The Power of the Spoken Word

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me". What a crock. Words not only hurt, but they have the power to define who we are. I know, I know, they only have power if we give it to them. But let's face it, as humans we are moved, wooed, incited, charged, committed, destroyed, built up, and forever altered--by WORDS.

I wasn't called too many names in high school (mostly because people didn't really notice I was there), but the two that I will always remember are "hooch" and "flat-chest". I don't even know what "hooch" meant. I certainly didn't dress like one. I was the Puritan in my school. The only thing I could think of was the movie Turner and Hooch, with Tom Hanks and a really ugly dog. So yep, that one hurt.

I spent so much of my young life wishing I were one of the pretty girls, a girl everyone noticed. When I finally came into my own, I guess sometime in college (that was, after all, when I landed myself a boyfriend who would become my husband), I started getting genuine compliments about how I looked. And I believed them, mostly. Once I lost my hair though, I became starved for compliments. The end result of my alopecia has not been too bad, but the process was a long and grotesque one, a gradual stripping away of the long awaited marks of femininity: long, wavy hair that I had finally learned how to style, eyebrows that I had finally started plucking, and eyelashes whose flirtatious and mysterious qualities I was finally becoming aware of, thanks to mascara. Alopecia woke me up every day saying "You will always come up short".

Luckily, I have not heard any slurs or negativity since losing my hair. I have never been made fun of or insulted, at least not to my face. Even little kids just ask a simple "Why don't you have any hair?" and whatever answer I give satisfies them. We all know how insults hurt. Especially when they derive from something completely beyond our control. But I've been lucky--I haven't had to internalize much name-calling.

I have actually had the opposite problem. When I realized I would never again have hair (in my Entire Life), I decided I needed to embrace my look and accentuate what I still do have. I started wearing dramatic makeup 24/7, I bought clothes that were actually in style, I got some big earrings, and I rocked the headscarves. Still do, if I say so myself.

Here's the problem: my dream came true. People (more importantly, men) noticed me. I have gotten hit on so many times in the last year that I sometimes have to stop and just shake my head in disbelief, remembering the late bloomer in high school who thought she would never turn anybody's head. Now, I know how all this sounds. If you are even still reading, you might be humming a familiar Carole King tune right about now. And you're right--I'm so vain. The power of a compliment is, I think, underrated. I have become incredibly concerned with how I look, to the point where I look in a mirror every time I pass one, even inventing reasons to walk by one. Maybe we all do that. But I really feel that my whole identity lately has been hiding in my concept of how I look. It's like a starving woman who finally gets food, and good food at that, and then can't settle for the meager fare that she normally would have been grateful to have. Does that analogy work?

I absolutely think we should give each other compliments. And I absolutely think we should learn to take compliments from others. I guess I need to learn to take compliments at face value. Just because someone tells me I look good doesn't mean that person is in love with me, or that I am The Only Person they have ever noticed. Just because someone might actually be attracted to me doesn't mean that person really wants to be with me. I have conflated the idea that I am (finally) outwardly beautiful with the idea that I am a person worth complimenting.

Don't get me wrong--obviously, I have come a long way in loving myself and accepting the nice things people say about me. I am generally happy with my looks when I go out. (Taking everything off at night is another story for another post). But I've gone too far. I was so hungry for the affirmation of my feminine charms and beauty that I completely neglected the inner woman, the one people have to live with and work with and be friends with. That woman, unfortunately, is taking a really long time to bloom. The woman inside is vain, selfish, anxious, rebellious, lazy, scared, and probably some other things I haven't had the courage to look at yet.

No, I'm not fishing for compliments right now. I'm just discovering the power of words. Words have remade me into a woman who is confident that she really is as beautiful as people say she is. Please, if that is a message you have not internalized yet, start believing the compliments you get! People generally don't just make stuff up.

But words have also convicted me. Lately I have been told that I am beautiful, inside and out. And I want to run and hide in shame when I hear the word "inside". The truth is, I don't feel so beautiful on the inside. Yet. I know I am a good friend to people. I know I am a good teacher. But as a mom, a wife, and a spiritual seeker who professes to follow a humble and loving God, I have a lot of blooming to do.

It's a good thing we're entering spring.