Nails, Labels, and the Ones That Stayed
I have been thinking a lot about words lately. Not big, important words. Not speeches or headlines. The small ones. The ones someone says to you on a Tuesday afternoon when you are thirteen years old, and you are still carrying them around in your body at fifty-nine.
Kind words can bring a smile, save a life, heal a rift that felt permanent. And mean words, hateful words, can bring tears that last far longer than the moment. They can leave wounds that never fully close. We all know this. We have all been on both sides of it.
But I think we underestimate just how long words live. How they take up residence in us without our permission and stay.
The Nail and the Fence
I read a story once about a boy who had a habit of saying mean and hateful things to the people around him. His father tried everything. He sat him down. He talked to him. He explained what those words did to people. And every single conversation fell on deaf ears.
So his father tried something different.
The next time his son said something particularly cruel, his father did not reprimand him. He handed him a hammer and a nail and told him to go outside and hammer that nail into the fence in the backyard. And he continued this practice every single time the boy said something negative or hateful. One nail. Into the fence.
Eventually, the boy grew tired of hammering nails. He stopped saying the mean and hateful things. And so his father handed him the hammer again. This time he told him to go pull every nail out of the fence and come back and tell him what he saw.
The boy came back and said the fence was full of holes.
His father took a moment. And then he said, “Son, every time you say something mean or hateful to someone, you leave holes in their heart. Just like the ones in that fence.”
You can pull out the nail. You can apologize. You can take back the words. But the holes remain.
Waddles the Duck
I was thirteen. I can tell you exactly what I was wearing and exactly where I was standing when a boy looked at me and told me I had a big butt and I waddled like a duck when I walked.
Waddles the duck. That is what he called me.
I am fifty-nine years old. That was over forty-five years ago. And I can still feel the heat in my face when I think about it. I can still see the hallway. I can still hear his voice. Those three words, said by a boy whose last name I barely remember, burrowed into me and stayed. They shaped how I walked into rooms for years. They shaped how I thought about my body. They left a hole, and I spent a long time trying to fill it with something other than shame.
That is the power of words. Not the grand ones. Not the ones in books or on stages. The careless ones. The ones spoken without thought by someone who probably forgot them five minutes later. Those are the ones that move in and never leave.
Difficult. Bitchy. Too Much.
Here is what I find interesting about midlife. The words that get aimed at us change, but the intent is the same.
When we were young, the words were about our bodies, our looks, whether we were pretty enough or thin enough or quiet enough. And now that we are older, now that we have finally stopped arranging ourselves to make everyone else comfortable, the words are different. We are difficult. We are bitchy. We are too much.
A woman sets a boundary and she is difficult. A woman speaks her mind and she is bitchy. A woman stops putting herself last on her own list and suddenly she is selfish, she has changed, she is not who she used to be.
You are right. She is not who she used to be. She got tired of swallowing words she should have said out loud twenty years ago. She got tired of smiling through conversations that left nail holes in her fence. She got tired of being Waddles the duck, arranging herself so no one would notice how she walked.
And the thing is, those labels, difficult and bitchy and too much, those are just nails, too. Somebody else’s nails. Somebody else’s attempt to hammer you back into a shape that is more convenient for them.
The Words We Choose Now
I think about that fence a lot. I think about the holes I have received, and if I am being honest with myself, I think about the ones I have left. Because I have left them. We all have. There are things I said in anger or carelessness or frustration that I cannot take back, and the holes are still there even though I am sorry.
So here is where I have landed, and I will not pretend it is a tidy conclusion because it is not.
Be careful with your words. Be careful with other people’s hearts. The nail goes in so easily and the hole it leaves behind is permanent. Your children hear you. Your friends hear you. The woman standing next to you in the grocery store hears you. Speak kindly. Speak gently. Not because it is easy, but because you know what a nail feels like.
I wrote recently about turning toward yourself in midlife, about the quiet revolution of finally noticing your own needs after a lifetime of noticing everyone else’s. This is the other side of that same coin. Because so many of us never turned toward ourselves in the first place because someone’s words, spoken once, convinced us we were not worth turning toward.
