So, I wanted to address language and how I use it. Pearl’s mantra was, “if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.” We weren’t critical of people and we certainly didn’t point out their mistakes or flaws. She lived and died by this ideal and it is inscribed inside my head with permanence. Sometimes, when I’m having particularly nasty thoughts, I can hear her voice in my head.
The thing is, I love words. I’m obsessed with them. More specifically, I love how word placement can subtly change the meaning of a sentence. I love how synonyms work, and with the identification of each new one, I find a more specific way of conveying an idea. Synonyms are cerebral tidbits comprised of nuance. This fascinates me.
I spent my childhood watching how Pearl was treated because of her mental illness. People talked to her differently, many used pejorative terms, including my dad, and society was generally dismissive of her. The thing is, she had an explosively high IQ, was exceptionally well-read, and she was eloquent. Even when she was in the middle of a complete mental breakdown, she still spoke with purpose, precision, and deliberately chosen words. There was never a doubt about what was reverberating around Pearl’s noggin. I may not have liked it, agreed with it, and it might have terrified me…but I knew what she was thinking. Always. Her robust communication style was accelerated by a deficient filter.
Though, as my intelligence and word bank also grew, I saw that many people in her midst were too stupid to understand what she said. She could tell a person off, call them the pond scum, and she sounded whimsical and chipper. Idiots. They’d smile and say ill-informed things like, “thank you,” or “I agree.” And by stupid people, I speak of mean people. Pearl loved all that walked the earth, except assholes. In her world, an asshole was someone who was either mean, classist, racist, made derogatory jokes at others’ expense, exploited others, didn’t like animals, used pesticides, or some combination thereof. There’s more to add to this list, but I don’t have the time or real estate.
I realize the irony of this situation. Pearl was mentally ill, monumentally so. When she was in a good place, she would take a person out for looking at her child or dog the wrong way. I remember someone called our 4-legged friend, Ding Dong, a “stupid dog” on a walk. I honestly thought I’d be seeing the inside of a police car that day. She stood up for the weak, the poor, the ill, the mute.
When Pearl was in an episode, she became the asshole. But that’s a story for another day.
Because of my mom, I am very cautious of the words I choose. I use them with deliberate intent. Knowing that differing cultures exist, I’m also particularly cautious of appropriating language in a way that is, well, inappropriate. Code switching is helpful, though I would never cross the linguistic boundary that exists for different races, cultures, religions, etc. It’s not my place. Admittedly, because language evolves over time and so do cultural norms, I make a mistake. But, once explained and I understand how my words were out-of line, I won’t do it again.
But when I’m speaking about myself or my situation, all bets are off. Maybe it’s negative self talk. Or the inability to find a precise-enough word to suit my liking. In those circumstances, I’ll throw whatever word is the easiest and seems to blanket the meaning I search. For instance, I detest the word, “crazy.” I hate how it has been appropriated and used, especially by mentally healthy people, to talk about those with mental health considerations. I would never, not in a million years, use it against someone…except myself. I use it freely when I’m talking in my head.
The thing is, I don’t know if this practice is a good thing. Am I reinforcing negative cultural behaviors because I call myself nuts or crazy? To myself, probably not. But in this cathartic opus I’m crafting and the world can read…I don’t know. Am I giving word vomiters, those that walk around using idioms as weapons against other people, the green light to use the same words I do even though I’m only pointing them at myself and my situation? Worse yet, is I don’t want anyone else engaging in negative self talk. This concerns me. Deeply. Why? Because it would bother Pearl.
I use these words – crazy, nuts, asshole, stupid, idiot, moron, and a few others – with such fluency that to remove them from my vocabulary about myself or my situation might stunt me. And yet, I would shiv a bitch for calling one of my BFFs crazy. There are only 3 so at least my punishment won’t be that harsh.
As I journey through this experience of self-discovery, healing, and acceptance, I find myself preoccupied by the little connections I’ve made in my head. Apparently, negative self-talk is a thing with scientific proof of its detriment. I will consider the removal of these fleabites when I’m better.
Right now, though, I don’t have enough vapor in my head to work on sifting through a thesaurus.
