Overcoming the fear

When I saw my son cried in his school, I cried with him. I understood the fear he was facing. When I left him, he screamed and kicked with all his might. He didn't want to stay in the school. All he wanted was to stay in the house, his comfort zone, without any disturbance and play with his toys all day long. But life has different phases. As he grows older and older, he needs to face different things and the first challenge he needs to face is SCHOOL. 

I don't remember myself crying when I was sent to the school. I wasn't afraid. I liked school. Probably because I have an older brother who showed me how much he enjoyed going to school and having plenty of friends, it made me feel it would be an enjoyable experience for me too. 

Again, when I pondered at my son's wet face, I remembered myself struggling on the floor, trying to snatch my dad's medication from my mom. I was down and under and was hoping to take my life away due to fear. Of what? The people around me. 

My first job was a nightmare. I joined a local bank and was pushed around by the seniors into doing different tasks and was called names and bullied verbally every day in front of waiting customers. Tears ran down my face yet they did not stop the act of bullying. In fact, the tears proved that they were right, I was a loser and they had won the battle of torturing a new staff. The turnover in the bank was high. No new employee can withstand the bully more than 6 months. The manager wasn't doing anything. He couldn't because he was being boycotted as well. 

Dad had been encouraging. He said nothing should stop me from working in the bank because it pays well with many benefits. But I was adamant. I couldn't sleep. I was like a waking vampire, wandering in the bank during office hours and at night, couldn't sleep but kept thinking what was going to happen the next day and what their tricks would be. Life was meaningless. 

When I decided to take my life away, Dad allowed me to hand in my resignation. I was glad that I could finally withdraw myself from the torture. 

Now thinking back, I wondered whether things would be different if I were a Christian then...Would I survive the torture and bullying? I really wanted to know for I do not want to be a loser for life. I don't want to bring this fear, the same fear of facing challenges/ torture to the next generation. Because I gave up, I have nothing to share with my son. I could not share the triumph I didn't experience. I was a dodger, but I don't want my son to be like me.