When Words Become Weapons

We often talk about abuse in terms of physical harm, but what about the wounds we can’t see? The ones inflicted by words.

At its core, verbal abuse is far more than just angry outbursts. It’s a calculated pattern of communication that includes speaking in an angry, demeaning manner, relentless name-calling, and constant criticism. It can be overt and explosive, or subtle and insidious, chipping away at you over time.

The impact of these weapons are devastating. There not meant to guide or correct; there designed to chip away at your spirit, creating deep-seated insecurities, leaving you with perpetually hurt feelings, and eroding your self-esteem until it’s almost non-existent. The insidious nature of constant criticism, in particular, is like a slow, suffocating squeeze, tightening around my sense of self until I could barely recognize it.

I experienced the pernicious nature of verbal abuse firsthand, long before I truly understood its definition. My first marriage, like many relationships, was a tapestry woven with both threads of joy and profound challenge. While there are moments I truly cherish and hold dear to this day- memories that weren’t washed away by the tide of difficulty— it was also consistently marked by a current of belittling words and angry exchanges. Then there was the name-calling, those ugly labels that burrowed deep, confirming every insecurity I didn’t know I had. These weren’t fleeting remarks, they were consistent demeaning declarations that slowly, imperceptibly, began to shape how I saw myself.

The relentless toll of this took an immense toll. In a desperate attempt to find some footing, to protect myself, I too began to fight back. My own words became weapons, at times just as sharp and hurtful as his. This wasn’t a victory; it was a testament of how deeply the well has been poisoned, pulling me into a cycle where I mirrored the very behavior that was destroying me. It’s ironic, perhaps, that even today , he sometimes takes credit for the strength I found , suggesting I grew because of him. And in a way, he’s not entirely wrong. But the truth is, it was through the crucible of the verbal abuse he inflicted, and the subsequent fight to reclaim my self-confidence and battle out of low self-esteem, that my true resilience was forged. The strength came from within, cultivated as I fought my way out of the internal battle those experiences ignited, not gifted by the challenges themselves.

The cycle of verbal abuse, whether overt or subtly corrosive, fundamentally alerts your perception of yourself and the world around you. For years, the belittling words and constant criticism I endured became deeply embedded in, shaping my sense of self-worth and my ability to build healthy boundaries. It was a long, arduous journey to disarm those ‘weapons’ and reclaim my voice.

If you find yourself in a similar situation, where words are being used to diminish, control, or hurt you, please know this: You are not alone, and it is not your fault. This isn’t just ‘the way things are’ or ‘tough love’, “it’s abuse, often a reflection of their own insecurities.” Pay attention to how someone’s consistently makes you feel: Do they lift you up, or tear you down? Do they respect your thoughts and feelings, or dismiss them?

Your worth is not determined by the labels others try to stick on you, nor by their harsh critiques. Your value is inherent, too precious to be chipped away by weaponized words. It took me decades to truly internalize this, to understand that the external abuse often stems from an internal lack of boundaries and self-love. But I am here to tell you now, with conviction:

‘Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can no longer hurt me.’

You are so much more than someone else’s opinions of you. You are strong. You are worthy. And you are resilient. You deserve a life where words are used to build, not destroy. My journey to truly live by that truth was an awakening, a path I’ll share more about soon.

The verbal battle was just one chapter. The journey through ‘Marriage, Men, and Me’ has many more turns, some even more unexpected. My next post will lead you through a period marked by unimaginable grief, the hard decisions of letting go, and the complex entry of a new presence, setting the stage for different invaluable lessons learned. Join me for ‘When the World Fell Apart: Grief, Bars, and New Beginnings’ — coming soon.