I’m fairly emotionally robust, a product probably of both nature
and nurture. I’d like to think I’m not completely insensitive, but it takes a
fair bit to hurt my feelings, let alone do any kind of serious damage. I can’t
imagine what someone would have to do to me to cause permanent harm to my
worldview, self-image or confidence. (My family may, of course, wish to offer
their own take on any spirit of self-congratulation that sneaks into such a
self-assessment.)
But that’s not true of everyone. It wasn’t even always true
of me. In Grade 5 when I first encountered bullies (or more accurately, they
first encountered me), I was insecure, terrified and conflict-avoidant. Mostly
I was perpetually astonished at the intensity of their venom, which as far as I could tell was directed my way for no reason at all. I walked miles out of my
way to get home from school without being pummeled silly.