Turn the other cheek

I'm sure that everyone has at least one memory of coming home from school, eyes brimming with tears caused by the kid sitting behind you in math class who leaned up and whispered something about your greasy hair; or the girl with the coolest clothes who you overheard telling her best friend about your hand-me-down, too short jeans; or the really cute boy, you know the one you'd been eying up since 1st grade hoping and praying that for just one day he'd chase you around the playground, referred to you as "the big girl" when picking teams for gym class; or [insert embarrassing tear worthy childhood memory here]. Remember how it felt like the world was actually going to end? How could you possibly ever go back to school? Walk through those halls knowing that they're all thinking that same horrible thing?

Somehow you make it home and your mom takes one look at your bloodshot eyes, coupled with your splotchy cheeks and knows that someone's hurt her baby. She sets you up on the counter and listens as you sob and choke your way through the horror all over again, shedding a tear with you because she remembers how cruel kids can be. And like every great mom, when you're finished she holds you close reminding you how wonderful you are, and how elementary/middle/high school doesn't matter and that someday all of those nasty little shits will grow up and realize that all of the thoughts they had and the things they said were hurtful, spiteful, nasty and completely unnecessary. You get the obligatory "just ignore them" advice, a cup of hot chocolate, your favorite movie, and the secret delight when she tells your brother and sisters "leave your sister alone tonight, she had a rough day at school. And DON'T ask her about it. It's over." And they don't ask, at least not right away, because as much as they're dying to know what happens, they'd rather not suffer the wrath of mom.

5, 10 years down the road, if you're lucky you run into one of those nasty little shits and most of the time, they have in fact, grown up and you can go on leading your lives like normal adults who realize that belittling others to make yourself feel better works in quite the opposite way actually. Maybe you grab a cup of coffee and catch up, or exchange email addresses, or swear to reconnect via facebook, either way you can file that "life ending" childhood memory away, because it was just adolescent immaturity.

What happens when the immaturity is coming from a 30 year old, and it's no longer about your greasy hair but about your character and reputation? When she's no longer just taunting you with insults, but running her mouth all over the social media world, airing untruths about you and your life, because it's easy. It paints her in the light of the victim, and she has, after all, grown up in a world where she's not required to accept responsibility for the results of her actions because how could her parents' dear, precious daughter ever be anything but perfect? How do you hold on to your integrity, how do you find the warmth of your mothers arms and the perfumey scent of the hot chocolate when you have no other defense than to just take it? You could retaliate with equally cruel insults, but that just puts you right there on her level, back on the elementary school playground and that's not how adults react.

In the grand scheme of things, it doesn't matter. She doesn't matter. She has an opinion. Congratulations. There are any number of people who would discount every word that has come out of her mouth, but she's like accidentally getting a drop of blue dye in your pink cake batter. Sure, there's a sea of wonderfully creamy pink, but now you've got to work to drown out that nasty spot of blue. Perhaps when all is said and done, no one will even notice the slight discoloration in your otherwise perfect batter, but in the back of your mind, you know. You'll always know.