Words have power. More power than people realize.
Please, it’s only a word, right? At least that’s how most people would see it.
Growing up, the word became heinous to me.
One word, along with the actions of a man that I was supposed to trust, would ultimately change the trajectory of my life. And that was difficult for me to comprehend through my childhood because I was raised to know that being polite was something that you should always be. And it is something that I have always tried to be and teach my daughter to be too.
But I’ve never considered the word “please” to be courteous. Through adulthood, I detested having requests imposed upon me and being told how I was supposed to feel, and the word “please” represented that to me. It was something that reminded me of my childhood and when I was forced to perform acts that I didn’t want to do. Acts that were abusive. Cruel and that no child should ever have to experience. And yet, being courteous is a life-long staple. We know we should always say “please” and “thank you.” It’s common courtesy and the decent thing to do.
AS A CHILD, I WAS SUBMISSIVE. I HAD NO SAY. I WAS POWERLESS.
Please became a term of begging that was instilled in my impressionable mind; it was a word that was used to control me, and even thinking back about it, it gives me an uneasy feeling in my stomach some 45+ years later. But it’s what happens when you’re shaped by a world where there’s no safety because it was taken away from you. As a child, I was submissive. I had no say. I was powerless. I was forced to keep a secret that stayed with me for decades and altered my reality and general perception of trusting relationships. Something I have had difficulty with in adulthood.
In therapy, I have learned the concept of reparenting affirmations. To train my brain to look at ways to put a positive spin on words. But I still struggle with the word “please.” Thinking back, I see myself only ever using the word when I feel distressed. As a way to get my point across. To have the conversation come to a close. Like when I was forced to say please as a child. As if I wanted what was being done to me to actually happen. I didn’t. But I had no power to stop it.
Even away from the abuse, my parents would tell me to say please, and I would resist and get scolded for not being polite. My insides were on fire because I couldn’t tell them why I hated the word. Or even tell them what was happening to me. Instead, I would internalize it all and silently scream inside my head. I wished that they would see what was going on. They never did. It was hidden so well that the only way anybody could ever know was if I spoke up. But I never did. I hated myself for that for a really long time.
Words have so much power. They can build you up, but they can also destroy you. A six-letter word has destroyed me for far too long. It’s about time it stops.