Words : Choose them Wisely

Moss

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This is an essay I wrote about a week ago, feel free to respond.

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Written by TM (November 2003)

The bedroom reeked with the gloom of a bewildered soul. Hopeless and distraught was the boy resting on his baseball sheets upon his bed. Gushing out of the boy’s eyes were the tears of misery and hatred. The tears descended down his cheek and trickled into the ocean of eternal despair. He was a third-grader filled with youthful vigor and innocence, yet he had already realized the cruelties of an inhumane society. Voices were thrusting insults at him inside of his brilliant mind. Voices that he had heeded a thousand too many times. You are an earless freak. You are an ugly ******. What in the hell happened to your face? Your jaw is crooked; want me to fix it for you? I’m going to shove your fake ears up your ass.

That youthful, innocent child was myself approximately ten years ago. Those voices that were sounding off in my head were just five of the millions of insults I’ve heard in my relatively short life. With those insults in mind I find it astonishing that some people have the audacity and ignorance to utter the phrase, “Sticks and stones will break your bones, but words cannot hurt you.” This propaganda is wrongfully being engraved into the minds of our youth.

I first heard the phrase when I was a very young child, not yet in kindergarten. My brother was the first to whisper that phrase into my prosthetic ear. My brother was a forceful child, and he expected me to follow in his footsteps. Men are held to be masculine, and he alleged that it was not cool to let words get to your emotions. I have since matured, and I have come to realize that it is not the recipient of harsh words who is not cool, but the giver of those harsh words. Sticks and stones do break bones, and words do devastate hearts and minds.

Two words from my childhood could easily have been knives thrust at my heart. These two words hurt worse than any needle that has ever been prodded into me, worse than any staple ever extracted, and worse than all but two of my soon-to-number twenty-four surgeries. The words still play over and over in my head. They are a never-ending pain that has somehow vanished from sight. They have left a scar unlike those on my chest. This scar is concealed, but equally painful. The two words I describe are plain and possibly meaningless to most of the population, but for me they illustrate detestation and ignorance. The two infamous words are crooked jaw.

Eighteen years ago, on the thirty-first of August, I came into this world. I was born on the exact same day my grandmother remarried. This was supposed to be a day of ecstasy and splendor for her and the rest of my family. However, my grandmother did not shed tears of joy that morning. Only tears of sorrow could be seen descending down her cheek. She had just found out that her grandson had been born without ears. Little did she know then, and little could she have imagined, but being earless was the most benign of my medical conditions. I was born with Goldenhar Syndrome. Goldenhar Syndrome is a disease that effects an assortment of body parts and has varying effects on the brain. In my case, I was born without ears, a deformed jaw, and an abnormal heart with a hole in the center. The true hole in my heart coincides significantly with the mythical hole that has been fashioned. Early in 2004 I will have my twenty-fourth surgery. Of those surgeries, only my heart and jaw surgeries even compare to the agony of hearing the words I stated above.

Most children are teased in elementary school, and I was far from an exception. Most of the insults propelled my way were commonplace. Insults like four-eyed and wimp did not penetrate my thick outer-shell. It was the insults that were deeply personal that hit me like blows to the stomach. Insults like earless and crooked jaw still haunt my mind. These indiscriminately thrown insults gave me intolerable pain. They hurt not because of who I was, but because of who I will never become. The solution for people with glasses was to get contacts. Most of the small, wimpy children soon grew up. For me, however, I had to deal with the reality that I would never grow ears, and that my jaw would never become straight. I realized that I would never be the guy with whom girls flirt. I was born the way I was, and there was nothing I could do to change myself.

Two insults, earless and crooked jaw, nearly destroyed me. You might be inclined to think that both probably hurt the same, but that would be an incorrect assumption. Earless was just a word, but crooked jaw was much more. When my fellow classmates talked about my face, they didn’t just say crooked jaw. They would utter, “I can straighten that jaw out for you if you would like me to.” Then they would close their fists and punch their own jaws. Often words were not needed; they would only have to look at me, twist their mouths one way or another and then straighten. When I was out of hearing distance, they would motion. When I was within hearing distance, they would talk. Either way, they would find a means to get their point across. I wish I had counted all of the times I thought about taking a punch at someone for saying or doing those derogatory acts. I may have thought about unleashing the fury within myself, but I never did, nor do I ever wish for that fury to be expelled.

I may have not harmed anyone else, but I thought about harming myself on many occasions. During my last year of elementary school I was walking the thin line between life and death. I felt like I had very few friends. I felt like I was hated and despised by everyone. Those feelings combined with others left me feeling like I had no reason for which to be alive. I remember saying thousands of times, “I just as well be dead.” My classmates had no idea, and still are unaware of the way their words and actions made me feel. They made me feel like the way I actually was, and still am. I was different. I was earless and I did have a crooked jaw. I was ugly, and knowing the truth was my demise.

