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Sticks and Stones and Spoken: The Power of a Verbal Swipe

We are born the purest, most perfect version of ourselves, complete with a protective coating to shield that newborn flawlessness from a world and people that are often less so.

Of course we will grow faster, smarter, fitter, stronger, more graceful, more assertive, more likeable, but at birth we are completely unsullied by the judgements, clamour and manipulations of others, or ourselves.

If we grow up with reasonably adept people around us this protective coating will be reinforced every time they praise, show love or find a way to make us feel important.

Its function is critical – it repels the judgements and attempted shaming that will inevitably come our way, generally by those whose protective coating is wafer thin and tearing by the day.

Over time the job of reinforcing this coating moves away from our family and over to us. Hopefully by now, coating reasonably intact, we are in prime position to find the things we are good at and the people we radiate in front of.

The best view of ourselves is the one through the eyes of the people who love us. The closer our opinion of ourselves is to this, the more confident and world-ready we will be.

Confidence is a remarkable thing – with enough of it, the arrows shot by others are more likely to miss.

The more somebody is trusted, the closer that person is brought to our protective coating. Sometimes they are allowed to lean up against it. Sometimes they’re allowed to touch. Sometimes we let them behind it, into our core. We let them see the mess and the beauty that is us.

But what happens when one of those people in the protective fold turns nasty?

There’s an old adage, ‘Sticks and stones won’t break my bones but calling names won’t hurt me.’ Yes, perhaps, if it’s from the stranger who considers it his civic duty to point out that you have 13 items at the 12 items or less register, and shares his bristly opinion that you’re ‘useless’ or (gasp) a dumbass.

But if it is from one of the precious few allowed to sit against your core the pain of a harsh verbal blow can be breathtaking.

Things occasionally said in spite are a fact of life. But said over and over again, and they become a fact of downfall – downfall of a relationship, a friendship, a family, a marriage, a person.

In every relationship there are a set of rules. Often these rules are unspoken. Sometimes they are assumed. Sometimes neither party even knows they are there until they are broken.

Verbal attacks from people we hold close damage the coating around each of us. Consider the crass (though fiercely illustrative) frog in boiling water metaphor – put a frog in a pot of boiling water and it jumps out straight away, but put it in a pot and bring it slowly to the boil and the frog will never know what’s happening until it’s too late.

The first personal attack may be repaired quickly enough with a kiss and a heartfelt, ‘I’m sorry’, but make no mistake, look closely enough and there will be a small, perhaps almost unnoticeable dent in the protective coating.

The problem comes with the second, third, fourth and so on. With every nasty verbal assault another dent is made in the sacred protective armour. The closer the person the more severe the damage.

With every personal attack our protective coating is compromised a little bit more. Eventually it tears.

The problem? Once torn, there is a weak point in the very armour that is there to protect us from the world and, dare I say, ourselves. Once that hole is there it is stretched and manipulated with increasing ease.

The things we tell ourselves when we are at a low – ‘I’m not clever enough/capable enough/attractive enough/creative enough/successful enough/whatever enough – now have a way straight through to our core. Once in, the hole is chewed from the inside out as well as from the outside in. The gatekeeper is gone.

There comes a point, however strong we are, that we start little by little to wonder if there isn’t at least a shred of truth in the nastiness. We look for data to prove it isn’t. Sometimes the data is there and sometimes it isn’t, because however rich our strengths, we all have our chinks.

We are all human. We all have a history and often the richer and more varied the history, the more we have fallen along the way. We can look at these falls in one of two ways – an opportunity or evidence of our unworthiness.

Even if the data is there, sometimes it’s ambiguous. When the protective coating is at it’s strongest the ambiguous is more likely to be read as positive. When there is damage, as negative.

In the context of an intimate relationship perhaps you will come back together fairly quickly. There will be an apology, ‘You know I didn’t mean it right?’, an acceptance and you’ll find your way back on track. 

Until the day you don’t.

Until the day that everything said in anger curls itself around you. The nastiness, criticism and judgement which has been scraping at that coating bit by bit, wears it down to threadbare and suddenly, there is a clear passage straight through. At this point, there is nothing stopping the ugly from getting in.

This is the point in relationships where there is often a withdrawal – of love, of gratitude, of appreciation – a little at first but the capacity for this to spiral into complete erosion is very real. It is very hard to love somebody and communicate gratitude when your own feeling of self-worth is compromised.

