Words that heal not wound

I get frustrated at what I call our ‘sound bite society’.  We have access to more information than ever before at the click of a mouse, but we seem to spend so little time reading and trying to understand complex or grey issues, instead going with the sound bite conclusion.  However, some sound bites or one-liners do seem to stick, and I’ve decided that if they promote positive thought or action then perhaps they are acceptable.  An example that caught my attention on the radio recently was the phrase ‘words that heal not wound’.   If I’m being honest, the amount of thought that goes into the words I speak and how much of a positive contribution they make to the people I interact with probably directly correlates with how sleep deprived or hungry or cold I am.  Another sound bite I’ve stored up is that’ it takes ten positive comments to make up for a negative’ and a third is that ‘you should not be abrasive if you want to be persuasive’.     

Words can be powerful weapons.  Silence, where words are withheld in place of dialogue can be incredibly hurtful.  Unexpected, critical or harsh words can pop a bubble of security or happiness and irreversibly change the dynamics of a relationship.  Words can raise and dash expectations, inspire and shatter dreams.  Of course there is a time and occasionally a need for difficult words, but those times aside, given the immense power words can have, maybe it is time I cared more about the words I speak or write every day.   I know that words I hear and read affect how I respond.  Perhaps I am simplistic in my need for recognition and praise, but if my manager says ‘This is an excellent piece of work, but would you mind just changing this bit?’ I am happy to make the change.  Had he not bothered with the positive praise you’d probably find me complaining about it. 

By instinct, when I am hurt, angry or frustrated the words that I want to speak (or shout) are negative and abrasive. But how much more useful would it be and how much quicker could a situation be improved if I already had eight or nine positives in the bank to cancel out the negative, particularly when dealing with my three year old? Or, how much easier would it be to persuade my husband that I’m right (I usually am....) if we’re not both using defensive, abrasive language and digging our heels in? 

Words can inspire and encourage, nurture and strengthen, bring hope, reassurance and instil confidence.  Words that heal not wound – a sound bite I hope is going to stick in my head for a while longer. 

I’d rather...

I’d rather there were blue hand prints around the sink because we did painting, than a clean sink because we didn’t.

I’d rather the ironing was piling up because we’d decided to go out on a bike ride, than the pile was done because we stayed at home.

I’d rather washing up that seems never ending because we’d invited friends round for a last minute gathering, than there be no washing up because we’d played alone.

I’d rather there was flour all over the kitchen table and floor because we’d made biscuits, than a clean kitchen because we didn’t.

I’d rather the washing mountain kept growing with bedding because we’d had people to stay than the spare room remained empty.

I’d rather our clothes got wet and dirty because we’d been to the woods and jumped in muddy puddles, than they were clean because we’d stayed in the dry.

I’d rather the compost bin was overflowing with peelings because we’d cooked from scratch than an empty bin because we hadn’t.

I’d rather toys were all over the floor and a bit worn and tatty because they’d been well loved and played with, than in resale condition because they’d been ignored.

I’d rather there were blutack marks on the wall than unspoiled paintwork if it means my children’s art work is on show and they know I am proud of it.

I’d rather there were muddy dog prints in the hall and, despite constant hoovering, dog hair wherever you look closely, than a pristine floor but no soft ears to stroke or practical lessons everyday for my children in how to love and care for animals.

I’d rather my conversations and train of thought were often left unfinished than there was no one here to interrupt them.

I’d rather my children push the boundaries with me than don’t, so then they will know where the boundaries are.

I’d rather my children’s demands and tantrums take as long as needed to resolve, than my children learn that whoever is biggest or strongest always gets their way.

I’d rather my children ask the endless ‘why’ questions, than always accepting my first answer if it means they keep learning, including learning how to negotiate and compromise.

I’d rather my children question authority than always submitting to it, as sometimes authority needs to be challenged.

I’d rather we be friends with lots of people, even those whose views we often don’t always agree with, than stay in our comfort zone if it means my children learn about tolerance and that different doesn’t automatically mean bad.

I’d rather  my parenting was seen as weak and my house a disaster by those that judge me, than change my approach if it means my children keep growing up more physically, emotionally and mentally able to deal with all life will throw at them.

Loving the Weston life we’re living (written September 2010)

‘I couldn’t want anything more for my children’ my husband said yesterday evening whilst watching our three year old splashing in the high tide on Weston sea front. I understood what he was thinking. Free fun and fresh air shared with new friends. Just then there was no other place on earth I think either of us would have wanted to be.

The work nearing completion on the Weston sea defences has resulted in a new, beautiful, wide, paved walkway running along the sea front, complemented with elegant stone seating. It was the first time we'd been down to the sea front for a while and I was impressed with what I saw. I sat on one of the stone seats to feed the baby. Next to me a woman was putting on roller blades. A number of joggers passed me along with individual and family groups of cyclists and walkers of all ages. A couple of guys were throwing and catching a rugby ball on the beach. Children were squealing with delight and running in and out of the sea. Dogs were chasing balls on the sand and in the distance the kites of kite boarders could be seen at the south end of the beach. A little boat bobbed on the sea as the sun began to set. So many people were out enjoying such a beautiful evening in a place we are proud to call home.

I think most of my life I have been waiting. Waiting until I’ve passed exams, finished my education, got a job, got somewhere to live, found Mr. Right (salsa classes is where I found him in case you are wondering). Now I have small children I don’t want to wait any more. Waiting for them to walk or talk or start school. I’m enjoying living now. I’m sure most people would like more money or job security or time amongst other things, but yesterday evening reminded me that in the midst of the busyness, worries and frustrations of daily life there is much joy to be had in the small things. A three year olds fascination with a woodlouse discovered whilst blackberry picking in Worlebury Woods, a messy kitchen but home-made gingerbread men, picking and eating home grown cherry tomatoes, my daughters face when she mastered the fireman’s pole by herself in the park and the pleasure of feeling the evening sun on my face whilst watching my daughter have the time of her life on the beach.