By Crystal Cook of The Qwiet Muse
When I was a little girl I couldn’t understand the phrase, Choose your words wisely, for someday you may have to eat them. (I thought it was silly; just silly.) But the first time I tasted the bitterness of words misspoken, I understood exactly what it meant.
It was meant as a compliment — I think — but it almost changed the course of my life.
I’d written a story, a great story according to everyone. Everyone except my fifth grade teacher. She didn’t say it wasn’t good, but her comment was disheartening. “Keep it up; maybe one day you’ll write something worth reading.” My little writer heart sunk. I thought I was writing things worth reading. Thankfully, I didn’t let those words stop me, and by the end of that year, she was one of my greatest cheerleaders when it came to the written word.
Now, I carefully choose each word. I admit to some in the heat of the moment faux pas, but for the most part, I do a good job of thinking before I speak. But I wish more people understood the power of words: they can heal or hurt. They can make you laugh and/or make you cry. And sometimes, they can do everything at once.
You see, something seemingly insignificant can affect someone in an unexpected and unintended way depending on their state of mind. Someone who is angry may take what is said to them as an attack. Someone who is sad may hear nothing but gloom. Someone with low self-esteem may turn a compliment into criticism. (I happen to be a good example in this respect. Self-esteem and I are not always the best of friends.)
Self-esteem is often a fleeting thing, and this is especially true with mothers. It comes and goes, leaving us feeling elated or downtrodden whenever it pleases. Because motherhood is not glamorous. Gone are the high heels and short skirts. Gone are the dangly earrings and the always applied, never faded lipstick.
White clothing vanishes from our closets — falling to our dry-clean-only garments — only to be replaced by more practical attire: comfy sweats, baggy T-shirts and well-worn jeans. And slippers and tennis shoes for our tired tootsies.
My son overheard me complaining to the mirror one afternoon about, well, let’s just say I was mourning the body of my youth. He came to me, and in the kindest little voice he said, “Mommy, I think you look really skinny everywhere except your tummy.” Backfire. I felt it my duty to remind him he was the one who originally began the great tummy expansion of 1989.
Here’s the thing: There are many opportunities in life, but there are many opportunities for “the backfire” to take place. For instance, after two weeks of healthy eating and exercise, I happily announced to my husband I’d lost seven pounds, expecting at the very least a pat on the back. He turned to me and said, “That’s great. I didn’t even notice.” My look conveyed disappointment.
“You know what I meant. You don’t have a ton to lose.”
The look remained.
Another example of “the backfire”: A childless friend said to me, “You look nice today.” And wow, did that make me feel good! Someone noticed, and it made me smile. But then my (former) friend said, “It must be nice to get dolled up every now and then. I wish I only had to worry about the way I looked once or twice a month.” My smile faded.
There are other sources of self-esteem to draw from, though, and my self-esteem cannot be contingent on the compliments of others. So instead of lamenting things, I will be thankful, for in high heels I could not race my children. I couldn’t roll around on the floor in a skirt and tickle them until they couldn’t laugh anymore. And I would never do a paint-by-number project in dry-clean-only clothes.
The point is, their smiles, laughter, sticky kisses, and muddy hugs are enough, though I wouldn’t mind if someone said, “You’re a good mother.” That would be the greatest compliment of all.
A version of this post originally appeared on The Qwiet Muse.
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ABOUT CRYSTAL COOK
Crystal Cook — otherwise known as Qwietpleez here on the interwebs — goes by many names, most notably “Mommy.” Proud wife and mother four, she is an Autism Warrior Momma and an advocate for those with special needs and their families. She writes about about life and love, the good and the bad, the serious and the silly over at theqwietmuse.com, and sometimes to make some spare change for Venti iced coffees, she writes about other things. She is new(ish) to blogging and socializing, and is a recent and reluctant hashtag user, which she stubbornly maintains should be referred to as an octothorpe. Her hobbies include sleeping in and defending the oxford comma.