A verbal blow can be astoundingly damaging when thrown by those we hold close. It breaks through our protective skin, leading us eventually to wonder if perhaps, even just a little, the message is correct.

Psychologists often say that nobody can make us feel – upset/ angry/ stupid/ anything we don’t want to feel. True to a point, but the very nature of an intimate relationship means that we drop our guard. We let another person in to the sometimes messy, sometimes beautiful, sometimes crazy realm that is us.

It is a realm that needs to be treated with tenderness and grace because it is from here that our self-doubts are born. Whether those self-doubts are left to fend for themselves or handraised through to a devastating maturity is influenced by those we choose to love, and who claim to love us.

A verbal blow can be every bit as devastating as a physical one. No-one can ever know how thin somebody’s protective armour is before a verbal punch is thrown. Perhaps it will barely make a dint. And perhaps it will break right through.

There is a richness unlike any other that comes from lifting our guard and letting another person close. It’s critical that we are discerning about who we choose to let close, and that we fight with warrior daring to protect not only our own protective coating but that of those we love.

2 Comments

Pammy

When I read this article, I think about shaming. How often is that discussed when your interactive with someone close to you? I was shamed by a family member so I wouldn’t address some financial issues with a few family members. Response I received was “forgive” and “pray” but that doesn’t make equal when they don’t want to pay you back. Bottom line, you been stiffed and they sliver away avoiding responsibility. I think you should do an article on someone “shaming” you.

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Dave

So well written! This rings true for me in my present relationship. I feel she and I are at the edge of an abyss – an abyss that I used to have the strength to keep us from falling into. But I feel I am at a point now where the accumulated damage done has forever changed me. As much as I love her, I don’t look at her the same way. My heart has closed and I don’t think it will open for her. I know it’s not all her fault; I didn’t protect my own protective coating because without knowing it I wanted to be her knight in shining armour, rescuing her from her own demons. Lesson learned – the only person I can truly help and save is myself.

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Pam

I think that’s easier said than done sometimes. k Protecting yourself and knowing who you can trust to be that close to you, it’s tough. Especially with someone who is just waiting for that to happen. You trust them just that bit with some of yourself and when you least expect it, whammo, you are on the ground. How can you learn to truly judge people, and when to trust them with that part of you. I’ve been wrong about that a lot in my life and I wonder if it’s because just once I’d like to be right? I don’t know, it’s one of those things I guess.

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Their calm and courage starts with ours.

This doesn’t mean we have to feel calm or brave. The truth is that when a young person is anxious, angry, or overwhelmed, we probably won’t feel calm or brave.

Where you can, tap into that part of you that knows they are safe enough and that they are capable of being brave enough. Then breathe. 

Breathing calms our nervous system so theirs can settle alongside. 

This is co-regulation. It lets them borrow our calm when theirs is feeling out of reach for a while. Breathe and be with.

This is how calm is caught.

Now for the brave: Rather than avoiding the brave, important, growthful things they need to do, as long as they are safe, comfort them through it.

This takes courage. Of course you’ll want to protect them from anything that feels tough or uncomfortable, but as long as they are safe, we don’t need to.

This is how we give them the experience they need to trust their capacity to do hard things, even when they are anxious.

This is how we build their brave - gently, lovingly, one tiny brave step after another. 

Courage isn’t about being fearless - but about trusting they can do hard things when they feel anxious about it. This will take time and lots of experience. So first, we support them through the experience of anxiety by leading, calmly, bravely through the storm.

Because courage isn’t the absence of anxiety.

It’s moving forward, with support, until confidence catches up.♥️
‘Making sure they aren’t alone in it’ means making sure we, or another adult, helps them feel seen, safe, and cared as they move towards the brave, meaningful, growthful thing.❤️
Children will look to their closest adult - a parent, a teacher, a grandparent, an aunt, an uncle - for signs of safety and signs of danger.

What the parent believes, the child will follow, for better or worse.

Anxiety doesn’t mean they aren’t safe or capable. It means they don’t feel safe or capable enough yet.

As long as they are safe, this is where they need to borrow our calm and certainty until they can find their own. 

The questions to ask are, ‘Do I believe they are safe and cared for here?’ ‘Do I believe they are capable?’

It’s okay if your answer is no to either of these. We aren’t meant to feel safe handing our kiddos over to every situation or to any adult.

But if the answer is no, that’s where the work is.

