Growing up at some point we discovered there were some words that were “bad”, they were words we were never supposed to say.
It occurs to me now that I have zero memories of the word fuck hurting. Nor damn, or shit, or hell.
No, my four letter words were different. They were rat’s nest (used to describe my hair), and willful, and stubborn. Or hate, annoying, and bossy. These were the words that hurt and they were used daily by the adults and family who.. loved me?
I know these words may not elicit the same general reaction as the word cunt, but let me tell you friend, they did far more harm in my life than that word ever did.
Rat’s nest is part of my story of disconnection from my body because of the false message that it was not enough as is.
Willful and stubborn have always been my mother’s favorite way to tell me I am bad.
Hate was my brother’s reminder throughout our childhood that he would not ever love me.
Annoying justified the abuse I suffered at his hands by both him and my parents.
And bossy.. just in case I got any ideas of staying in connection with my power, they made sure this last one made me think twice. Bossy was the ultimate minimizer, the light dimmer, the silencer.
These were the four letter words of my childhood, the anti-love that should have never been spoken, and whose roots dug deep.
On the path to healing I have welcomed these parts of me home. The parts of me that knew things and would not roll over easily to be a victim. The parts of me that wanted to be free. The parts of me that wanted to play and take up space. The parts of me who are strong. The only word I have no place for is hate, that word I give back to its owner because I know it does not belong to me.
Now I stand in my light of truth and say I, the girl with tangled hair and the loud mouth, who speaks her mind, and gives herself sacred permission to take up space, am enough.