Made the Hit List
The story begging to be told. I thought we were friends, but they wanted me out of their life. I’ve punished myself long enough, now I’m asking the right questions.
“Everyone has darkness in them. It’s not about getting rid of it. It’s about accepting it.” -God from Lucifer
I’ve waited to tell this story, because I didn’t know where it belonged. BUT it’s been begging to be told. For MY healing, I’m sharing it here.
While I can blame a lot of conditioning and trauma on my mother and adults around me… I stepped into this one all on my own. For better or the worse this event shaped who I’ve become. I’ve gaslighted myself around the series of events, played it off as a joke, ignored it, and held deep shame and regret over my actions. But no more…
Though it wasn’t entirely my fault, I took accountability for everything. Subconsciously I’ve punished myself for decades, creating layers of trauma, conditioning, insecurity, and numbness throughout my life. *Cringe* Some that I’m just realizing.
It feels like fiction, but I assure you, it was real life. My real life.
WARNING: This piece will have A LOT of trigger topics. Please read with caution.
Naming Harry
When I was in sixth grade the first Harry Potter book was published, and I was obsessed! The story resonated deeply within me. It gave me hope that I’d be rescued from the mundane and whisked away into a magical world.
Craving escape from the lack of control I held over my life, I lived in daydreams and fantasies. Which my middle school unknowingly fueled with its similarities to the Wizarding World.
Sixth, seventh, and eight graders were split into three main Houses. Each House held our homerooms, core classes, and lockers. We even learned points throughout the year for spirit, academics, and charity. The winning House got a House Cup.
The students in each House had similar characteristics. A House was the preps and jocks. B house was the future burn outs and troublemakers. C House was the alternatives and misfits. GO C HOUSE!
One of my friends, well, I thought was my friend, was nerdy, scrawny, smart, awkward (it was sixth grade we were all awkward). He had a bowl cut, dark hair, and glasses. To me he was Harry Potter…. and I had a little crush on him.
***For privacy, I won’t use his real name. ***
We were in the same circles. In class we were friendly and worked on projects and homework together. In the halls I’d tease, tickle, and called him Harry.
Adults normalized handling crushes with teasing. “Oh, Timmy hit you and pulled your hair?!?!? He LIKES you… oooo.”
Harry would make these cute little huff noises and foot stomps. Which I thought was all part of the joke... But the joke was on me.
I liked him as a friend, thought he was cutie, and I loved Harry Potter. My intention in calling him Harry wasn’t to be cruel, to me it was endearing and part of my escape.
Shattering My Delusions
By eighth grade, Harry had mostly fallen off my radiator. Though we still had similar circles, we didn’t see much of each other. I was popular and floated from group to group.
I’d also gone through some deep personal changes trying to find myself.
I’d quit going to church and was studying paganism. I’d swapped acting and cheerleading for art and music. Moved from the popular lunch table to the alternative table.
Deep conversations replaced the surface level gossip. Punk rock had taken over my playlist and wardrobe. Instead of escaping into a daydream, I was creating the reality I wanted.
Until my reality was shuttered by words scribbled on a binder.
We were probably chatting about the latest Buffy episode when panic reached our lunch table. Harry’s friends reached our table and started shouting all at once.
“Michelle, you have to come see… Harry wrote “Kill Michelle” all over his binder and he has a hit list! Your name is at the top!”
Silence hit the lunch table as everyone looked at me. I was in utter shock.
Time froze… then sped up.
I needed to see this for myself. I ran to where Harry was playing fuzzball and stole his binder.
Scribbled on his army green zipper binder were the words ‘Kill Michelle’ hundreds of times.
The next series of events are blurry, but I clearly remember:
Starring Harry in the eyes, asking “WHY?!?!”
Someone getting a lunch teacher.
Someone scooping the binder from me.
Harry telling me his life hell and that it was all my fault.
Someone took Harry away.
I never saw Harry again.
I was in total shock and completely horrified. But not for the reasons you may think.
It was a lesson in understanding perspectives. I thought my teasing was all in good fun, while he felt he was being tortured. What I won’t ever know is if in the beginning Harry played along with me…
From what Harry said before he was taken away and the gossip mill, I discovered that Harry didn’t like the teasing. When he huffed at me, he really was mad. We were NOT friends. He considered me one of his bullies.
AND… he blamed me for his other bullies. They called him Harry, which had escalated from endearing to cruelty. While the little tickles turned into slaps, pushes, or hits.
Whether I was too blind to see it, or people waited for my back to be turned, my endearing playfulness and good intentions were transformed into torture. Like the Good Place, “Humans think they’re making one small choice, when actually they’re making hundreds of unseen micro decisions that create negative points.”
How had I been so blind? About everything! Our friendship, how he felt, what other kids were doing… well because I was a kid myself.
How had the adults been so blind? Oh yeah, hazing was normalized.
The adults failed to help Harry from being tortured but they also failed me.
Neither the school officials nor counselor called me into their office, discussed with me what happened, or asked me how I was feeling. *shrugs* I was used to adults ignoring me.
To this day, I don’t know if my mother knew I was at the top of a School Shooting Hit list, as she also never spoke to me about it.
This took place in 99-00 school year (after the Columbine Shooting). Lucky for us there wasn’t a school shooting. Unlucky for us the adults didn’t know how to handle it. School shootings were just starting.