What do you need to know they are safe and cared for? What changes need to be made? What can help you feel more certain? Is their discomfort from something unsafe or from something growthful? What needs to happen to know they are capable of this?

This can be so tricky for parents as it isn’t always clear. Are they anxious because this is new or because it’s unsafe?

As long as they are relationally safe (or have an adult working towards this) and their bodies feel safe, the work is to believe in them enough for them to believe it too - to handle our very understandable distress at their distress, make space for their distress, and show them we believe in them by what we do next: support avoidance or brave behaviour.

As long as they are safe, we don’t need to get rid of their anxiety or big feelings. Lovingly make space for those feelings AND brave behaviour. They can feel anxious and do brave. 

‘I know this feels big. Bring all your feelings to me. I can look after you through all of it. And yes, this is happening. I know you can do this. We’ll do it together.’

But we have to be kind and patient with ourselves too. The same instinct that makes you a wonderful parent - the attachment instinct - might send your ‘they’re not safe’ radar into overdrive. 

Talk to their adults at school, talk to them, get the info you need to feel certain enough, and trust they are safe, and capable enough, even when anxiety (theirs and yours) is saying no.❤️
Anxiety in kids is tough for everyone - kids and the adults who care about them.

It’s awful for them and confusing for us. Do we move them forward? Hold them back? Is this growing them? Hurting them?

As long as they are safe - as long as they feel cared for through it and their bodies feel okay - anxiety doesn’t mean something is wrong. 
It also doesn’t mean they aren’t capable.

It means there is a gap: ‘I want to, but I don’t know that I’ll be okay.’

As long as they are safe, they don’t need to avoid the situation. They need to keep going, with support, so they can gather the evidence they need. This might take time and lots of experiences.

The brain will always abandon the ‘I want to,’ in any situation that doesn’t have enough evidence - yet - that they’re safe.

Here’s the problem. If we support avoidance of safe situations, the brain doesn’t get the experience it needs to know the difference between hard, growthful things (like school, exams, driving tests, setting boundaries, job interviews, new friendships) and dangerous things. 

It takes time and lots of experience to be able to handle the discomfort of anxiety - and all hard, important, growthful things will come with anxiety.

The work for us isn’t to hold them back from safe situations (even though we’ll want to) but to help them feel supported through the anxiety.

This is part of helping them gather the evidence their brains and bodies need to know they can feel safe and do hard things, even when they are anxious.

Think of the space between comfortable (before the growthful thing) and ‘I’ve done the important, growthful thing,’ as ‘the brave space’. 

But it never feels brave. It feels like anxious, nervous, stressed, scared, awkward, clumsy. It’s all brave - because that’s what anxiety is. It’s handling the discomfort of the brave space while they inch toward the important thing.

Any experience in the brave space matters. Even if it’s just little steps at a time. Why? Because this is where they learn that they don’t need to be scared of anxiety when they’re heading towards something important. As long as they are safe, the anxiety of the brave space won’t hurt them. It will grow them.❤️
In the first few days or weeks of school, feelings might get big. This might happen before school (the anticipation) or after school (when their nervous systems reach capacity).

As long as they are safe (relationally, physiologically) their anxiety is normal and understandable and we don’t need to ‘fix’ it or rush them through it. 

They’re doing something big, something brave. Their brains and bodies will be searching for the familiar in the unfamiliar. They’re getting to know new routines, spaces, people. It’s a lot! Feeling safe in that might take time. But feeling safe and being safe are different. 

We don’t need to stop their anxiety or rush them through it. Our work is to help them move with it. Because when they feel anxious, and get safely through the other side of that anxiety, they learn something so important: they learn they can do hard things - even when they feel like they don’t have what it takes, they can do hard things. We know this about them already, but they’ll need experience in safe, caring environments, little by little, to know this for themselves.

Help them move through it by letting them know that all their feelings are safe with you, that their feelings make sense, and at the end of the day, let those feelings do what they need to. If they need to burst out of them like a little meteor shower, that’s okay. Maybe they’ll need to talk, or not, or cry, or get loud, or play, or be still, or messy for a while. That’s okay. It’s a nervous system at capacity looking for the release valve. It’s not a bad child. It’s never that. 

Tomorrow might be tricker, and the next day trickier, until their brains and bodies get enough experience that this is okay.

As long as they are safe, and they get there, it all counts. It’s all brave. It’s all enough.❤️