Not Good Memories

"I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel." -Maya Angelou

When the Mom of No was the adolescent of awkward, I was not the most popular student in school.  We'll just say that teenage social skills were not a strength.  For several years, I was tormented by a group of girls at school.  As we got older, the torment morphed into indifference, which came as a relief.  After graduation, I went on with my life- although I won't be going to any class reunions (I'd rather have a root canal- and it is known that the Mom of No is a dental-phobe), I don't usually think of or reflect upon that time in my life.

A few years ago I was on the prowl for recipes for a dish using green chilies, of which I had an abundance at the time, and I came across a food blog written by a woman whose name sounded uncomfortably familiar.  A bit of research revealed that she was one of my old tormentors, now a foodie living in a different state.  I had a few days of flashback agony, and then the demands of my current life took precedence once again.

A few days ago I was engaged in one of my favorite activities- hanging out at the library and looking at books- and I came across her cookbook.  I knew that she had written a book, but seeing it in my own library felt like a betrayal. I felt dizzy and nauseated.  I can no longer tell you specifically anything that this girl said or did, but I remember clearly how badly I felt about myself because of her and her friends, and, how for a long while,  I was unsure of myself and distrustful of the motives of others.  I had a fantasy, as a kid, of growing up and finding out that my tormentors had lives filled with angst and suffering while I had achieved great deeds. My fantasy was, at that moment, completely uprooted. My former bully had gone on and become a success.  The great wheel of Karma was NOT WORKING! The great wheel of Karma had BETRAYED ME!

If I could have taken that book and burned it in that moment, I would have.  I had a momentary urge to rip the pages out of that book, or scrawl all over it "DO NOT READ THIS COOKBOOK! THE AUTHOR IS THE BRIDE OF SATAN!". I wanted to check it out of the library and take it outside, then run over it with my car in the parking lot while screaming, "EAT THIS, YOU (insert profanity here).  And then, of course, my law abiding citizen instincts took over.  Besides, even if I did that, I would feel better for a few minutes and then feel even worse because (1) I don't believe in destroying books, even ones I have a personal vendetta against, and (2), I'd be in jail for destroying public property and banned from the library for life.  I was even tempted to go home and write a really nasty review of her book on Amazon and tell the world that she was a middle school bully- but that urge passed after a moment. It just seemed wrong, for many reasons.

I put the book back on the shelf, took a deep breath, and walked away.  I mulled over this blog post for awhile and debated- should I? Shouldn't I? This hasn't been easy to write. I feel the need to produce some amazing insight, and I have nothing.  I put the book on the shelf and walked away. I will never look at it again, and I will certainly never use any of this woman's recipes no matter how good they are.  Perhaps the takeaway here is that we often underestimate how our actions impact other people.  Even though I haven't seen this woman since high school, her name still has the power to make me physically nauseated.  Perhaps if we kept in mind that what we do can impact others in ways we may never know, the world might be a (slightly) better place.