What is Speaking the Right Words?
Don’t forget, don’t forget, don’t forget! I practiced my Frank Lloyd Wright speech countless times the night before the big day, memorizing each word. I wanted to get it just right, not just because I intended to impress my peers with my newfound knowledge; all the parents would also be in attendance for our class speeches, making it the event of the year (at least by 4th grade standards). I ran through it a couple more times after waking up that morning, and before I knew it, I was up in front of the class looking at all the eyes staring back at me, old and young. I started the speech just like how I practiced—hitting all the right words and making my point known. I was about to launch into the details of my research; then, my mind went blank. I searched around the room for clues but came up empty. The grip of terror seized me as panic set in; I could see the words in their eyes…he forgot. Eventually, my eyes met my teacher’s, who gave me the “keep going” signal by waving her arm in a circular motion. I picked up with the words I remembered next—the ending—and then I was heading back to my seat, wondering where things went wrong.
Following that catastrophe, I avoided public speaking as best I could; I focused instead on playing piano, which conveniently positioned me away from the probing eyes of others, at least from what I could see. Still, the need to hit the right notes stressed me out beyond belief, just like when I had to make a speech. Speaking of which, it seemed it was my fate to stand in front of the class and discuss some book, theory, or (gulp!) myself. Prior to being called up, I would find myself in a mental quicksand, trying to remain calm but feeling my heart rate rising steadily. As my classmates stood, delivered, and sat back down, my ears refused to listen to anything more than that doubt-ridden reminder in my head…don’t forget, don’t forget, don’t forget!!! Then, the moment of truth. Despite my level of preparation or how perfectly I was able to recite the speech in my head, that overwhelming doubt hovered over my shoulders as I opened my mouth to speak. Even if the words came out right—if things went “ok”—I would hightail it back to my chair afterwards and focus on what I could have done better. Should have done better. It was quickly becoming a lose-lose(-lose) situation as my lack of confidence jumbled the words in my head, making for an excruciating experience for me, my peers/professors listening, and my grade. Forget it, forget it, forget it!
Fortunately, there was hope on the horizon as I started out on my career path: ghostwriting. I’ve written a great many letters, articles, and whatever else came across my desk on behalf of someone else; what made me happiest was handing off speeches that I would not be responsible for delivering. I had the chance to choose all the right words, to make sure the message was perfect, then give it to someone more proficient than me in sharing it. It was the win-win-win I needed, but there was one crucial aspect still lacking: my confidence. Yes, through all the behind-the-scenes work, I protected myself from taking a fearless step into the spotlight with my own voice. This presented a problem: if I wanted to climb the professional ladder, I would have to be more comfortable with public speaking. I jumped in head first but quickly found that since I had not resolved the confidence gap from years past, I again entered into that downward spiraling mental state that jumbled all of my words. Even worse, what I shared was not reflective of the true me, though that was still a big mystery at the time. As a result, I didn’t connect as authentically through my speeches, and I failed to find a peaceful, confident balance before, during, and after each opportunity. Would I ever get it right?
Credit: NCTV17
Needless to say, when Speaking the Right Words made its presence known via The 72 Names of God, Yehuda Berg’s message carried a lot of weight: “Words have power. They ignite spiritual forces that influence the events and circumstances of our lives…However, because of free will, these truths are concealed from our rational minds by an innate, egotistic narrow-mindedness toward all things metaphysical. Thus, it’s easy for us to disregard and dismiss the power and influence of a spoken word and, along with it, responsibility!” (129). No wonder it takes me forever to post! Every word seems to hold so much significance, and if I’m focused too much on gaining power, I get jumbled just like when I have to make a speech. Even after identifying and addressing my fears of being wrong and of failing, I still find myself reaching for anything else other than the words I know in my heart to be true when they feel so weighed down. Especially when I move away from the computer and take my words out into the public. So what’s the trick then? Is there something I missed in one of the seminars on how to be a better public speaker? Berg speaks out: “Our words either emerge from our ego or from the Light. When we allow the Light to talk on our behalf, our speech fills others with hope, blessings, love, and inspiration” (129). Oops. Though grades gave me an indication of how impactfuI (or not) my speeches were back in school, I haven’t been asking friends, family, or acquaintances to fill out post-conversation surveys that indicate if my speech made them feel this uplifted. I suppose I’ll just have to take their words for it.
