I took my post title today from Shakespeare's Hamlet (Act II, Scene II). Hamlet implies that words are of little or no consequence.
I disagree. Words are incredibly powerful; the wrong ones can kill a thousand times over whereas an assassin can only murder a person once. By the same token, the right words can heal, encourage, and build bridges where there once were walls, whereas a material gift will soon be forgotten. I was reminded of the power of words today when I stumbled across a blog post while surfing the Internet. It tells a story which is all too common - and which is pretty powerful (click here to read it).
Some of my most precious memories of growing up are of people who took the time to invest in my life with encouraging words. A schoolteacher who cared enough to give me individual attention. A Sunday School teacher who never spoke a critical word to me - not even once. A professor who recognized my talents and encouraged them. I remember these things because I spent most of my growing-up years constantly feeling like I was a nuisance, a waste of skin, a screw-up.... because of the words I heard from most of the adults and authority figures in my life.
For many years I held onto these poison words and made them my own - I internalized them and held others at bay with my own belief of them. Then when I realized that they were poison, I spent a significant amount of time in victim-land ... thinking that there was no way that these things could be reversed. It took a lot of years for me to understand something crucial about this. While there is no way for anyone in my past to undo the damage he or she has done to me, there is something that I can do.
I can speak words of healing to myself. When I first started doing that, it felt so fake. A large part of me didn't believe what I was telling myself, even though it was true. Over time, though, the good news that I was worth something, that I was loveable, that my contribution was valuable, etc., started to penetrate the shell of words that hardened my own heart against me.
Before I could speak words of healing, encouragement, and restoration to others, I first had to speak them to myself, to forgive myself, to nurture myself. When I did, something else happened that I wasn't quite expecting.
My abuse magnet turned off. Victims of abuse tend to attract more abusers to victimize them, and my life was a prime example. But when I started using kind words on myself, that electric magnet built of all the abuse that I had received - and charged by my own self-talk - lost the current that made it so powerful. Fewer and fewer bullies felt compelled to use me as a target. The charge (so to speak) reversed polarity, and I began to naturally repel those who would have taken advantage of me before, those who would have used me as their whipping boy. This liberated me from relationships that were harming my spirit, and it freed me to be able to offer encouragement, kindness and mercy to those who need to hear it.
And we all need to hear those words.
I disagree. Words are incredibly powerful; the wrong ones can kill a thousand times over whereas an assassin can only murder a person once. By the same token, the right words can heal, encourage, and build bridges where there once were walls, whereas a material gift will soon be forgotten. I was reminded of the power of words today when I stumbled across a blog post while surfing the Internet. It tells a story which is all too common - and which is pretty powerful (click here to read it).
For many years I held onto these poison words and made them my own - I internalized them and held others at bay with my own belief of them. Then when I realized that they were poison, I spent a significant amount of time in victim-land ... thinking that there was no way that these things could be reversed. It took a lot of years for me to understand something crucial about this. While there is no way for anyone in my past to undo the damage he or she has done to me, there is something that I can do.
I can speak words of healing to myself. When I first started doing that, it felt so fake. A large part of me didn't believe what I was telling myself, even though it was true. Over time, though, the good news that I was worth something, that I was loveable, that my contribution was valuable, etc., started to penetrate the shell of words that hardened my own heart against me.
Before I could speak words of healing, encouragement, and restoration to others, I first had to speak them to myself, to forgive myself, to nurture myself. When I did, something else happened that I wasn't quite expecting.
My abuse magnet turned off. Victims of abuse tend to attract more abusers to victimize them, and my life was a prime example. But when I started using kind words on myself, that electric magnet built of all the abuse that I had received - and charged by my own self-talk - lost the current that made it so powerful. Fewer and fewer bullies felt compelled to use me as a target. The charge (so to speak) reversed polarity, and I began to naturally repel those who would have taken advantage of me before, those who would have used me as their whipping boy. This liberated me from relationships that were harming my spirit, and it freed me to be able to offer encouragement, kindness and mercy to those who need to hear it.
And we all need to hear those words.
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