Flight vs. Fight

I recently returned from a visit with my mother and our family, after not having seen my mom, aunts and cousins in nearly 17 years. As we sat there reminiscing, I recalled how I spent most of my school-age years getting picked on, bullied, and beat up. My mother said that she never realized that so many people were hitting me, because I hardly ever talked about it. Well, it wasn’t exactly something I was proud of. I was even less proud of the fact that, whenever I got hit, I rarely hit back.

More often that not, I chose flight over fight. I’d either cry until they stopped, or I’d walk or run away. I never had anyone teach me how to take a punch, so usually after I got punched once, I was done. And it always hurt. And I didn’t like pain. It never occurred to me that as long as I was gonna hurt anyway, I should try to give as good (or bad) as I was getting. Sure I would have gotten some lumps, but they’d be badges of honor, not shame. I probably would have gotten more respect out of the deal, in the long run. The neighborhoods I grew up in were rough; I needed to be rougher.

These days, I’m still non-confrontational, but if a conflict arises, I now realize it’s not in my best interest to back down. I won’t start a fight, but I sure will be quick to end it.

One thought on “Flight vs. Fight

  1. This sure sounds like me earlier childhood too. Kids picking on my Brother and I for being foster kids to some really old parents. We were loved and blessed by the best all along. We just had each other and back then that was enough. Not easy being outcasted kids. It wasn’t our fault. Still hurts like hell. I want to fight and hurt them back …but it ius not in me. AUNT Mary don’t miss a chance not to KNOW my story.

    Like

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