*I’m only referencing things that happened to me when I was younger. This does not define the principles of the church and it does not mean that every church member or ward is this way. I had a special experience and to this day I know it made me stronger. I am a proud member of my church and am grateful and blessed for the experiences that I have had.*
When I was twelve lots of things mean happened to me.
In a bullying way.
I was always picked on because everyone thought I was different.
If you want to read about my first encounter with bullying head here.
My next bulling experience is something similar to my previous one.
I was 13 years old.
My ward recently had split and they created new boundaries so again I had to make new friends.
No one knew me so they automatically didn’t like me.
There were times in church where I would sit alone, no one would talk to me except an occasional “hello” from one of the leaders.
I could hear girls whispering about me and they would always look at me funny.
There were times when I wouldn’t want to go to class and I would ditch and stay in the bathroom.
I didn’t want to be in a place where I didn’t feel welcome.
For some reason I had “SOCIAL OUTCAST” written across my fore-headed brace-face, it was big and bold.
I remember feeling so alone, and feeling so left out.
There were times when I would tell my mom that I didn’t want to go back to church.
That the girls were mean, and no one even cared that I was there.
I didn’t want to go to their activities, I just didn’t want to be around people that were THAT mean.
But, there was one time when my mom and I were walking out of church and I told her that I wan’t coming back.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
And I started crying.
I cried because I was in pain.
All I wanted was for someone to be my friend.
Just one person.
As I got in the car, my mom getting ready to get in, someone from the ward calls out for my mom and then they call for me.
And I will never forget this moment.
An older girl from my ward (by older I mean 16) was calling my name.
She had something in her hand and she gave it to me, I don’t remember exactly what it was, but it had something to do with church.
She talked to me for a minute and then told me that she wanted to sit by me the following week at church.
And at that moment I knew that it would be alright.
I knew that she had listened to that still small voice.
That she felt the need to reach out and help me.
Somehow she knew I was struggling.
To this day I don’t know if she realized how much she touched my life.
But she really did, and I am ever so grateful.