DON'T. CAN'T. LIMITED. UNABLE.
Re-read the words in title and ask yourself: are the words negative or positive?
Your first reaction may have been different than your second.
Maybe the first time you read them you heard a family member reprimanding you. Or someone telling you what you’re capable of—or what you’re not (in their opinion).
But maybe on your second read your heart and mind whispered something like, “Given everything in my life, I can’t commit to X,” or “My priorities have shifted and I’m unable to take on any new projects right now.” And you felt a sense of relief, or you smiled at the power of your personal agency.
That’s the thing about words: they all carry power, but they only hold the power we assign to them.
Authors often become authors because of a love affair with words. We understand and respect their weight, so it’s not uncommon to find sentences like this one from Lindsey Kelk’s novel, Love Me Do finding their way onto the page:
I think these sentences struck me for two reasons: (1) We quickly internalize the words spoken to us and often start believing them, whether true or not. And (2) We currently live in a world where untrue and unkind words are being hurled at people every day.
Let’s start with the first one. Have you ever been told something like: you’re too loud, too opinionated, too easily distracted, too weird, too different, not enough like your sister/too much like your brother, or that you’d succeed if only you did X—or didn’t do Y?
It’s hard to believe anyone has made it through life without hearing something similar—particularly if you identify as a woman.
The truth is, what another person says about you is often more about them—their filters, their outlook, their current level of happiness, etc. But … and it’s a big but … it’s almost impossible not to internalize some of those statements, especially if you’ve heard them repeatedly.
And so, I’ll say it again: words only have the power we assign to them.
If someone tells me I’m not smart, I shrug it off because I’m proud of my intelligence. But if someone says, “You’ll never be successful because you follow too many bright, shiny objects,” I might let that one burrow in and fester—because my nontraditional career path has already made me question my ability to stay focused and “on track.”
Those words wound because they land on a spot that’s already soft.
But that’s the real work of growing into ourselves, isn’t it? Learning to trust the voice we know is true and gently questioning the ones that aren’t. When someone labels us, critiques us, or tosses a careless comment our way, we get to pause and ask: Is that true?
If it doesn’t feel like it is, we don’t have to carry it.
If it stings because it touches a tender spot, we can notice it and remind ourselves that softness doesn’t equal weakness—it means we’re human.
Now, about #2. It’s important to remember that our own words have the power to wound (or uplift). Because of that let’s (before sharing our thoughts and opinions) pause and ask ourselves: Will these words bring harm or help? Is this about me or them? How can I share this respectfully and with grace? That pause is where compassion sneaks in.
Lindsey Kelk wrote: “We had to be careful which ones we let in.” And I’d add, we also have to be careful which ones we let out.
So, starting today, let’s try to get better at . . .
· Filtering in only the words that align with the truest version of who we are while also
· Filtering out anything that diminishes someone else, even unintentionally.
Next time a word feels heavy, ask yourself: Do I want to carry this?
And next time you offer a word, ask: Would I want someone else to carry this?
The stories we tell can all too quickly become the lives we live. Let’s tell better ones—to ourselves and others.
Per usual, I’ve included a few journal prompts if you want to dive into this further. And if no one has told you yet today . . . you’re a pretty freakin’ awesome human! (that’s definitely something to filter in)
Journal Prompts
1. Think of a word or phrase that someone has spoken to you that still lingers. Write about whether it reflects truth about you—or if it’s more about the other person’s filters and experiences. What happens when you question its accuracy?
2. What’s a word or comment that tends to wound you because it hits a tender place? Explore why that area feels soft, and what words of your own could help soothe and strengthen it.
3. Write about a recent time when you were about to say something but paused instead. What shifted because you chose different words—or chose silence? How can you be more intentional with the words you “let out”?
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