A good friend of mine from school and I still keep in contact, although we’re busy with our lives and are at opposite corners of the earth. As time permits, we do what most friends do: send long audio notes and wait for replies as and when time allows. Recently, after a long time, we caught up with a series of these long audio notes, discussing traumas from the past and the process of healing—whether self-healing or spiritual. My friend is not a Christian, but she understands when I talk about healing from Jesus and the healing that can come only through Him. Anyway, today the discussion led me to a surprising revelation, which I thought I should write about.
When we were 7 years young, we had an unforgettable English teacher at school. She was stylish, always wore a saree, as teachers were required to, and was good-looking. But that was the only good thing we could tell about as kids. She inflicted trauma on us that we carried for years. Since I did not have a pleasant childhood overall, when I get flashbacks, I think of the children I know who’d be around the age I was then. I can't imagine hurting an angelic child as I was hurt. And because of my great memory, I remember most things vividly, like a video recording.
This teacher, when she got angry, would do something so bad that we could never forget her. She’d smack our heads with a pencil box. And if you brought a pouch instead of a pencil box, she'd get the plastic pencil box from the person next to you and smack your head. Yes, I’ve seen that happen and still have the image in my photographic memory. The sin was never pardoned, and the punishment was never forgotten. One time a pencil box was broken, but we were too scared to voice it to anyone. We were expected to suffer in silence. The pain and public humiliation were supposed to teach us a lesson: if you had brought the crayons, this wouldn’t have happened to you. If you had brought your textbook, this wouldn’t have happened to you. Let it be a reminder to never do anything amiss that might infuriate your teacher.
I would come home and tell my mom about it. During those days, it was just my mom and me at home. Since there was a lot going on in her life, and consequently in our little home, there was no time for emotional support for anyone. She’d say, "You could have taken your textbook as per the timetable. Yes, good, this is what you get for being naughty, rightly punished." My friend, who did not bring the crayons, had a similar situation at home, living only with her mom. Times were hard at both our places, but we never shared it with the outside world. My friend’s mom was even stopped by the teacher on her scooter and given an earful about her child not bringing the crayons.
Thankfully, that was the only year she taught at our school. Years passed, but I remembered her face and name so clearly. After school, I somehow reconnected with her over my old Facebook account. I told her what she had done to me. She was friendly and accepting but never apologized. She showed a side of her that was friendly, but I wasn’t in a place to start a lasting friendship with her. After I married, I once shared this with my husband, Danny. He couldn't understand how someone could be so unfair to little kids. He had a happy childhood and his memory is not photographic like mine.
He’d tell me about his friends from school. Most of his friends had happy homes. Maybe. Or they just never shared anything, like me and my friend for example. However, he had one friend from school whose parents were separated and later divorced. It was her mom and grandparents who raised her. I thought, maybe she had a childhood like mine. This friend got married and is living her life “following her dreams.” Her mom allowed her the freedom to choose her husband and live the way she wanted. This lady was also friendly with Danny and their circle of friends. She was a daring single mom, friends with her daughter’s friends, in short, a very cool mom.
As my friend and I talked about our teacher yesterday, she searched for her and found that the teacher is now working as a leadership coach in an MNC. Leadership coach—this slightly irritated my friend, but I laughed it off, realizing that I am healed from that childhood memory of her. Curiously, I searched for her on Google, thanks to my friend who remembers her last name. Yes, the results showed her name and “leadership coach” on her LinkedIn page. I opened it. She had bobbed her hair and had some grays; earlier, she had hair up to her shoulder and always kept it in a ponytail with a clip. I zoomed in on her profile picture and looked at her face which showed the test of time and hardships, although she was smiling. My husband walked in on me, and before I could introduce my scary teacher from school, he asked, "Hey, do you know her?" as if he knew her well.
I said, "This is the trauma teacher I told you about. The pencil box smacker."
I had mentioned her old tale as hot news even that morning after listening to the audio from my friend. Danny still looked at her pic like he knew her. I realized he was serious and knew her. So, I returned the question back to him,
"Do you know her?"
"Of course," he laughed a little, as he couldn't believe it.
It was his friend's mom I had just told you about.
My friend couldn’t control her laughter either as she heard my voice note. As the incident ended, I realized how I was viewing the same person in two different ways. Many might think good of me, and many might not. But I know it is not the full picture they have of me. It’s only a speck in the vast universe of my life. As in this case, I viewed her as a heartless teacher who who smacked and humiliated me and my friends in front of the whole class, and as per Danny’s account, she was a friendly, cool, and a daring single mom. While both my friend’s mom and my mom were going through issues at home, she was also going through similar turmoil and her outlet for frustration was us, her poor 7-year-old students. It’s true that trauma begets trauma. As years passed and things got better, she evolved and became kind, friendly, and approachable to everyone around her. But I never knew it, and neither did my friend. We carried the baggage and hurt from her for years.
This led me to think of a post I found online. Here it is:
Forgiveness is a gift. I’ve always thought you’d need to ask for forgiveness and forgive others in person. Well, not always do you need that happen. In the end, it always points to you and God. As one of my dear friends in Christ and a Christian clinical counselor always says: forgive. For you and for your relationship with God. Help heal yourself and allow God to heal you, and your relationships with others will also fall into place.
Imagine carrying a big piece of rock as you’re struggling to catch your breath in the ocean, and you have chains of rock all around you—chains that you can release yourself from. God, with His omniscient eagle-eye vision, will show you the big story. Let your ego not hide your eyes from what He wants to show you. As it happened with me, God showed me the fuller picture through my husband Danny. As you forgive others and allow God to heal you, God will show you the big picture. It doesn’t always have to be in a spiritual vision. Like mine, for example, it can also suddenly happen as a funny surprise.
Do you have any such incidents when God showed you the fuller picture after you came to terms with His will? I’d love to hear them.
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