Words do Hurt

Have you heard that saying, “Sticks and stones break bones, but words can never hurt you?” Well, that saying is untrue. Words do hurt. They don’t break bones, but they break hearts and souls. Words tear apart a person from the inside and leave wounds and scars no one can see. Wounds that take years to heal and scars that never completely goaway. Sometimes it takes therapy and medication to heal the soul and heart.

​When children get made fun of and put down on a daily basis, it’s not just kids being kids. It’s much more than that. It’s bullying and a form of abuse. Those put downs can hurt and destroy a person from the inside out. It hurts just as if the child was being physically beaten.

My mom said I was a happy child before I started school. She said I used to smile and talk openly with the truckers at the family garage, but something changed when I went to school. My classmates and teachers broke me. They tore me down and stripped me of my pride. They broke my heart and crumbled my self-esteem. Day after day, at school, on the bus and even playing in my yard they stabbed me with put downs and cruel taunting. Why? Because I was different. I couldn’t learn as easily as they could because I have a learning disability.

​“Aimee is a retard,” my classmates said.

​“You don’t belong in our school,” they said.

​“You’re stupid. You’ll never be anything. You’ll grow up and be on welfare,” a girl who was supposed to be my friend told me.

My heart broke and sadness began to fill me. My mom told me not to believe what they said, but how could I not. I knew I wasn’t like them. They could read when I couldn’t. They could do in-school classwork when I was unable too. I went to a special room for extra help which my classmates called the class for retards. My teachers told my mom I would never be able to do anything.

​They tore me down. I began to hate myself for being different and started to believe I was dumb. I couldn’t fight back. I quietly took their insults and allowed teachers to assign students to give me answers on tests and classwork.

My happiness faded and darkness filled my insides. It became harder and harder to smile. At night I struggled to sleep and had nightmares about school. I dreaded going to school the next day so I tossed and turned in my bed and prayed for sleep to come.

​The pain of my emotions burned inside me like a fire I could not control. That fire grew and grew. At home one word from one of my siblings and I would scream, cry and throw things. The damage to my soul was done. I was out of control one minute and a sobbing wreck on the floor the next. I felt trapped inside my body. I couldn’t tell anyone what was going on inside me or how badly I hurt.

​Oh how those words my classmates and teacher said to me hurt. I wasn’t beaten down by fists, but by words. By high school I stopped talking unless I had to. Somewhere deep within me I found enough strength to push past the put downs and succeed. I made the merit roll, then honor roll and Nationalhonors society, but I gave up having fun to prove myself. I studied hours on end and became obsessed with passing. Even though I exceeded their expectations I never saw myself equal to them. I, in my own eyes, was never good enough so I pushed harder.

​I graduated from school with five scholarships and started going to a two year college. I planned on going on to a four year college, but I became deeply depressed and hit rock bottom. I became suicidal and started self-injuring. I had to take a year off from school. I was sure I had proved my classmates right; I was a loser.

​I struggled for years with the wounds those words from my school years caused. I was diagnosed with depression, anxiety, self-injury and Borderline Personality Disorder. It took hospitalization, years of therapy and hard work to heal my wounds. The scars are still there and they run deep, but in therapy I learned to love myself, to change my thinking and to heal my broken heart.

​After several years of therapy and the help of my loving husband I have reached recovery from my mental illness. I have become someone. I have been a cashier at a grocery store for 22 years, have reached recovery from mental illness, finished the first draft of my memoir and am writing blogs. I am a beautiful person who loves to listen to my customers and share my stories with others.

​Words break hearts, but with hard work you can put your heart back together and rise above the bullying. In time the wounds do heal and you can go on to be someone special.

​If you are being bullied tell someone, a teacher, the principle, a parent or other family member. Don’t keep your pain inside you. Talk to someone. The heart and soul can be mended with help. With help my heart and soul has mended and I’m stronger than ever.