Last Sunday, I was touched by an angel.

I was working for Breville all weekend, as I typically do these days. It’s fun! I get to go into kitchen supply stores and hand out cappuccinos and espressos, meet new and exciting people, and play with fun kitchen toys. Let’s face it: it’s like my personalized candy store, and it never stops giving. Nor, it seems, does my credit card. But let’s not talk about that.

On Sunday, I was working at one of the stores, demoing the newest and greatest espresso machine called, The Oracle.

I walked away for a moment to fill up the water jug, and when I came back, a heavy set girl in her late teens was fiddling with the machine.

“Would you like a cappuccino?” I asked her, admittedly a little annoyed that she was trying to use the machine without asking (but who could blame her: it’s pretty bad ass).

She bowed her head down, eyes to the floor, and nodded her head yes.

Immediately my stomach sank. There was no denying the sadness in her movement. The apologetic way that she recoiled into herself, obviously not feeling like she had any self worth.

My mild irritation was instantly replaced with a burning desire to make it all better. And fast.

I decided to investigate to see what was wrong.

“How is your weekend going?” I probed her, with the most cheerful voice I could muster, making sure she knew I cared about what she had to say, that her voice mattered to me.

“Ok,” she said, barely audibly, with a heavy sigh, careful not to make eye contact.

“It doesn’t sound so ok!” I said, trying to pull whatever was bothering her out of her obviously tortured mind.

“Well, I go back to high school tomorrow,” she said again quietly, with an even heavier sigh, and so much sadness in her voice that my eyes immediately filled with tears. These were knowing tears. Tears that came not only from intuition –  knowing before my mind did that her seemingly simple statement meant something dark – but also from personal experience. And I hate to admit it, but she fit the stereotype of the kind of person who would be attractive to bullies. I immediately hated them and wanted to take her pain away.

Resisting the urge to hug her, I choked back my tears and went on:

“Do you not like school?” I innocently asked, trying to guide the conversation to where I knew it would inevitably lead so I could begin to soothe her worries.

“No, I like school,” she said, still looking down at her feet, frowning.

“Do you like the people you go to school with?” I asked with a shaky voice, already knowing the answer.

Without a word, she looked down at her feet even further, and shook her head no.

My heart sank. There was the confirmation I was looking for. And it broke my heart into a million pieces.

Having been bullied myself for a few years, I could relate to this poor young woman. And though I got through it, unfortunately, I knew three people personally who didn’t. All of them in high school  – at different times – took their own lives, likely because they just couldn’t take it anymore. When enough people tell you that you’re worthless, eventually, you start to believe it. You can’t see beyond it, because it’s all you know. To hope for something better – for a brighter future with friends and people who actually like you – would be a fallacy. Because your reality doesn’t lend itself to believing that you even deserve a happier experience in the first place.

As I recalled my own experience, and how I felt at the funerals of those girls who are no longer with us, I felt a responsibility to let this beautiful young woman standing in front of me know her supreme worth. Somehow, I needed to save her life. I owed it to the girls whose lives I didn’t get to save.

This girl, the one sheepishly standing in front of me trying to hide from the world, needed to know that there was life beyond those terrible people who were saying and doing such terrible things to her. Those people who don’t know any better. Those bullies who will one day – hopefully – grow out of throwing hurtful words and actions around and grow up to change the world for the better.

This poor young girl was drowning inside, and I could see it. I just wanted to grab her, squeeze her, and adopt her as my own so I could protect her from the horror she would be going back to the following day. Obviously I couldn’t do that. So I would have to empower her instead.

“I was bullied when I was in high school too,” I started to tell her.

With that, she finally looked up from her shoes and into my eyes. I think she was surprised, and definitely glad not to be alone in her torture. I went on:

“I know how it feels. It doesn’t feel good. I came home crying a lot. But you know what? My mom just told me to keep being nice, and to keep being me, and though it was really, really hard, I did it! And look at me now!” I said with a smile, barely able to keep it together.

