Ryan's Story

I was that kid who would try to make his splash into the in-crowd with things like talking tough and trying to be funny. My attempts just landed me as the butt of people’s jokes.

People always kind of picked on me too--not badly, but it was still bad. Everything I ever said was thrown back at me with humiliating results. I would sling words back, but that didn’t help either. I was never good at coming up with insults, so I can see why people would laugh at me. Things they found particularly amusing: my name, my red hair, and calling me “Ronald” just to annoy me as they knew it would. I now know that I was overly sensitive about it, but I wouldn’t ever let it go. There were times when I could kind of get into the inner circle, but they viewed me as nothing more than a time-killer.

Sometimes people would call me over to their table, but often just for a couple laughs. Then somebody would yell out, “Ryan, come sit with us!”

“Ok,” I’d say, but it wasn’t like I hoped.

The next day, I wouldn’t be invited over again. I stayed more and more to myself, wanting to reach out less and less. Yet at the same time, I still wanted to fit in and make friends, but when I got a chance I just wanted to leave.

I was at a loss when things got worse. So I retaliated with anger and aggression. Everybody could always easily get a rise out of me when they provoked me. I started to create a boundary, and jumped at anybody who I felt crossed it. I could also be unwilling to forgive and forget, carrying on a grudge for years.

But once again, all it did was inspire people to carry on farther. And I would respond with more anger, and eventually my short fuse and aggression became a natural part of me. I kept this up throughout middle school, holding bitterness towards people for years, and even getting into multiple physical confrontations. (I never won.) It kept people off my back, so I was content for the most part. But a part of me still wanted to reach out again, meet new people, and try to make friends. Yet the majority of me never wanted to go out there again. But one day in my sophomore year started to make things change.

It was the start of my first period class one day, and I had just walked into the classroom. Another student was sitting on my desk, talking to another student. I wanted my seat back, and you know how teenage guys are around each other. So, I thought everyone would think it would be a good joke if I messed around with the guy a little bit. I pulled out a pencil I had, and started to make some stabbing motions. He laughed and got up, and all the while other people started laughing.

Given how I try to use laughter to thaw relations with people, I thought maybe I should carry on a little bit. I chased him around the classroom, continuing to make jabbing motions with my pencil, and he seemed to enjoy it. Everyone else laughed and cheered me on, but I finally stopped. A person said I should have “gone further,” but I merely finished it off with some threatening comments. Things carried on normally for the rest of that week, but then I got called down to the office the next Tuesday. It turned out that I freaked somebody out, and I got told on. I was suspended from school for three days. But sometimes good things come out of harsh times, as one of the things the school required me to do (in addition to my suspension) happened to be something quite helpful to me.

I was required to see a therapist, and I chose one by the name of Dr. Robert Aberg. I had to tell him how I felt and what drove me into situations like that, and tell him about myself, my problems, why things were how they were, and what I could do to help change these things. With confidentiality ensured, he has always been the only person I felt like I could confide in. Talking to him helped me unwind for the first time in years. For some reason, my anger began to dissolve. He even helped me make a couple of new friends, and helped re-ignite my desire to make friends. I finally learned to be a little less defensive.

After seeing Dr. Aberg, I started looking at myself, and tried to look at myself from other people’s perspectives. I’ve realized that I’ve never been without fault. My temper drove people away, and I was quite self-absorbed in my younger days. A lot of the time, I guess I just wasn’t really a nice guy. And I see now why people would label me as weird.

For the longest time, I thought I’d be better off alone, that I’d be happier if I chased everybody off. But like the old saying goes, "Be careful for what you wish for.”