And also, speak up. Set the boundary. Say the thing you have been swallowing for decades. If someone calls you difficult for it, let them. If someone calls you bitchy, let them. Those are their nails, not yours, and you do not have to hammer them into your own fence anymore.
You are not too much. You are just finally enough.
I would love to hear from you on this one, friends. Is there a word or a comment from years ago that still lives in you? Something someone said, careless or cruel, that stayed long past its welcome? And on the other side of it, have you found your voice in midlife, even when it earned you a label you did not ask for? Tell me in the comments.
If this post resonated with you, I hope you will follow along on Instagram, Pinterest, and Facebook. I share more thoughts like these throughout the week, and I love hearing from you there.
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On Turning Toward Yourself in Midlife
I’m 73
Written on a desk in my high school English class was my name and a picture drawn of very large lips and some words to the effect my big lips look bad. I never knew who did or how many people saw it but I still have a hole because of it.
Cynthia, I am sorry that someone did that to you. Sticks and stone may bread my bones but words may never hurt, I am not sure who said that but boy they were wrong.
I am sure that your lips are beautiful and fill, something that everyone strives for especially in midlife.
In my 30s, I bought a pair of white jeans for summer, which was something I’d never done before. My husband and friends complimented me and said they looked great. Then one day in a store and a woman walked up to me and said “I think I should tell you how ridiculous you look. Like you are wearing a pair of long underwear.” and walked away. I was hurt, stung, and felt humiliated on the spot. I never wore them again or ever bought white pants again. I’m in my late 60s and still remember.
Anna, go out this week and get a pair of white pants! You are and will look beautiful. Put those nasty words out of your head and shine like the woman you are.
White linen looks beautiful and if anyone should day anything say I switched my long underwear for lounge wear.
Finding your voice and knowing your worth is the most powerful thing you can do for yourself. The unkind words or slights don’t sting quite so much when you remember who you are in God’s eyes. That His love is unconditional. Most of the people in my life who have been hurtful are usually the ones who are very insecure about who they are. They have probably been hurt themselves. I can now look at them with pity and say a prayer for them to find the peace they desperately need. Life is such a journey of love and forgiveness.
Ellen, you are so right. Sadly when you are young and impressionable and you do not yet know your worth or that God has “your back” these things weasel their way into your soul like satan the snake in the Garden of Eden. Thankfully all these years later I am my own cheerleader and these things fall off my back like water off a duck. When you have traveled through life, you wear your scars like armor and you know that you are walking with God or that he is carrying you.
Thank you for your beautiful insights.
Have a lovely week.
My mom once told me that if you don’t have long toes you are not going to be wealthy or fortunate in life. All the rich people have long toes. To this day I never wear sandals and always wear my socks. My mom was a very insecure person, even to this day at 84. I know now that that was why she always made me feel so self conscious.
Hearing all the chatter about those wearing bathing suits while sitting sitting on a cruise ship or a pool prevents me from ever wearing a bathing suit ever again. I don’t wish to be made fun of or judged like that ever. So I never put myself out there. Shame on those who feel as if they need to spill out their own inner sadness onto others.
Lori, as you say, shame on those people who feel the need to be so unkind, cruel and often times vicious because they are hurting.
I am sorry that you feel like you cannot wear a swimsuit or sandals.
The pain and injuries we carry from childhood have lasting scars.
Thank you for sharing your story.
When I was 17, my father called me a parasite. The night my father died, my mother told me I was worthless and not her daughter. She ordered me out of the house. jd
JD, I am sorry. I have tears reading your comment. I hope that you found some kind, generous and loving friends who became family to you.
Thank you for sharing your story.
I think everyone has a nail wound of their own to tell and as with many, mine involves my mother. She was very thin and elegant looking – could eat like a horse and not gain an ounce and would brag about it to her 5 daughters. “I ate a dozen oatmeal cookies last night and never gained an ounce this morning.” One daughter was built like her but the rest of us weren’t. She and I were students at the university at the same time and often ate lunch together in the student union. One day when I was 20, I left the table to get some silverware and when I came back, she was laughing loudly and people around her were staring. I asked her what she was laughing at and she said “when you walked away from me, your buns were going like this” and she raised her hands in the air and made up and down motions with them. I nearly melted through the floor. The memory of those words and many other similar instances sadly weighed me down for many years. I’m now 78 years old and I think finally coming to the end of that struggle. I’m very crooked with several scoliosis curves in my back and have osteoporosis that causes severe pain in my feet when I walk. So I walk really weird and can’t exercise like I used to and have gained weight as a result. My mother’s voice is still in my head but becoming very very faint thank God. I’ll never be like I was physically and there is such peace in acceptance at my age of what is and what can’t be changed. Now I’m just moving on.
