In keeping with the name I chose for my blog, and the theme of my book, my very first comment, in my very first blog post ever, is this: words have wings. They fly out of a person's mouth, or off a page. Some fly with wings that don't do very much, like those on a cockroach, Others soar, like the wings of an eagle. My point? We need to pay attention to them, both as a speaker and as a listener—especially when a mental health condition is involved.
I was at a book fair yesterday selling my book, sharing the table with another writer. Foot traffic trickled giving us ample time for conversation. He spoke by the dictionary—every word carefully chosen, and deliberate. I spoke by the thesaurus—my words fit with common usage. Talking to him took a lot of work. He constantly challenged my meaning based on the words I used. The day was an excellent reminder of the power of words. In my book, I wish you'd tell me, I talk about "critical moments"—when what is said creates a positive or negative memory that lasts a lifetime. we may or may not know when the critical moment has arrived. If there are regrets, the result can often be fixed, but don't count on it.
Here's an excerpt from the Chapter titled, "You Don't Say".
"Sometimes you have time to carefully plan what you're going to say ahead of time. For instance, terminating an employee, asking for a date, or preparing to say "no" to a request. More often, however, you have no idea you've created a critical moment because we speak as thoughts enter our minds. We don't pass our words through a filter, resulting in comments that don't emerge in graceful, constructive, ways. When you see that something you said came out wrong, a well-delevered apology has a good chance of fixing things.
"Unfortunately, when talking to someone with a mood disorder, what you say, and how you say it, has a greater chance of becoming a critical moment—even a pivotal event. Without intending to, your words can trigger rage, violence, complete withdrawal, or self-harm. They can leave a permanent scar on trust, confidence, self-esteem, and love.
"One Christmas, when I was nine years old, I was excited to wear a full-length skirt for the first time. It was a symbol that I had passed from being a little girl to being a "young lady." I wore it proudly, but when my wealthy, worldly socialite grandmother saw me, she said, "I wish there was something nice I could say about the way you look." Granted, my mother had poor taste in fashion. True, the skirt she made lacked style in every possible way—a straight-cut skirt of red, white, and blue checked wool, gathered at the top with an elastic waistband. It wasn't going to be the first time my mother dressed me like a cloth-covered toilet paper tube. My grandmother's opinion represented the upper class. I wanted to fit in; she might even have meant it light-heartedly. Situations like that are the reason little white lies are sometimes a better choice.
"My husband of twenty years was a good and loving man. Unfortunately, he was prone to unvarnished honesty. He didn't understand emotions very well. The day before our impromptu wedding—before the planned one, he said the tunic I made for the occasion, "Looks like a shower curtain."
"Over the next two years, I lost fifty pounds dropping down to a size ten. When I asked what he thought of my figure, his response was pivotal to my confidence in our relationship. He wasn't trying to be hurtful when he said, "I like your figure, it's what's hanging off of it that I don't like."
"Neither my husband nor my grandmother recognized they had created a critical moment. They had no idea their remarks would influence my self-esteem throughout my life. My husband and grandmother were important people in my life. I became obsessed with looking "beautiful" and "well put together." For most of my life, I couldn't look at myself in the morrow without feeling less attractive. Words spoken by the important people in our lives shape us as rivers shape mountains."
Three years ago, when I was in a very fragile place, my daughter triggered a long-standing sensitivity in our relationship and we argued. Unspoken truths flew out of my mouth and we haven't seen or spoken since. I've been ghosted as they say. My efforts to apologize, to reach out in any way are ignored.
When words fly, you don't know how they will land.
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