Living Outside The Lines: Sticks And Stones
The “Hair Incident” occurred when I was in 2nd grade. I was carrying my lunch tray across the cafeteria looking for a table when a mean girl in training stopped in front of me and said, “Ha, ha, you’ve got messy hair!”
By, Becky J Miller
According to phrases.org.uk the adage, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me” can be traced back to at least 1862. Used as a stock response to verbal bullying in school playgrounds throughout the English speaking world, it was intended to communicate that true courage consists in doing what is right, despite the jeers and sneers of peers. And while some truth may be found in the proverb, I cannot help but feel the message is incomplete.
Words have an incredible power to either heal or hurt. Harsh, cruel or unkind words spoken, even by someone barely known to you may linger a lifetime. While this may seem silly to some, several incidents occurring during my childhood impact my behavior, even now on the eve of my 50th birthday.
Naturally curly hair is both a blessing and a curse. The wild and crazy tendrils have a nasty habit of refusing to cooperate. Now that I’m older I’ve learned some super secretive methods to tame the savage beast, but when I was younger, the best I could do was plaster down those errant curls with barrettes.
The “Hair Incident” occurred when I was in 2nd grade. I was carrying my lunch tray across the cafeteria looking for a table when a mean girl in training stopped in front of me and said, “Ha, ha, you’ve got messy hair!” Although I cannot recall her name, in my mental video album she had straight, shoulder length brown hair and a mole on her lip. Her words stung so much that I still remember them over forty years later.
Anyone who knows me well will tell you I’m obsessive about my hair. I remember in high school trying to smooth it down with water, or putting my head down during class in an attempt to hide what I considered a bad hair day. Even now I carry an “emergency hair care kit” consisting of bobby pins, a ponytail holder, along with trial sized mousse and hair spray bottles.
Or what about the YMCA art teacher who told my mother she was wasting her money putting me in art classes? I was no more than ten, and while certainly no child prodigy, hearing the teacher say I was hopeless crushed my young spirit. To this day, I won’t even attempt to do anything considered artistic. Why should I? I’m going to suck at it, right?
It is sad that the negative words seem to impact us more deeply than the positive. I’m ashamed to admit, I cannot recall many encouraging words spoken over or to me during my formative years. I’m sure those moments were not completely lacking from my life; I’ve just allowed the destructive ones to take center stage.
I do have many happy memories just no, “you can do this!” type of moments that stand out, until college. And sadly, I was in my 40’s by then. Yes, yes, I know, I was a bit of a late bloomer. My college writing professor gave me such high accolades during my first semester at Texas State University that an activity I merely enjoyed became a passion to be pursued. Occasionally I pull out the folder containing my college essays and reread my professor’s comments simply because, even now his words astound me. He spotted raw talent in me and took the time to inspire and develop it by simply writing encouraging notes on my papers.
Words do hurt, and even in the heat of the moment should be chosen with care. One may speak the truth in love while providing valuable encouragement and guidance ensuring the receiver grows instead of withers. Bones heal quickly, wounded spirits not so much. We would all do well to remember this truth, and use it as the framework for our communication.
Until Next Time,
Becky J Miller ~ Warrior Princess
Becky J Miller is a contributor and is exclusive to SM Corridor News. You can read more of Becky’s columns in Lifestyle.
