I Know Your Pain

I feel your pain. I see myself in you, and I feel your pain…

When I was your age, I felt like one of the outcasts on The Island of Misfit Toys. During elementary school, interacting with others was like playing a game of Minesweeper, and while I gradually learned the right things to say or do, the random element of the game ensured that I would eventually make a new mistake, thus exploding the board and resulting in a round of merciless taunting and teasing from those whose approval I sought. As a result, by the time I entered middle school I already found that the safest path involved losing myself in worlds of my own choosing. That meant video games, collecting baseball cards, and consuming copious amounts of science fiction, both printed and on screen.

Frak. I’m not certain that’s the best way to introduce what I’d like to tell you. Let me try another tack…

At the age of 12, I was nerdy, counted very few friends due to a heinous deficiency of social skills, and felt both lonely and horribly misunderstood by those around me. Worse, that was the age where my hormones went into spastic overdrive and I found myself romantically attracted to, or just plain hormonally driven towards, others and terrified of being rejected by them. (I use the generic term “others” because I don’t want to assume your sexuality.)

Smeg. I still don’t think that quite captures it. I’ll start from a different angle…

Back when I warily stood on the precipice of becoming a teen, I already felt shell-shocked. Since the beginning of elementary school, I struggled at various times to cope with a fierce onslaught of taunting for my athletic inadequacies, clearly and unapologetically demonstrating “grade grubber” proclivities, a lack of innate social skills, and a pair of unusually large ears that protruded from my head at an extremely unfortunate angle (to this day, it’s still easy to recall the pain of having other kids sneak up behind me to violently flick them and/or call me “Dumbo” to my face.) It was an aggravating and depressing period, and it seemed like the end was never in sight.

Hell. I don’t think it’s possible to compose a satisfactory introduction for what I want to say. There’s far too much and the memories from my own pre- and early teen years sometimes unleash emotions in unexpected, disconcerting ways. What I’m trying to say is this: although I don’t know any of the details in regards to what you’re currently experiencing, I know exactly how you feel.

Because of this, I want to help.

I’m sure you’ve probably already heard it enough times to think it’s some kind of hoary cliché, but it really will get better. I know… I know… Please, just listen… I know what you’re already thinking: things are different for teens today than they were when I was your age. Thirty years ago, I said the exact same thing to the adults who tried to comfort me when I shared the depression and frustration that resulted from my inept navigations through the seven concentric circles of social hell entombed in the hallways of middle and high school.

However, I will concede that in one way you’re right, though probably not in a fashion you’d expect: it’s actually better. Today’s world is far more accepting of and accommodating towards geeks and social misfits than it’s ever been. In some ways, pop culture even celebrates such people, and that’s something you can wield like a life preserver. It’s a world I could have never imagined when I was your age – as evidenced by the fact that thirty years ago, Doctor Who was only available to American viewers via late-night weekend broadcasts on public television. The concept of global simulcasts of season premieres existed only in some kind of feverish fantasy.

Yet, I know that’s small comfort, because in the only way that truly matters to you right now, the teenage experience – the American version of it, that is – has remained constant for multiple generations. The adult world may be making The Big Bang Theory the highest rated sitcom on television, but that doesn’t change the fact that any version of Sheldon, Amy, Leonard, Howard, Bernadette, or Raj currently attending middle or high school is likely just as ostracized now as they would have been when I was 12.

Okay, that last paragraph probably isn’t helping, but I hope the next few will. All the jocks, popular kids, and the others who seem cool, confident, and self-assured right now are struggling too. They are surely almost as insecure and emotionally distraught as you are; they’re just doing a better job of compartmentalizing it. Worse, a few trolls are coping by weaponizing the rather ugly human need to feel superior to others and unapologetically humiliating you. Yet, at the risk of sounding like the epilogue to The Breakfast Club (if you haven’t seen that movie, do so post-haste – if necessary, without your parents’ permission), they are more like you than different. The fact is that the teen years are brutal for everyone, and an imperceptibly minute percentage of mature adults view their teen years as the best of their lives. Keep that in mind as you fantasize about your adult life, which should last roughly three times longer than your entire childhood.

In short, you will survive this. I did, and you can too by treating high school as a crucible to be endured. The key is to focus on the reward waiting at the end of it all: graduation. I know it must seem like an interminable time away, but your diploma comes with a giant Reset button for your social life. The day after graduation, Facebook (or whatever the socially preferred platform is when that time comes) instantly becomes the only way you’re going to interact with most of these people ever again. This is especially true if you plan to attend college. In fact, college is better than a Reset button; because each year one-fourth of the players are newbs who know nothing about anyone or anything there, it’s a whole new MMORPG, and it’s a much friendlier environment than what you’re currently experiencing.

But, I’m getting a little ahead of myself. You still need to find a way to persevere during the coming years, and how you do it is simple. Be honest. Be yourself. If people are going to mock you, don’t let them mock you for something you are not. Embrace the things you love and find all the joy you can in them. Your interests are your protective armor, and you need to revel in them as much as possible, whatever they are: gaming of any kind, collecting, books, music, writing, or even sports – no matter how good you are at them. Never act a certain way solely because you think it will get more people to like you; it won’t work. At best, you may fool people for a little while, but they will eventually see through the pretense, realize that you’re faking it, and then will truly give you hell. Besides, the only people worth having in your life are those who accept you for who are you are.

When your teen years are long over, you may even find that life has a way of amazing you. Even at the age of 17, I never imagined that I would marry a woman who shared many of the interests I cultivated back then. It never occurred to me that I would meet an intelligent woman out there who loved reading genre lit, enjoyed watching sci-fi programs like Doctor Who, and might gently humor me when my attempts at geek humor fell flat. Yet, it happened. Nowhere as soon as I would’ve liked, but I did eventually find her. Thus, as a middle-aged adult I am experiencing what I feel are the best years of my life. (Though I feel that I should add that the college years were pretty damn awesome too.)

Push yourself as hard as necessary to get through your teen years. It’s your way of evening the score with a universe that is utterly indifferent to the hurt you feel. Because I know your pain, I also know that you possess the strength and skills to both survive them and become stronger for having done so. Most importantly, because I know your pain, I really want you to eventually feel my joy.

In the words of the immortal Chris Knight, “It’s a moral imperative.”