Hard Wiring My Subconscious
School just went on business as usual just without Harry, so that’s what I did. We finished school that day and I went to school the following day.
I learned many hard lessons in the days that followed. One being the power of being seen and popular. When your popular people are going to copy you. Eyes were me, watching my actions but not understanding my intentions. Plus, they saw what I hadn’t. It bothered Harry, and they exploited that.
Another was that we weren’t going to be able to have a reconciliation. He wasn’t coming back to school and social media didn’t exist yet. I couldn’t fix anything for him, but I knew I had to do something, after all it was my fault.
I hated knowing that a kind, funny, smart, sweet, kid, was tortured because of me. He never deserved it, and I wanted to be punished for that. No adults were doing it, so someone had too.
I took on all of Harry’s feelings and held them. Afterall, I was an empath I SHOULD have known better.
I was tortured by my family, church, and mother. I SHOULD have seen the torture that was happening to him.
My brothers pissed me off when they trickled and teased me. I SHOULD have known that it would have done the same to Harry.
Subconsciously I internalized the inability to have reconciliation, the guilt that I should have known better, and the need to be punished because I was a BAD person. Holding onto all it in hopes it’d prevent me from making the same mistakes again.
I shoved my personal emotions and feelings about the experience so far down that I “didn’t” have any pretended I didn’t.
My emotions or feeling didn’t matter, only Harry’s. Afterall, it couldn’t have been that big of a deal. No one talked to me about it. He never did it. No one got hurt. For all I know he’s alive and well. So, it shouldn’t have been a traumatic experience. Right?!?!
Yet, I continued to punish myself, which created a series of more troubles the following year.
I’d stopped floating from group to group. I stopped hanging out with anyone that wasn’t a ‘close friend’, and I became invisible to everyone else. Using an invisibility cloak, if you will… I wrapped that cloak around me tight, then forgot it there.
I started practicing self-harm, attempted suicide a few times, and started taking over the counter uppers (like caffeine pills).
Eventually, I had so many other issues unfolding that I forgot about Harry altogether. *cringe* Like being shipped to Idaho for being a delinquent…maybe it was all connected.
Harry Still Haunted Me
Over the decades Harry has randomly appeared to me. Just a ghost of Punishment Past…
Through my healing journey, I’ve atoned for my part in Harry’s story. I released the emotions of shame, pain, and guilt I was holding for Harry.
I became the adult that my inner child needed, finally telling that child it wasn’t solely their fault. That there were important lessons to be learned but punishment wasn’t one of them.
Yet, I couldn’t shake the ghost.
When the ghost appeared, I’d go online to see if I could find him but had zero luck in finding him. Then I switched from trying to physically find him to spiritually finding him. I sent prayers, blessings, and well-wishes to where Harry may be.
That was until one today, as I drove past random school. The ghost of Harry appeared again. I’d had it.
I had punished myself for the years (three times as long as I tortured him) and I’d done years of atonement.
“What else can I do? What more does he want from me? Haven’t I done enough?” I screamed in frustration.
I heard this response, “You’re not asking the right question.”
WTF? What other questions are there? Then it hit me, “What do I need to learn from this that I haven’t yet?”
My awareness was brought to what I had been thinking before Harry floated in. I’d been wondering why I was having such a hard time getting my business going. Why I was so forgettable to clients and why no one seemed to remember that they wanted to see. I knew I had the tools and wisdom that people were looking for, but I was invisible.
Like a lightning bolt, it hit me in the temple. Harry was coming in to remind me about the invisibility cloak.
Slowly… I began to take the invisibility cloak off. BUT DAMN that thing is hard to see.
As it turns out the invisibility cloak not only hid me from being seen, but it also hid me from seeing myself (my trauma):
The added abandonment from adults.
Regardless of the event, everything is always business as usual.
My trauma/feelings/emotions don’t count.
Being popular/seen means people will transform my good intentions into something dark.
I pay the price when others don’t understand me.
I’m a bully, pretending to be a good person.
I’m solely responsible if I don’t realize someone is hurting.
I can’t trust that any of my relationships are real… That it’s a one-way street, me liking/loving them. While others only tolerate me, or they hate me, and I can’t see it.
Though my conscious adults mind knows better, my subconscious mind and wounded inner child is holding a tight grip on these traumas. Keeping us “safe” by conditioning us to be insecure and skeptical.
Honestly, I’m at a loss of how to rewire my subconscious from these conditionings, but I’m starting by sitting in the awareness it’s there. Awareness is half the battle.
It’s been very eye opening to retell this story. It highlighted the series of unfortunate events that have been very blurry, and I don’t know what else I’ll unfold.
I know telling this story out loud is a huge step to recovery and healing. Something that I was too ashamed of to do before. I’ve finally accepted what happened, from all perspectives.
I’ll always wonder what unfolded for Harry, (I really hope things worked out for his highest good). BUT I am not responsible for what became of him nor was Harry responsible for what became of me.
Understand that even if we’re highly influenced by others, we are all responsible for the actions we take. May our actions always be for the highest good.
As the healing unfolds, I will share more.
If you want to share some joy with me… a cup of tea always brings a smile to my face. - thank you!