Liar, Liar
While I’ve split the seams on my share of pants, I’m shocked that none of them have combusted considering the amount of lies that have poured out of my mouth over the years. Though they may not have felt like the right words as they came out, they certainly were the “right now” words as they served their purpose: to hide the truth. And what was that truth? Geez…I wish I could pinpoint it. It seems that, through all the lying and deceit, I ventured further away from whatever my truth was. I hid from my fears, my experiences, my life. Lying protected me, in a way, from having to face any semblance of reality. Ignorance is bliss. And each little fib served as a tool to sustain that facade. I compartmentalized people in order to manage my falsified narratives, feeling it tearing me apart but ultimately deciding I had no other option. I was a fraud, a phony. I knew it, still it made me furious to be called out by anyone who was able to piece enough of my inconsistencies and loose ends together. Liar! At what point did those “right now” words collapse around me like a house of cards? When did the facade of the truth crash down?
It was Easter, and I was surrounded by strangers. OK, they weren’t exactly strangers; they were my family. But they were distant, unaware. It wasn’t that they didn’t know I just had my ex arrested for domestic abuse. I’m sure everyone had heard the news. What they didn’t know was the long string of failed relationships prior that lead me to this low point. Or that I was just as much a perpetrator as I was a victim. Or how my struggles with identifying and embracing my soul made me self destruct. How could they know? I didn’t tell them. I wanted to scream out. I wanted to curl into a ball on the floor and cry. But I was paralyzed. I sat on the couch and watched the flurry of activity happen around me: the brunch, the Easter egg hunt, the conversation. In my mind, all the lies I had told—the ones that spanned back to childhood—clouded me and demanded explanation. I felt like I couldn’t trust anyone, but it was really that I couldn’t trust myself. It seemed like whenever I opened up my mouth, a new lie was formed. A false narrative took flight. What did I gain from it? A bigger, flimsier ego; when exposed, I was forced to cover my tracks and make sure no one would dig any deeper to discover the truth: I was inauthentic. And when I tried to speak out after the deception was revealed, it became even more painful as I saw the disappointment, frustration, hurt, and confusion from those who thought we were “close.”
Credit: NCTV17
The Silent Instigator
Silence is golden, yes? Especially when we don’t have anything nice to say. We protect others by not divulging the entire truth, opting instead to self-censor as a means of maintaining peace, sanity, and love. While exploring the depth of my silence in relationships, I discovered another added benefit: silence grants us power. I remember back in high school, the acting teacher my sophomore year labeled me a “silent instigator” to a classmate who was continually getting in trouble for responding to/laughing at something I said. Though I wasn’t exactly “silent,” the teacher saw that I understood my audience and knew the right verbal buttons to press; moreover, I knew when to deliver the cue so as not to get caught myself but instead leave my classmate vulnerable to bursting out at an inopportune moment. It never resulted in any detentions for either of us, nor were our grades negatively affected. Still, the situation helped me see I had control over words in such a way as to manipulate others stealthily; this came with the power of making others feel guilty, embarrassed, or upset by pinpointing those vulnerable words and delivering them in a hurtful way.
I’ve shined a light through this extended journey paper on some of the more heinous words I’ve uttered to those I love. Obviously, the power dynamic of silence is not beneficial in any of my relationships; I can’t say the words were ever inspiration or hopeful when the truth was hidden. They just dragged the other person down. You see, I knew how to use words to get others to open up by asking the right questions. While they shared, I was quiet. I had access to other people’s secrets, fears, and vulnerabilities while I remained a mystery. By guarding my truth from view through the veil of silence, I had the power to control the peace, sanity, and love within my relationships. If/when someone would question my silence or press me to answer a question truthfully, I would abuse my power by lashing out with daggers for words, stabbing those getting too close in the front and back. Looking back, it’s no wonder I felt so alone; I was severing every relationship that was on the brink of making me vulnerable. As a result, those around me stopped sharing as freely, making conversation a series of hurdles to jump over while trust got trampled underneath.
