Words are powerful. We even have words to dismiss the power of words (“sticks and stones may break my bones but names can never hurt me” is a good example). Words can hurt. Words, in my experience, can be and often are used in ways that amount to abuse, even torture – ‘water-boarding the mind’. I can give examples, from my own experiences in life. How about these:
- You wretched, worthless child – god damn it, can’t you do anything right?
- F*ck, you’re stupid.
- You’re a girl, you only have to be good at cooking and blowjobs.
- I brought you into this world, I can take you out!
- No one will ever love you like I do.
- You can not survive without me.
- You owe everything to me.
- Without me you are nothing.
- Well, some people have talent, I guess you have to do the best you can without it.
Words used to imply the threat of violence in the face of non-compliance…words used to punish, to damage, to confuse… we use words to communicate, but we also use words to control, and hurt each other. Words seem powerful indeed; they can deliver lasting damage without contact of any kind. And the more we hear the same words, the more believable the words seem to be. Eventually, slogans, phrases, ideas, even insults become internalized and part of ‘who we are’. Scary.
I know I’ve lashed out at people using words – mostly operating on a very harmful assumption that although hitting people is not ok, hurting them with words isn’t ‘violent’. Oh, but isn’t it? Is the emotional pain we deal with as a byproduct of unhealthy relationships any less painful than any other sort of pain we feel? Is it easier or more difficult to heal? Something to think about… treating people well, by using language in an honest way, without the intent or will to cause harm, damage, punish, or control doesn’t cost anything, and immediately makes the world a better place for everyone.
Pursuing mindfulness is taking me some very interesting places as a thinking being.
A question for Wednesday – if you could choose a life free of guilt, worry, or resentment, would you?
I find myself inclined to immediately answer ‘yes!’ I admit, however, I have made a lot of choices that brought one or more of those my way pretty reliably. Worry and guilt seem easiest to dispense with, from my perspective. Worry is about something that hasn’t, and may not, happen. Guilt is about something already in the past – and unnecessary when I am accountable for my actions, and willing to take ownership for mistakes. The resentment piece was where I started this morning – because I was very aware that I had none in that moment, and then… uncomfortably self-conscious that that seemed noteworthy! I found myself understanding how mindfulness could ease worry or guilt, and seriously puzzled by resentment in general. Should resentment even exist if I ‘take care of me’? If I live honestly with my partners, communicating my needs clearly, and taking time to understand theirs? I have reached levels of resentment in prior relationships that aren’t even describable in a rational framework – because it makes no sense to have gotten to that point! Good choices, honest choices, and treating myself well – and compassionately – wouldn’t leave room for resentment, would it? Is there any moment of resentment that isn’t based on my own choices? Is resentment always self-inflicted? I have no answers, just something I plan to think about more. “Treating myself well” is beginning to look like a vista, not a challenge… and thinking more constructively about some things is having results I didn’t expect. Good ones. Artistic ones. Emotional ones.
Yesterday was a good day. The evening was hardly marred by feeling ill and being in physical pain; I stayed in-the-moment with that, which was a very new experience and quite different. I woke feeling better this morning. Today seems like another good day… how much of this is me and how much is something other than me? Do I have so much control over my experience, in fact, that good days come so easily when I don’t expect bad ones? More to think about… but for now, mindfully forward into Wednesday’s work.


I’ve been accused (not necessarily in error) of attacking with my voice. Considering the source, it is possible she just didn’t like me being loud enough for my kids to hear two rooms away. Or possibly it’s because when my boys were younger, I expressed my opinion on using violence to settle disagreements in a manner that might be termed “laying down the law.” My tone left no room for discussion about what I presented as superior options. I’ve been ever cautious about the lasting damage that words can do, and even when expressing my contempt for certain choices I was careful to avoid the phrases I knew tear at one’s spirit and self-esteem.
From my list to yours:
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I need you like I need a hole in the head.”
If I could do away with worry, guilt, or resentment — magically — I would keep worry and guilt.
Unless unchecked by reason, worry helps us influence the future. If I’m worried about my car breaking down, I have incentive to keep up with maintenance. If I’m worried about my friends’ feelings, I will act more compassionately toward them. Worry can interfere with pursuing happiness, if our worries are out of proportion with actual risk.
Guilt (in healthy doses) inspires us to make amends. When we err, shame makes us try to hide it (shame is increased by those tearing down words). Guilt drives us to fix it. But one of the things that can happen in an unhealthy relationship is one party burdening the other with the whole of guilt that should be shared — in order to control, or because of shame, or for some other reason. Nevertheless, I would rather keep guilt and learn to keep guilt healthy than dispense with it.
Resentment, on the other hand…. Resentment I would eliminate. I name resentment as one of the two relationship-killers (the other is deception). Resentment festers until I feel nothing left of the affection I once held. Resentment grows and infects and does nothing constructive for me or for my loved ones. Even if I share the reason for my resentment, unless the other person acts on that information whether by apology or modified by behavior, nothing is resolved. Any joy I once had in doing kindness is transformed by resentment into the perception of an onerous burden of which I would be well rid.
I’ve gotten better at recognizing the seed of resentment, and at sharing with my loved ones what I need so that seed dies without sprouting.