Joan, I am so sorry that your mother was so insensitive to you and to your feelings. I cannot imagine what that felt like. I hope that you find some relief from your pain. And I thank God that your mother’s voice is becoming more and more faint. Thank you for sharing your story, pain is never easy to share.
Take care of yourself and have a lovely 4th of July holiday.
Dear Elizabeth,
I have enjoyed so many of your blog messages and some very excellent life messages to share with all of us. Your story telling is deeply enjoyed. As you know, I spend little time on my desk top and my phone is the way I usually respond, and if your blog and my iPhone are getting along in a swell way I get to read your entire blog in parts, then it flits around. ERR! Moving forward to what I want to say…
I so enjoyed the nail and fence story, this is an excellent lesson. I so relate to being 13 years young and having that cruel boy say what he said to you. These type of words stick with us for a life time sometimes and are hard to toss out of our heads. It’s hard even if we know better to just consider the source it sticks and we absorb those words like a sponge.
I too had a mean boy say something to me that has stayed with me. When you are at an awkward age sometimes you aren’t at your pretty stage. I always had super thick hair, and very long, and I was not into braces yet. For some reason hair got all cut off into a short pixie. A boy at school said I looked like “Frankenstein,” that stayed with me for a very long time. To add insult to energy I was the tallest in my class, in a training bra, and started my menstrual cycle at 12 years young. Someone in my class knew and put my kotex out on top of my desk. When I returned to class after recess I was mortified to say the least. Mean thing to say and do.
I was raised on kindness and being a sensitive child and still the same as an adult these things stayed with me. To this day I only have three friends that I consider my dearest and most trusting friends. I have more but they are not considered my enter pond. I have learned that way too many women in my life have their own insecurities and like to take swipes at you because they are so jealous of you. My husband keeps reminding me of this. It’s too bad, I’ve always admired all the gifts some ladies have that I will never have or want to have. I just sit in admiration. I don’t get it.
At the end of the day I just want people to be kind and nice to one another. As Michelle Obama once said (I just loved this), “when they go low, we go high.”
Continue with where you are going with your blog, you are “pure joy” and you add to my life. It’s too bad we live states apart. I would love to share the table with you.
A joyful last Saturday. My husband and me went to our collective friends 100th birthday celebration and I will never ever forget it. Mary socially engaged so well and smiled so much. She is now in a care home. Our friend and her husband took care of her for 10 years. Can you imagine what that takes? It’s huge, her income did not allow for a lovely place to care for her. That has changed she now qualities for financial assistance. A huge blessing.
Elizabeth, this got way too long, hopefully you are not crying in your hot chocolate.
Hopefully your garden will turn out to be everything you both are hoping for. I know your garden brings you joy. You both deserve that.
Katherine, I am so sorry that my blog and your phone do not seem to get along. I have tried everything I can to fix it. I will have my tech guy keep trying.
The most rewarding part of this blog is friends like you. Even though we have never met, we are kindred spirits. As are many of the other woman who follow the blog. We are all moving through life and carrying our baggage, whatever that may be. It has all shaped us into the amazing people that we have become.
I can only imagine how you felt when some nasty person did that to you, I have tears in my eyes thinking about it, as I have with many of the other comments shared here today. How in the world do so many of us have stories like this? How could there be so many mean, insensitive, nasty people in the world, including some parents.
I thank you for sharing your story and and for being a friend across the miles. I too have 3 friends and I would trust them with my life.
100 years old! Wow, can you imagine the things this lady has seen? A world war, the Korean War, the Cold War, Vietnam, tv and so much more. I bet it was a beautiful celebration.
Have a happy and safe 250th birthday to America.