The only difference between now and then is about ten years of life experience. In those ten years I have realized that it is okay to be unique. It is okay if I don’t have ears. It is okay if I have a crooked jaw. I now understand that there are very few people that see past the exterior and into the interior of an individual. I now know that it is the content of a person’s character that matters, not the physical features with which a person is endowed. In third grade I was too young to understand any of those revelations, and my classmates were too young to understand the pain caused by their words.

If and when I have my own children, I hope they never hear the phrase, “Words cannot hurt you.” Words said to young children or grown adults have a big impact. The example of myself may border on the extreme side of the spectrum, but that is irrelevant. There are many more people out there just like me, and they should be treated with the respect they deserve. No child should ever have to come home engulfed in tears, and no person should ever have to say he has no reason for which to live. It does not matter to whom you are talking to or what you are talking about, you must always think before you speak. Words, whether encouraging or hurtful, have a long lasting impact. It is imperative that everyone recognize that words are very treacherous; choose them wisely.
 
Being different is very difficult, especially for a child. Its no picnic as an adult either. I gave up trying to fit in with the crowd a long time ago. Some peoples differentness cant be seen, its on the inside, but it can have just as drastic consequences. If you survive, you come out stronger than all the cookie cutter people around you. Great essay Moss, Im glad those jerks werent able to drag you down:goodjob:
 
Thank you for the compliments, although I would assume that this essay probably touches the people who know me more than the people on an internet discussion board. Again, thanks...
 
Great essay with a valuable message.

But one thing I'm wondering is what made you change your mind? You once thought there was no reason to live, now you realize it's okay to be different and realize that there are indeed things you can do with your life and reasons to live. Was there a specific moment that changed your mind? A specific person? Just curious; maybe you could include it in your essay.
 
Hey, that's exactly what I have experienced far too often myself. Not the way with that crooked jaw, but it was the same. I wear glasses, but they didn't "tease" me for that. It was my personality. I've never written an essay like that, but I've learned the same lesson as you. It's the interior that counts. In my place my interior was wrong.

How can people be that evil?
 
This reminded me of a little test I set myself, and the unexpected result, some years back when I began thinking of having a kid. I bought a Tamagochi electronic pet. A Tamagotchi, for those who missed the fad, is an essentially needy little egg-sized gadget with buttons and a screen. It's a parenting test because the device requires lots of attention, day and night - it might start beeping for a virtual diaper change while you're driving or beeping for a virtual snack while you're talking on the phone. How you treat it affects how it grows up.

The box showed example Tamagotchi pets at various stages. A lime and yellow pet displaying "87 lbs". An all orange pet with keychain, playing peekaboo on screen. Mine powered on with the virtual birthweight of 1 oz. I plied it with meals and games and over the days watched my pet grow and prosper. But something was odd - it only displayed weight in ounces. Finally the pesky toy levelled off as a 99 "oz." teddy bear!

Next day, I handed the sales receipt and slightly worn, boxed, once loved Tamagotchi Virtual Pet to the cashier. It was defective. I wanted a new one with properly working circuitry to display weight in both ounces and pounds. This new Tamagotchi was a different colour, and it came with a slightly revised instruction booklet. "Mature weight: 99 oz."

I even tried phoning the store's shipping/receiving department. They'd already sent my Tamagotchi back to the manufacturer, or so I was told. Maybe the guy I talked to just didn't feel like digging for it. I'll never know.
 
I have never had to deal with a true physical deformity, but I have been around people with various handicaps a great deal. Based on my experience, I must take exception to the essay.

Words truly cannot hurt, unless you let them. IMO it is almost never the handicap that matters, it is the willingness to deal with all the emotional BS that comes with it. The essay was eloquent on that aspect. Yet it is also what makes you memorable. You can stand out in a crowd without trying. At bottom you are a unique person, with your own set of strengths and weaknesses.

J

PS I rather like the Friday show Joan of Arcadia. It is the first show I have seen that deals with the family dynamics of handicap at all realistically.
 
Originally posted by onejayhawk
Words truly cannot hurt, unless you let them.


I agree to the principle of that statement. And in reality, nothing hurts, (break up with loved one, death of friend or family member, ect...) unless you let it hurt you. But you must realize that some things are not easily thrown to the side. (especially when I was only 8-10 years old)
 
Originally posted by WillJ
But one thing I'm wondering is what made you change your mind? You once thought there was no reason to live, now you realize it's okay to be different and realize that there are indeed things you can do with your life and reasons to live. Was there a specific moment that changed your mind? A specific person? Just curious; maybe you could include it in your essay.

I wouldn't say there was one thing that changed my mind, but a multitude of events. My parents and siblings helped me out a lot, and as I said in the essay growing up also helped me realize a bunch of things.
 
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