Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.
We’re told a lot of lies as children, but this ranks among the worst in my mind. I mean, really, sometimes we’d prefer a broken bone to the words we’ve been told. The impact doesn’t last nearly as long.
There’s been a major focus recently on bullying, especially among kids, and this is vitally important. For far too long we’ve just gone with the notion that kids will be kids and people say things without realizing how much they hurt. Obviously kids will be kids, and to some level we’ll never be able to avoid people unintentionally saying hurtful things. But occasionally the power of words hits just a bit too close to home for me.
You see, I was a brat as a child. For real. A horrible child. I don’t even remember all of it, but I remember plenty enough to know that I was often a nightmare for my family. I was (still am?) overwhelmingly stubborn, snarky and loud, and I had a horrible temper. Looking back, I can think of specific instances where I said truly horrible things.