She smiled too. And I dare say I saw a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

“Don’t worry about those people. They don’t understand what they’re saying or what they’re doing,” I continued.

“They’re really mean and they care about stupid things,” she said, finally starting to open up to me, AKA the cappuccino lady turned life coach.

“I know,” I said, “and they’ll continue to do it because they don’t know any better yet. Just try to see beyond high school! Think about college. Focus on that! When you get there, you’ll get to choose your own friends and you’ll forget all about those silly people who don’t know how badly they’re actions were hurting you!”

She gave me the biggest smile, looked me in the eyes, and said thank you. There was no mistaking it now – I really could see hope in her eyes.

There was a woman standing close by, who I think was the girl’s mom, because she too gave me a smile and they both walked away together.

I don’t know if our little interaction made any difference in her life, but it certainly did in mine. I wish I had given her a hug. I wish I had gotten her information so I could check in on her, or at least given her mine so she could call me if she needed to. But alas, I was so caught up in the moment that I forgot. I’ll just have to hope that our quick conversation made a difference in her world.

It’s three days later, and I can’t stop thinking about her. I hope she’s found a new lease on life, and that she makes it through the dark times I know she’s facing.

As for me, the experience made me recall how badly I felt during those times when I was bullied, and how sad I was for the girls who passed away by their own hand, but arguably and indirectly, by the many hands of their tormentors’ years of shameless teasing.

You’re probably not a bully or you wouldn’t be reading a website like this. But perhaps there are some improvements you can make in the ways you communicate both with yourself, and with others. I know I sometimes catch myself being mean in little ways: a sarcastic remark at someone’s expense, the flash of road rage as I overtake someone on the highway, and even self deprecating thoughts in my own head about who I am and why it’s not good enough.

Regardless of the kind of offense, it’s never called for, and it’s never ok. There is never a good reason to communicate with anyone – yourself included – in any other way than with positivity and empowerment. You may not believe in God, but we’re definitely creatures of something bigger than us, and we owe it to that  power to be nice to each other, and to ourselves. We are all miraculous beings that deserve to be cherished.

I realize I can’t save the world, and I can’t go searching out bullies and their victims to try to help them, but I can try to effect positive change in my own life, and the lives of those around me whenever the situation arises. So as I continue to reflect on my encounter with the mystery girl with the young face, and the sad eyes, here are 5 things I am committed to doing in an attempt to cancel out the bullying in the world:

I will:

1. Say something nice to a stranger any chance I get – every day, if possible.

2. Stop being sarcastic at other people’s expense, particularly if I know it’s something they are sensitive about.

Of course it’s important to be able to laugh at yourself, as I often do, and usually it comes with a giant side of sarcasm. So if you must practice sarcasm, keep it light and make sure it’s not hurting anyone’s feelings, including your own.

3. Say or do something nice for a friend every day.

4. Speak nicely to myself.

Anytime my chatty mind tells me something negative about myself, I will simply say, “Thank you for your input. I don’t believe you. I am awesome. Please move along,” or something along those lines. Just remember whenever you are having a self deprecating moment to ask yourself: would you let someone talk about your best friend that way? If the answer is no, then stop doing it to yourself.

5. Refrain from practicing road rage.

This one is going to be a tough one for me, but I vow to resist the urge to get angry at people who drive like fools, shaking my head and waving my hands at them as I pass by to let them know that what they did was stupid. I will just breathe and let it go instead, because maybe they are having a bad driving day. And we all have those, don’t we?

Hopefully, by now, you will have identified some things in your own life that you can shift – just a little – to make your world, and the one around you, a little nicer.

And hopefully, somewhere out there, there is a girl who will recall the day that she went into a Sur La Table for a cappuccino, and left with more than she bargained for:

Hope for a better tomorrow, and the courage to be seen, to be heard, and to be loved.

#stopbullying

#riseabovebullying

Lauren
xxx

To learn more about bullying and how you can help stop it, visit Rise Above Bullying