Credit: NCTV17
Honesty is the best policy
If you’ve noticed, neither lying nor silence instilled much hope, blessings, love or inspiration in my past conversations; in fact, one could say that I went out of my way to tear down others with my words. As you know if you’ve followed along on my journey, I spent 45 days on a solo road trip across the country and back; during that time, I spoke to maybe 10 people. It was a necessary quiet that allowed me to rediscover the voice I had held back expressing for so long. Not the one entangled in manipulation and self-preservation; rather, the one that allowed my heart to shine. But! How would it be voiced in public? I promised myself I would be a more open and honest person upon my return, but when I tried to share the words that resonated with my heart immediately, I found it was more complicated than just letting it out. Honesty may be the best policy, but can we all handle the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth? Especially if it makes us vulnerable? I felt like I was hitting larger roadblocks the more I divulged—others either didn’t want to speak their truth or didn’t want to necessarily hear mine. To be honest, it was discouraging, and I found myself saying lies or staying silent to appease those who seemed uncomfortable; speaking out began to feel so wrong.
A very wise friend and I were grabbing lunch a while back when she shared her thoughts on our first get together months before outside of seeing each other in big groups. It wasn’t much different from the situation we were in at the time; the restaurant, day and time were the only real changes. She made note, though, of what stuck out in her mind most about that initial meeting: my unwillingness to speak out. She was exactly right—that first time we met for lunch, I put up a guard around my fears, my experiences, my life because I was afraid of how I might be perceived for my whole truth, my “right” words. Her willingness to open up made me feel at ease to share my heart, creating more harmony in our friendship and opening the door to better conversation down the road. I hear Carl R. Rogers’ words from A Way of Being, reminding me that “With these close friends, men and women, I can share any aspect of my self—the painful, joyful, frightening, crazy, insecure, egotistical, self-deprecating feelings I have. I can share fantasies and dreams. Similarly, my friends share deeply with me. These experiences I find very enriching” (84). So what is the true power of my words, then, and how do I determine if I’m having a positive impact with them when I speak out?
I recently went rummaging through paperwork and came across a file folder full of written notes from friends and family members. Some of the words are short and sweet, some are long and sentimental. All of the words mean a great deal to me; they bring me hope, blessings, love, and inspiration. While rereading the notes, I recognized why I hesitated to do something more with them than just stack them in a folder: I felt I didn’t deserve them. No, these words were meant for an authentic person, one who didn’t lie or stay silent for so long. Many of their words overlapped with my wrong words, nearly negating their power and souring their beauty. Before tossing them back into the folder to avoid the feelings of shame and regret for another few months, I took on a different perspective. I recognized that despite my imperfections in communicating my whole self in an honest, uplifting way, I had spoken the words to others that helped them through their struggles doing the same. Though none of us had it figured out completely, we were making steady progress toward speaking the words that resonated most with our hearts and sharing the vulnerability that separated us from fully accepting ourselves. It was just the word I needed: patience. Yes, I believe patience is the key to speaking the right words, because in reality, we are just learning how to put the syllables together. Too often, I expect myself to know all the words to describe my life experiences and then express them unabashedly with everyone I meet to inspire more hope and love. Instead, this creates more anger and frustration when I’m not able to meet my own standards.
Rogers may say it best: “I have come to prize each emerging facet of my experience, of myself. I would like to treasure the feelings of anger and tenderness and shame and hurt and love and anxiety and giving and fear—all the positive and negative reactions that crop up. I would like to treasure the ideas that emerge—foolish, creative, bizarre, sound, trivial—all part of me. I like the behavioral impulses—appropriate, crazy, achievement-oriented, sexual, murderous. I want to accept all of these feelings, ideas, and impulses as an enriching part of me. I don’t expect to act on all of them, but when I accept them all, I can be more real; my behavior, therefore, will be much more appropriate to the immediate situation” (43). In the end, who can say what words are right? For me, I know the most authentic words exist in my heart and are just waiting for the moment to be shared with the universe. Patiently, I wait until I’m granted an opportunity to speak with others who may or may not be experiencing similar challenges all in an effort to grow together. This honesty is not only liberating, it’s unforgettable.