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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All feelings are important. What’s also important is the story - the ‘why’ - we put to those feelings. 

When our children are distressed, anxious, in fight or flight, we’ll feel it. We’re meant to. It’s one of the ways we keep them safe. Our brains tell us they’re in danger and our bodies organise to fight for them or flee with them.

When there is an actual threat, this is a perfect response. But when the anxiety is in response to something important, brave, new, hard, that instinct to fight for them or flee with them might not be so helpful.

When you can, take a moment to be clear about the ‘why’. Are they in danger or

Ask, ‘Do I feel like this because they’re in danger, or because they’re doing something hard, brave, new, important?’ 

‘Is this a time for me to keep them safe (fight for them or flee with them) or is this a time for me to help them be brave?’

‘What am I protecting them from -  danger or an opportunity to show them they can do hard things?’

Then make space for ‘and’, ‘I want to protect them AND they are safe.’

‘I want to protect them from anxiety AND anxiety is unavoidable - I can take care of them through it.’

‘This is so hard AND they can do hard things. So can I.’

Sometimes you’ll need to protect them, and sometimes you need to show them how much you believe in them. Anxiety can make it hard to tell the difference, which is why they need us.♥️
The only way through anxiety is straight through the middle. This is because the part of the brain responsible for anxiety - the amygdala - is one of the most primitive parts of the brain, and it only learns through experience.

The goal is for kids to recognise that they can feel anxious and do brave. They don't have to wait for their anxiety to disappear, and they don't need to disappear themselves, or avoid the things that matter to them, in order to feel safe. 

There is always going to be anxiety. Think about the last time you did something brave, or hard, or new, or something that was important to you. How did you feel just before it? Maybe stressed? Nervous? Terrified? Overwhelmed? All of these are different words for the experience of anxiety. Most likely you didn't avoid those things. Most likely, you moved with the anxiety towards those brave, hard, things.

This is what courage feels like. It feels trembly, and uncertain, and small. Courage isn't about outcome. It's about process. It's about handling the discomfort of anxiety enough as we move towards the wanted thing. It's about moving our feet forward while everything inside is trembling. 

To support them through anxiety, Honour the feeling, and make space for the brave. 'I know how big this is for you, and I know you can do this. I'm here for you. We'll do this together.' 

We want our kiddos to know that anxiety doesn't mean there is something wrong with them, or that something bad is about to happen - even though it will feel that way. 

Most often, anxiety is a sign that they are about to do something brave or important. With the amygdala being the ancient little pony that it is, it won't hear us when we tell our kiddos that they can do hard things. We need to show them. 

The 'showing' doesn't have to happen all at once. We can do it little by little - like getting into cold water, one little step at a time, until the amygdala feels safe. 

It doesn't matter how long this takes, or how small the steps are. What matters is that they feel supported and cared for as they take the steps, and that the steps are forward.❤️
So often the responses to school anxiety will actually make anxiety worse. These responses are well intended and come from a place of love, but they can backfire. 

This is because the undercurrent of school anxiety is a lack of will or the wish to be at school. It’s a lack of felt safety.

These kids want to be at school, but their brains and bodies are screaming at them that it isn’t safe there. This doesn’t mean they aren’t safe. It means they don’t feel safe enough. 

As loving parents, the drive to keep our kids safe is everything. But being safe and feeling safe are different.

As long as school is safe, the work lies in supporting kids to feel this. This is done by building physical and relational safety where we can.

Then - and this is so important - we have to show them. If we wait for them to ‘not feel anxious’, we’ll be waiting forever.

The part of the brain responsible for anxiety - the amygdala - doesn’t respond to words or logic. This means the key to building their capacity to handle anxiety isn’t to avoid anxiety - because full living will always come with anxiety (doing new things, doing things that matter, meeting new people, job interviews, exams). The key is to show them they can ‘move with’ anxiety - they can feel anxiety and do brave. Kids with anxiety are actually doing this every day.

Of course if school is actually unsafe (ongoing lack of intent from the school to work towards relational safety, bullying that isn’t being addressed) then avoidance of that particular school might be necessary.

For resources to support you wish this, I wrote ‘Hey Warrior’ and the new ‘Hey Warrior Workbook’ to help kids feel braver when they feel anxious. 

And if you live in New Zealand, I’ll be presenting full day workshops for anyone who lives with or works with kids on the topic of anxiety driven school ‘avoidance’. For more details see the in the link in the bio.♥️
We don’t need to protect kids from the discomfort of anxiety.

We’ll want to, but as long as they’re safe (including in their bodies with sensory and physiological needs met), we don’t need to - any more than we need to protect them from the discomfort of seatbelts, bike helmets, boundaries, brushing their teeth.

Courage isn’t an absence of anxiety. It’s the anxiety that makes something brave. Courage is about handling the discomfort of anxiety.

When we hold them back from anxiety, we hold them back - from growth, from discovery, and from building their bravery muscles.

The distress and discomfort that come with anxiety won’t hurt them. What hurts them is the same thing that hurts all of us - feeling alone in distress. So this is what we will protect them from - not the anxiety, but feeling alone in it.

To do this, speak to the anxiety AND the courage. 

This will also help them feel safer with their anxiety. It puts a story of brave to it rather than a story of deficiency (‘I feel like this because there’s something wrong with me,’) or a story of disaster (‘I feel like this because something bad is about to happen.’).

Normalise, see them, and let them feel you with them. This might sound something like:

‘This feels big doesn’t it. Of course you feel anxious. You’re doing something big/ brave/ important, and that’s how brave feels. It feels scary, stressful, big. It feels like anxiety. It feels like you feel right now. I know you can handle this. We’ll handle it together.’

It doesn’t matter how well they handle it and it doesn’t matter how big the brave thing is. The edges are where the edges are, and anxiety means they are expanding those edges.

We don’t get strong by lifting toothpicks. We get strong by lifting as much as we can, and then a little bit more for a little bit longer. And we do this again and again, until that feels okay. Then we go a little bit further. Brave builds the same way - one brave step after another.

It doesn’t matter how long it takes and it doesn’t matter how big the steps are. If they’ve handled the discomfort of anxiety for a teeny while today, then they’ve been brave today. And tomorrow we’ll go again again.♥️

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