the power of a name

[Guest guest]

I was looking back over old writings recently. Something I shared on my blog

last year caught my attention this morning. It had to do with being called a

" name. " I am surprised at how relevant it still is today. For just last night I

took a phone call from my nada, in which I was called a name, the name that

rhymes with " witch. " I think she flung the name my way, just before my she hung

up, because I would not answer a question without knowing the reason for it. I

was called the name because I insisted on full autonomy.

But I've been called other names, that were far more specific and painful.

Experience showed me the mistruth of those sing-song words, " Sticks and stones

will break my bones, but names will never hurt me. " Right.

For most of my adult years, I've felt a secret sensitivity about an identity I

was given in childhood: my nada repeatedly called me a leech. I finally shared

this ugly imagery with a trusted friend a couple of years ago. She was just

finishing raising two teenage daughters herself. I heard the empathy in her

voice, when she shared her very different image--she saw her girls as having

gone through a phase, caterpillars becoming butterflies. I can laugh now as I

remember a book title I saw a few years back. I think to myself, " A caterpillar

eats all the green shoots, and leaves. " I too left when I was ready for

metamorphosis, the year I turned eighteen.

But my mom sees that as abandonment, and only knows how to fight back and hurt

me with her words.

She still clings to odd notions about my nature and her prize description,

" leech, " still comes up from time to time.

Not long ago, I took time to clean my office and found an old draft of a letter

that I had planned to send her. It stunned me to realize my mom still has this

idea of me, even as recent as last year, as evidenced by the focus of my letter.

Through my own letter, I was trying to put that (thirty year old) " leech "

concept aside once and for all, and help us both be more honest.

In it I tell my nada this, " As you can imagine, I don't like being called a

leech. It is incorrect speech. I was a person being raised by you who had needs

and wanted help in getting those needs met. " As I am already hard on myself, I

am very grateful to see my own words in writing today and they are good enough

for me (even if I never did send the letter).

Today I realize that I can only be honest with myself, and expect NO change in

attitude from my nada, even when I speak my truth with love. It is enough that

my words help ME to change.

I realize I have struggled with words used against me, taking them very

seriously, for too long a time. I am grateful to be able to identify the

distortion in the inventory my mom has done. Today I find it easier not to

fight with her about what should be MY inventory.

May we all heal.

Smitty

“All right, every day ain't going to be the best day of your life, don't worry

about that. If you stick to it you hold the possibility open that you will have

better days.” Wendall Berry