Many of us were taught as children that “Sticks and stones may break our bones but words/names will never hurt us.” For some reason over the decades we have ended up with a couple of generations who have been taught that what someone says is worse than getting physically beat to a pulp because words causes “mental trauma.”
I believe this is one of the reasons we are having so many debates about freedom of speech.
When I was a kid in public school, if a student died or was in a horrible accident, administration would typically have a bulletin board memorial with pictures and things on it and we would move on with life. Today if a student dies or is in an accident they ship in a cadre of “counselors” and advise students to take some days off to “grieve” for someone they did not know personally. Mental “health” is stressed and they are encouraged to “feel the pain.” This can go on for weeks and even months! The students are encouraged to be *weak*. I know that may sound harsh, but hey, death is part of life. Sometimes people die. It’s sad, but it doesn’t have to completely ruin our lives for months (in regards to an acquaintance especially. Someone we didn’t know or wasn’t part of our family. Family is different, of course).
We also have a couple of generations of people who have been taught to be paranoid. They’ve been conditioned to think that what someone says about them is the end of the world. That if someone doesn’t like them and speaks behind their backs there must be something wrong with them. “Why doesn’t so and so like me?”
Um… who cares why?
There was a time in my life when I fell for some of this paranoia. I would come home from work thinking that because someone looked at me the wrong way I did something that offended them or that maybe they “didn’t like me.” If someone called me a nickname (and I do loathe nicknames) I would take it personally and sit and brood about it. I’ll never forget something my Mom said to me when I was venting about the way I was treated by someone I didn’t know and who was trying to make me feel uncomfortable for even being alive. Mom said, “This person must be unhappy with their life and maybe they are going through some things you don’t even know about.” That allowed me to look at things from another point of view. To put myself in the person’s shoes, so-to-speak. To realize they were lashing out from a position of weakness… their *own* weakness, not mine.
Weak, unhappy people take out their own misery on others and that abuse may come in the form of “names”, rumors, “theories” and the like. We must remember that a personal attack typically can only come from someone we care about and who cares about us. If they aren’t in those categories, typically they are just heaping abuse on us because of their own miserable life. Especially if we have a joy and zeal for life that others find threatening.
I finally figured it out one day. I’m not sure what happened but a lightbulb came on. I realized, “wow, I’m *choosing* to let this stuff bother me. I am allowing people that couldn’t care less about me determine the level of happiness I can have in my life. It took time, but I started shrugging off sideways glances, nicknames, and “ribbing,” I started ignoring conversations and information that I really didn’t need to be part of.
It was a smashing success! Oh yes, once in a great while I still let what people say get under my skin, but I shrug it off easily and move on with life. I decided that the *only* people who I’m concerned about “what they think of me” and “what they say about me” are people who love me. Co-workers, strangers, politicians, monsters on the world’s stage, neighbors, etc… nah, it’s not worth my time. This does not mean that I am arrogant, that I would treat people badly, or that I would do things that others would find repugnant. It just means that as long as I’m living a decent life and treating others with respect and courtesy I really don’t care what “they” say about me or what I read or listen to about people who are similar to me (religious or political beliefs, moral beliefs, etc).
People who dish out jabs, thoughtless words, and “inconsiderate so-called hate speech” are *not* sitting in their homes at night thinking about us. They could care less. Why should we give them more attention than they deserve by sitting around stewing about whatever someone says? It’s insane. We choose to let people and their speech offend us. It is completely within our power to ignore them and to have the confidence in ourselves and in the way we live to say, “oh well” and move on.
We can do that with other speech that offends us as well. We can turn it off, turn the channel, or unsubscribe to information we don’t agree with or that makes us feel paranoid or unloved. No one is forcing our ears open and making us listen to things that make us *feel* uncomfortable or make us question ourselves. The power is completely within our hands to traverse through life with our head held high, knowing in our hearts that we are living the best life we can.
So yes, it’s true: Sticks and stones may break our bones, but words will never hurt us. Unless we allow them to. It’s our choice.
What someone calls us, says about us, or thinks about us (quite frankly) is none of our business. Unless we make it our business.
Yeah... I had to stop listening to shows that spend hours going into bullshit that I know is just a trick.
There's so much half bullshit out there in alt media and it helps to realize that they can be idiots as much as the normies.
This reminds me of a story from my last workplace. All adult males from 50ish to 70ish tears of age. 2 guys, call them Butch and Billy, despised each other. The only thing they hated, more than each other, was me. See, they considered me a brownnoser because I got along very well with the owner of the 25-employee company, ''Kenny.'' At one point, I guess it kind of bothered me that B&B hated me. Then one early morning, unbeknownst to B&B, I overheard them bad mouthing me over their CB radios. They were calling me some pretty nasty things that I won't elucidate here. After pondering all that for a few minutes, a switch flipped in my head and I had a little chuckle to myself. As luck would have it, or by divine intervention(?), at the end of that long day B,B and myself all happened to return to the shop around the same time. As I was walking towards the shop exit, I took a slightly circuitous route which took me past where Butch and Billy were having a chat. As I passed by, without breaking stride, I interrupted them and cheerfully said something to the effect of, ''Hi guys, you know it really warms my heart, after all these years, to see you getting along so well!'' As they stood there speechless (which was a rarity for either of those big mouths) I zipped thru the exit door and as it shut behind me laughed quietly to myself! Rob D, thanks for this article and for reminding me of that classic moment.