8 and a half minutes

On how a young girl I have never met, and never will, unlocked the doors to my darkest places. 

After my dad died, I have become more easily moved by things I see and hear. Movies, blog posts, speeches in church. But I tend to forget the feeling moments later. But this weekend a flashcard video just over 8 minutes long moved me in such a profound way that I am still sitting here, a day later, still unable to handle my feelings. Unable to eat. Almost unable to think on other things.

On Sunday, I had just come back from a weekend of astronomy with friends. I logged on to Facebook and saw a friend had "Liked" a memorial page. I entered the page and found the story of a 15 year old girl who committed suicide just a few days earlier. The most disgusting thing was that some of her bullies actually had the nerve to write on her memorial page that "she deserved to die". How can anybody in their right mind do such a thing? What kind of society have we produced that lead to such attitudes? I started to understand how she felt in the video. I got an invite to a birthday lunch from a friend. I wanted to go, but felt I couldn't. I just sat there, totally drained.

I have often said to friends that I am glad I am not a kid today. Growing up when I did was bad enough. Today, they face the problems of the internet and mobiles. Electronic bullying. And the internet spreading everything like wildfire. This morning, when sitting on the tram to work, I was looking at the teens sitting around me. I don't know if my vision has changed, but I thought I could see fear and pain in their eyes. Fear of doing something that would change their status from "hot" to "not". From "hero" to "zero" in one small "mistake". Pain of having to hide every "weakness" out of fear of exposure. I know this is not uncommon. In Norway, in Canada. Everywhere. 

When I was a kid, I had little self-esteem. And when I started school, I often sat alone inside when the other kids where out playing. And in one fatal moment during one lunch break in first grade, I did something that changed everything from bad to worse. I walked past the jackets that the other kids had hung up in the hall. Stroking them. A boy came in to have a drink of water. He saw me and ran out. Suddenly, all the kids came in and they accused me of pick-pocketing. All my attempts of denial was futile. They searched my pockets. One guy claimed he had money in his pocket that now was gone. I was judged and sentenced by the mob. I became even more isolated. Every time I walked out in the yard, the other kids surrounded me, threatening to beat me up for my "crimes". In the end, nobody cared whether I was guilty or not. They had found an easy prey to bully. Whenever I tried to get back "in". Whenever I thought they had all forgotten. One voice was all it took. "Here comes the thief, watch your pockets!" More or less during all primary school years, I was abused both physically and verbally. Whenever I told someone about the bullying, their only reply would be "Ignore them, and they'll stop!". So I quit telling anyone about it. Cause it didn't stop. Whenever they broke my stuff, I always took the blame when my mom asked me what had happened. During one period, I developed pyromaniac tendencies. Loved to watch things burn. I had one true friend. But during the teen years, we drifted apart. About the age of Amanda, the thoughts of ending it all felt more and more tempting. Luckily, I can say today, I became a christian and for the first time in my life, I felt loved. And from that moment on, I got a reason to live.

Sometimes, when getting to know new people, I try to sum up our different paths before we met by using the information I have. And I did the same with Amanda. A few weeks before Christmas 1996, there were cheers both in Norway and in Canada. I had just been offered my first ever "real" job, and in a hospital in Canada, a baby girl had just been born. I had entered a new phase in my life. She had just started hers. About the time she started school, I lost my dad. Two and a half years ago, I went to North Korea to see hell on Earth, and she did the one little thing that would make her life a living hell. On Friday, September 7'th this year, Amanda posted her video on YouTube, and I watched "Forrest Gump" with people in my church. On Wednesday night, I was sitting on the rooftop veranda of my apartment block, trying to fix some software bugs at my telescope. In Canada, probably during the exact same time, Amanda's too short life came to an end. 

I sat there yesterday, watching the video over and over again. I went to her YouTube page and saw that just a few days before she departed, she "liked" a music video. I listened to it. A simple love song. But the thought of who had recently liked it, and why, brought tears to my eyes. I started thinking about the "what ifs"? What if I had seen her video a few weeks ago? Would I have replied to her desperate call for "someone"? Or would I have felt inadequate, frightened, unqualified? Unqualified for what? Being human? Humane? What if I had just sent her a small note telling her about her real value? What if. What if? It may seem futile to think about it now, but if those "what ifs" leads to action next time, they are worthwhile. Instead of becoming a "feelbad" junkie, I could make a difference. Because Amanda was just the reported case. The one we heard about (I saw a note on the frontpage in one Norwegian newspaper today). Who was strong enough to post a video about her situation. Most of the Amandas of the world are still out there. Still walking alone. Still waiting for "someone" to be their true friend. To stand up for them. To love them for who they are. Despite their social "mistakes".
I was reminded of the refrains of a song by the christian rock band Petra. "For Annie". The refrains go

"And it's too late for Annie
She's gone away for good
There's so much we could tell her
And now we wish we could
But it's too late, it's too late for Annie"

But the last refrain goes

"Annie's lost forever, never to be found
But there are lots of others like her all around
And it's not too late for Annie
She could be next to you"

I still feel the pain from watching her video. Almost a day after. For it opened up the door to one of my dark places. The places I had kept under lock and key for most of my adult life. Not that I haven't talked about the bullying, but the feelings have been kept locked down. So it has been just a story. Nothing else.

We never met, but you did find the key to my darkest places, Amanda. Not by forced entry, nor by trickery, but by your honesty. And I wish I could have thanked you for that. 

R.I.P.

Amanda Todd, November 27th 1996 - October 10th 2012