to anyone as I am to myself.

This may sound counterproductive but it was a breakthrough. Somewhere on the lone highway in Doha, between birthday wall post 90 and 100 on my Facebook wall, my ego caved in. I’m only important to myself. Expectations are the road to disappointment. These ideas are the essence of Zen Buddhism. They are freeing, humbling, and awakening. I’m still mulling it all over.

Suffice to say, this will be the last party for a long time. Never say never. If you don’t want your birthday ruined, here’s my advice.

1) Don’t have an early party.

2) Don’t go on Facebook.

3) Learn to sit with the quiet in yourself.