Growing up, I never played contact sports, unless you count being beat up by the bullies after school. I hoped it would stop by the time I got to High School, but it didn’t. It actually got worse because the bullying happened before, during, and after school. I think some of those guys lettered in… bullying me. Maybe college would be better, and it was, after my first semester.

My roommate freshman year was a guy I met at orientation. He seemed like a nice guy, until you take him away from his mother, and add a bunch of other guys who are experiencing all kinds of freedom for the first time. Add to that the bully down the hall, let’s call him Brad (because I went to Bradley University), and my first semester went from Brad to worse in a hurry. They’d hide my shoes, take my food, and verbally harass me on a regular basis. I actually participated in the very first “Ice Bucket Challenge” when Brad took a 50 gallon restroom garbage can filled with ice, and poured it over me from the next stall while I was in the shower.

All of this abuse continued for almost an entire semester. The straw that broke the camel’s back (ok, it didn’t break the camel’s back. It actually broke my collar bone, fractured my shoulder blade, and dislocated my shoulder) was about a week before finals. I had returned from being out with some friends, and a bunch of guys from my floor were socializing in the room next door with the door wide open. I leaned in just to say hi. The shirt I was wearing had two buzzards on it, and one is saying to the other, “Patience my butt (edited to be family friendly), I’m going to kill something – The Boss”.

No, this was not a gift from Bruce Springsteen. It was actually an old shirt that my Dad didn’t wear anymore, so he gave it to me. I’m sharing the following conversation to show you how stupidly out of hand things can get in a very short time.

BRAD: “Hey, Jim. You think you’re all cool wearing that shirt?” (laughing) “The Boss – my butt!” (again edited to be family friendly)

ME: “Well, at least I don’t think I’m the Tae Kwon Do king.”

Seriously, that’s exactly what I said. Brad, my roommate, and some other guys on our floor were taking a weekly Tae Kwon Do class, and constantly bragging about what they could do. On that particular evening, Brad had … bratttude – that’s Brad with some freedom induced attitude. After my comment, I silently walked away. As I’m putting my key in my door, Brad comes up behind me, grabs me, picks me up, and throws me against the brick wall across from my door. As I’m heading for the wall, I turn as not to hit it face first (hey, I may face plant on the pavement, but not brick walls… see blogs 2 and 3 of this series for those references). Instead, I hit it with my left shoulder.

As I slid painfully to a sitting position against the wall, Brad walked away cursing and colorfully explaining what he thought of me. The other guys … just laughed. To this day, I am thankful for two guys on that dorm floor who kept kind of quiet, but always treated me well. Nick and Mike – and to this day, they are the only two people from college that I stayed friends with all four years, and still talk to today.

Hearing the commotion, Nick came down the hall. Seeing me on the floor, he asked about what happened and how I was feeling. Unable to move my left arm, he offered to drive me to the hospital. He spent hours there with me, and after exams and bandaging, we headed back to campus. The next day, I had a meeting with the Assistant Dean of Students to report what had happened. He made sure I was moved to a different floor, and then he presented me with two options:
1=Have Brad permanently expelled.
OR
2=Issue a restraining order against Brad, and if it were violated, he would be permanently expelled.

Option 1 seemed a little too drastic, and I didn’t want to ruin his college career over one bad decision. Besides if one comment made him that violently angry, how would he handle being expelled? After careful consideration, I selected option 2. That was really the safer option for me because he couldn’t bother me anymore, at least not for the remainder of our four years at college.

Fast forward to second semester senior year. I was walking through the social center, and I see Brad walking up to me. He stops in front of me, and extends his hand to shake mine. As I hesitantly extend my hand he says, “Jim, I just want to thank you for not having me expelled freshman year. I’ve done pretty well. I have a good job lined up, and … well… thanks for what you did”.

I shook his hand, told him I was happy for him, and walked away. What I didn’t tell him was that I was thankful for what he did. Not necessarily for the trip to the hospital, but for helping me to learn Tae Kwon Do. During freshman year, after my shoulder healed, I enrolled in that Tae Kwon Do class because I wanted to learn to defend myself with something other than my mouth – because that hadn’t worked out so well over the years. I’ve only had to use what I’ve learned twice during college, and not again since. Both times I walked away unharmed.

When I think of control, I think of the martial arts. There is such a balance between power and restraint when practicing each technique. Have you heard the term “pulling punches”? This is where you exert all of your energy to throw the punch, yet you stop just short of your target or short enough to only tap it.

In life, we need to balance our communication in the same way. Our words have power, yet we must use them with restraint. While we always want to be completely honest, sometimes we need to do it gently. There will be times when someone is rude to you, or doesn’t treat you well. In those moments, I try to act rather than to react. In other words, I strive to make a decision about how to handle a situation with self-control, rather than allowing myself to get out of control. I’m working on it, but I’m not sure any of us ever masters the art of communication.

Tae Kwon Do translates to “The way of the hand and foot”. I need to make sure I use enough self-control to put my HAND over my mouth – before I put my FOOT in it. While that’s not the exact intent of the translation, it works for me. Sometimes we need to “pull” our verbal punches. We can be honest without being rude. How are you doing with your verbal communication? Grasshopper, maybe it’s time to balance your verbal control through my interpretation of Tae Kwon Do.