This may sound like a dramatic title, an exaggerated title even, but if you think this, you obviously never met my grandmother! Let’s just say, if the dictionary was illustrated my grandmother would have been the picture for amazing. She was an evacuee from Belfast in the Second World War and raised her children during the troubles in Northern Ireland. Despite both my parents being born and raised over there, they decided to move over to Wales in the 1970s where they stayed to eventually start a family.
About 10 years ago, I spoke to my grandmother about bullying. Something came on the television and although I can’t remember what it was that was on, I remember saying to my grandmother about how bullying victims should move schools to avoid the bullies. I hadn’t told my grandmother that I was being bullied myself and I don’t think I ever did. However, on this day, after saying that bullying victims should move schools, my grandmother turned to me and with an extremely puzzled expression asked me a question.
“Why?”
I was a bit taken aback by the question. To me, it seemed obvious that moving schools would eliminate the problem of bullying. But for my grandmother, it was like suggesting that chopping off someone’s head would cure their broken leg. As my face was now as puzzled as hers, my grandmother decided to expand her question.
“Why should you let bullies win? Moving schools is like telling bullies that they are right. Telling bullies that they are right is encouraging them to bully others. Do you think that is right?” I can’t remember her exact words but this was the gist. As always, my grandmother was right.
“But it’s really difficult to put up with bullies!” I came back with. My grandmother recited ‘Sticks and Stones’ and then told me about how she overcame her bullies. However, her bullies weren’t your average school bully. Her bullies were the IRA.
The IRA (Irish Republican Army) were as feared in Ireland during the 1960s as al-Qaeda are feared across the globe today. The British Army were deployed to Northern Ireland in 1969 but the troubles continued until the ‘Good Friday Agreement’ in 1998 and in some respects, the troubles have never really stopped. The British Army didn’t even withdraw from Northern Ireland until 2007! Car bombs, pipe bombs and shootings took place very regularly. In 32 years of the troubles, over 3,500 people were killed. Certain areas were more dangerous than others, just like Iraq and Afghanistan are today.
My grandmother used to walk through one of the most dangerous areas everyday to get to work. This was years before I was born but I know that many members of my family tried to convince her to get another job in a safer area. She refused. She wouldn’t let the IRA defeat her and make her give up her job! That day 10 years ago, after telling me about this, she told me that she didn’t look for another job because if she gave up her job, then someone else would have to risk their life to do it. The shop she worked for would be without a member of staff until they hired someone else, if someone else was even willing to work there! She really did look out for others first, herself last. She was utterly selfless and had nerves of the toughest steel.
From that day, I felt more inspired to keep fighting the bullies and not let them win. After all, if my grandmother could walk down an IRA infested street everyday, could I not attend school everyday and not let verbal bullying defeat me? However, my nerves were not made of the steel that my grandmother’s were made from and the bullies defeated me when I left school aged 16.
My grandmother died nearly 6 years ago with the same amount of courage and selflessness that she had had all her life. I am nothing like my grandmother in this respect sadly, but I am starting to gain a little courage. The biggest thing I have done recently was telling people I didn’t know very well that I have schizophrenia. Another hurdle I will have to overcome shortly will be when I attend group therapy. I have always turned down group therapy in the past as I have social anxiety. But as I have my grandmother’s courage flowing through my veins, I know I can do it.
If my grandmother can walk down a street knowing that a bomb could go off at any second or a shooter could have her in his sight, I can walk into a room full of strangers and talk about myself. After all, group therapy is hopefully going to help me and definitely won’t kill me. And with two nurses on hand during the therapy, I’ll be a lot safer than my grandmother was.
I miss her a lot, especially at this time of year. She had a December birthday and died in January. I always try to buy my mom white tulips on the anniversaries as these are the flowers we remember her (and my grandfather) by. I could write this much about my grandfather too as he was as inspiring as my grandmother! But I shall end this post here.