Oh what a great topic today. My Mother told me as a young teen that I had “sturdy legs”. I never forgot and have been aware of it my entire life. Sturdy legs were not meant as a compliment. But-My sturdy legs skied, hiked, and kept up with 3 boys. So-all good.
When I was 18, my best friend, who was tan, had long thick, dark hair and very well endowed, and I were at a concert. A young man came up to her raving about how beautiful she was, he stopped and looked at me ( a 120 lb 5’6″ flat chested freckled redhead pale as milk with sturdy legs-not really the look of the southern CA beach town we lived in) and said “you, you are a ugly dog” I lost my best friend to brain cancer when we were 37, so I am glad that some weird drunk random concert guy told her she was beautiful, because she was.
I miss her everyday, and we should be laughing about the idiot together.
Sandy,
I am sorry about the loss of your best friend, that cannot be easy. You are right you should be here laughing with her about that idiot.
I have no words for the horrid young man that said such a nasty and hateful thing to you. I do not condone violence but I wish that you had said that you or your friend slapped him. On that not, how in the heck did thing guy think insulting you as you stood next to your friend was ever going to be a good pick-up.
As for your legs, how blessed that you are to have hiked, skied and to have raised your 3 boys. I hope they keep you doing the same for many years to come, and with your grandchildren.
Thank you for sharing your story.
You would be so pretty if you didn’t have acne.
That is a difficult one. Sadly we all have it, even me at 59! Nasty people are everywhere. I’m sure Georgia that you are pretty with and without acne.
Just wanted to say that I enjoyed your post and I agree that people sometimes say things that hurt and that hurt stays. I don’t actually remember any specific incidents that hurt me, but have heard people say things that they shouldn’t.
I will say that at 81, I do find it hurts to have people call me “young lady” or act like my age makes me less knowledgable. This hurts, yet I understand that many at our age have some memory loss… but unless one has demintia, our faculties still work fine. Being grouped into a “old person” category is demeaning.
A few years ago I was in a car accident (no one was hurt), but I heard the officer say “the driver was a 74 year old woman” like of course it was my fault (because of my age?). I still think it wasn’t, but doesn’t really matter… it was how he said it that stayed with me.
My dad who had bad dementia and was in a nursing home when lockdown for Covid happened. I was not allowed to see him and he didn’t understand why. A month before he died they wheeled him outside after they told me we could visit. The last words he ever said to me was “I almost hate you”..even though I knew his brain was broken it was sad to hear this after all the care I gave him for 7 years.
On another occasion a good friend of mine who I taught and socialized with didn’t like that I had not liked the book she chose for book club. After not hearing from her in a while, I texted her and what she wrote back stunned me. She laid into me about it! It was so hurtful and shocking. She never did apologize even though I did. It’s taken me years to get over that.
Thank you for writing this
My dad who had bad dementia and was in a nursing home when lockdown for Covid happened. I was not allowed to see him and he didn’t understand why. A month before he died they wheeled him outside after they told me we could visit. The last words he ever said to me was “I almost hate you”..even though I knew his brain was broken it was sad to hear this after all the care I gave him for 7 years.
On another occasion a good friend of mine who I taught and socialized with didn’t like that I had not liked the book she chose for book club. After not hearing from her in a while, I texted her and what she wrote back stunned me. She laid into me about it! It was so hurtful and shocking. She never did apologize even though I did. It’s taken me years to get over that.
Thank you for writing this,
Nanci,
Thank you for sharing. I cannot imagine how your father’s comment felt. Covid was hardest I believe on the old and having dementia is an added dimension of confusion, pain and more. Your father was blessed to have you care for him for 7 years, that is a difficult task.
As for the friend who “laid into you” over a book! That is incredibly sad and circles back to all of the things we have been saying for the last 10 years, why are we not allowed to have a different opinion than someone else? And if we do, why can’t there be a calm discussion about the issue? Are you still friends with this person or has there been lasting damage?
Have a wonderful weekend.
Yes we are “friends” but in a very changed way. We no longer do things together and I run into her on occasion in the gym. But it is not the same. She dropped out of bookclub the day before she was to host even though we had read her book that month. So odd.