How to save a starfish

As a kid I got made fun of and put down, what we would now call bullying.

I know this didn’t only happen to me, but is it just me that held on to it for more than 3 decades and let it form part of who I thought I was?

Here’s a snapshot of what happened..

I’ve always loved words and writing. When I was about 8, I looked around my classroom and thought it would be fun and clever to alliterate each of my classmates’ names. Think: Perfect Paul, Serene Sonia and Magic Megan. Someone (Paul in fact), got a hold of the list and wasn’t impressed.

He says, “And how about you – Bitchy Belinda?”.

I was flabbergasted. I made up nice words! Perfect Paul! What was so offensive about that?!

When I was in year 5, I took school sport at the ocean baths, a bus ride away from our primary school. A girl a year older had me in her vicious sights. I was sitting near her one day, with my mouth resting on my bent up knee, pondering the world out the window.

“She’s giving herself a hicky!” she declared with cunning glee.

Everyone turned to look at me. I knew what a hicky was. Of course, I knew that wasn’t what I was doing. I said nothing and sunk deeper into my seat.

When I was in my final year of primary school we moved to another city. One afternoon at a park, hanging out with some new friends, someone declared that I was “posh” because I did classical ballet.

I thought posh people were adults who talked with refined British accents, ate dinner after 8pm and wore fur coats and jewels. I considered myself a regular person, I was so confused! So I started doing tae kwon do and acting a bit tough around those kids.

First year of high school, teasing came from the boys. They called me “hump free” because I was wearing an 8AA bra just so I could say I was wearing one at all. (Gee, didn’t that late blooming come as an unexpected change!).

These experiences, and others I had that were similar, would surely pale in comparison to what other people went through, but it’s how they shaped me that I am exploring here.

Each time these kinds of things happened, I got smaller. I never stood up for myself or fought back. I never told anybody, certainly not my parents or teachers, I was way too embarrassed and ashamed for that.

I worried that maybe they were right.

Maybe I didn’t know you shouldn’t look like you were kissing your leg in public!

Maybe the way I viewed my classmates was obnoxious and offensive.

Maybe I did strut around acting all posh and full of myself.

They were right about my non-existent boobs, but then I worried that I’d never develop and look like everyone else, because that’s the most important thing in high school!

So I just believed them. I believed I was not a kind, loveable person. I believed it was OK for people to target me with their criticisms and taunts, and that I just had to suck it up, ignore it, bury it and move on.

As I approach my 50th year, my perspective on these experiences is changing.

It’s highly likely these events, and others, fuelled my “not good enough” stuff, which I now know, most people have to some degree, the difference is how strongly that shows up.

But I also think it was an experience that fuelled a force for good.

It’s the “one starfish at a time” concept.

You know the story – a child is walking along the beach where thousands of star fish have been washed up on to the shore. Most of them are dead, the rest are dying. The child is stopping to pick up those with some life left in them, tossing those back in to the sea as he walks along. An old man has been watching the child, approaches and says “you know this is a waste of time. There are too many starfish washed up here, you won’t make a difference!” The child picks up another starfish, clinging to life, tosses it back into the sea and declares “Made a difference to that one!”

Rather than being overwhelmed by the situation – such as not being liked by people, facing criticism, feeling like you don’t fit in – just try to make one new friend at at time. Try to win over one person at a time by showing them who you are and what you can do.

Some time in my late 30s this came home to roost for me. I found myself working in a hostile work environment, where building relationships with these adversaries was critical to success. I endeavoured to convert one “starfish” at at time, and eventually broke through the barriers my colleagues had built to protect themselves and made a real go of it.

My next role faced similar challenges, and again the starfish approach worked.

I now have a framed print in my office that my husband made for me. A beautiful big starfish, with that phrase “one starfish at a time” emblazoned across it.

I don’t need the reminder as often now, thank goodness, but it’s sure to come to pass again.

So I now choose to thank my childhood taunters and workplace adversaries, because they gave me the gift of resilience, the opportunity to really believe I could be a force for good, and some of them I even converted into my friends.