hurting my heart

I hate watching my children's feeling get hurt. I hate it so much I sometimes entertain the idea of moving somewhere isolated where we never have to run into other people. I don't suppose that's realistic and I'd only be delaying the inevitable. I know we can't grow up without having our feelings hurt - but I never would have believed it would be easier to have it happen to yourself than to watch someone you love get hurt.

We attended a hockey game the other night and my eldest ran off to meet a friend of hers in the crowd. The middle two - my son, J and my dd E, followed in hot pursuit of finding friends. J saw a couple kids he'd played hockey with the year before and figured he'd go sit with them. Unfortunately - they aren't exactly the nicest kids, gosh - that's being so generous, and when he went over they said nothing at all. I know these things happen to everyone and its something we all have to live through but I had to sit across the arena and watch it happen. Watch my sweet boy standing just a foot or so off waiting for one of them to say hi...and they didn't. Watch him walk away, trying to be nonchalant, shrugging it off. Watch them sit there together, smug little buggers - no different than their fathers most of them - and I had to struggle not to walk over and slap the smile off their faces.

J came back to sit beside us and he seemed ok. He blamed it on the fact that E was with him - cramping his style I suppose. But then - like an unnecessary lesson in building mental strength - another hockey buddy arrived, with a friend in tow and sat right in front of us. There was no more pretense of feeling ok - he was absolutely dejected.

I asked him if he was ok. Yeah. I asked him if he was hurt by something the boys across the arena had said. No. I asked him if he didn't want to go sit with the boys in front of us. No. I told him I was happy to have some company. And he snuggled a little closer to me.

I pointed out to him the teenage boy sitting in front of us in a wheelchair. I said - you know, I bet sometimes he just wants somebody to ask him to sit with them too. The teenager was sitting next to his mother, a spot I suspect he is at often. My son didn't say anything but in a few minutes he slid down in front of us and tapped his hockey teammate on the shoulder.

The boy - a quiet, shy boy himself, turned with a big grin towards J. Before long, they were all engrossed in a game of jacks and J was comfortable in his own skin again.

I remember those days so pointedly. I was popular I guess - but I never felt like anyone really 'got' me. I was a creative, artistic minded kid. A drama geek in the making with a mind that focused more on world politics and science experiments than what new toy or band was cool. My son is an artist like me. He is a talented young pianist with a real natural ability. He dances and has a lot of potential. He's got a crazy sense of humour. He's an excellent hockey defenseman. He's polite and quiet and respectful.

I wish I could just take it all away - all the pain of feeling like you don't fit in. I wish I could bottle him up - protect him from any hurtful words. But I can't.

What I can do - is tell him never to let anyone make him feel less than he is. Tell him the people who look down on you should be pitied, because they don't see the world with the same eyes we do. Tell him whenever he's feeling sorry for himself to look around, there's always someone who's been there and felt it too. Tell him he'll feel better if he makes sure that he never does something to make someone feel like he feels right now. Tell him - he is talented and smart and no one can take that away. Tell him I love him and if he does have a bad day, I will always be here waiting for him to tell all his troubles to.