Never underestimate the power of your words or actions. With them you can literally destroy lives.
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Can you feel that?
That little tugging sensation in your heart?
You feel the rage inside you. You sense it straining to escape.
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You’re not sure what, but something is pulling you to act. Not necessarily in a “save-the-world” manner (though that would be cool), but to give someone some tough love with your speech, stare at them condescendingly, or heck, even spank them.
You feel the rage inside you. You sense it straining to escape. You feel your job is to set it free, on that stranger in “desperate” need of it.
And so you act.
You tell them they’re a waste of space under heaven. You stare at them in a manner that could only mean “you’re doomed.” Maybe you just give them a concerned, disapproving look, all the while telling yourself you’re doing the right thing.
But are you?
“Yes,” a little voice whispers inside you. “This person is very, very wrong. What is this world turning into?”
The accident that changed our lives
I grew up in a loving household. Fortunately. Looking back, I don’t wish I could change anything about my upbringing. Especially about my parents, the way they lived their lives, or the way they treated us.
The problem was, to onlookers, and sad to say, some relatives, our family was run by a “controlling” woman—my mum.
Five years after their marriage, on their way home from a wedding, a drunk driver hit my parents’ motorbike. They both had bruises, and dad fared worse, or so everyone thought.
He had first degree burns from the exhaust pipe, bruised elbows, internal bleeding, and you’d be forgiven for thinking he’d have to have a limb amputated because he had diabetes. That his wounds healed was nothing short of miraculous.
We were happy that mum’s wounds healed faster. But instead of getting better, she began experiencing agonizing pain. Simple tasks took forever, and sometimes she’d be bedridden the whole day.
For the next 11 months, she underwent series of tests and scans, answered hundreds of questions from healthcare professionals, and actively researched her ordeal. The culprit?
Chronic pain.
For mum, the worst part about having chronic pain isn’t how people think her pain is imaginary or exaggerated. Even doctors told her there’s no reason for the chronic pain, so “it cannot be that bad.”
In my culture, even when the woman works to support the family, if she gets home the same time the man does, the man can afford to watch television the rest of the day …
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It’s not the frustration, the anger, the depression. After all, a doctor once told her “it’s all in her head.” If only “her head” could explain those feelings.
It’s not even how her day can go from the sublime to the ridiculous in a moment. If that can be called “miraculous,” then she’s had more than her fair share of miracles.
No, the worst part is that chronic pain is a personal experience and cannot always be measured like other medical conditions. Not by an X-ray. Not by a blood test. Not by a scan.
Oh! The constant urge to prove to friends, relatives, or doctors, that your pain is real.
“You’re whipped!”
Dad was the sole breadwinner in the family. He often left for his shop as early as 5.30 a.m. and would be back by noon. So he almost always had time for his wife and children.
In my culture, even when the woman works to support the family, if she gets home the same time the man does, the man can afford to watch television the rest of the day, whilst the woman takes care of all of the housework. Dad would surely get some respite if he acted that way, for he was the breadwinner.
But he chose to be different.
Before getting home from his shop, on most days he would stop by the market to get foodstuff and/or groceries. It would spare mum the trouble. But whenever he’d try to bargain for fair prices, sellers (mostly women) would curse and abuse him.
“Let your wife come by herself, she’d know how to bargain better than what you’re doing. Stop being selfish,” they would say.
Depending on the meal and its complexity, dad would prepare all the ingredients (or they would do it together), so that cooking would be easier for mum. She loves cooking, and only being completely bedridden can stop her from cooking.
Dad’s cousin (female) once visited us, and it was one of those very rare occasions dad was cooking. I still remember it because I was with dad in the kitchen. Mum was having a bad day, and she had gotten out of bed barely an hour before dad’s cousin arrived. Meanwhile, mum stayed with her in the sitting room, chatting with her, while dad cooked.
Dad kept asking mum what to do, not because he couldn’t prepare the meal, but because mum had her way of preparing, and enjoying it, and he wanted to prepare it that way for her. And though I was present, helping him out, I had no idea what to do either. So mum kept giving him (us) instructions.
Well, dad’s cousin went back with the “report” that dad was a slave in his own house. Nope, she didn’t even say he was pampering mum, or turning her into a spoiled kid. Not that it would have sounded any better. But she called him a freakin’ slave. Ouch! Such ignominy!
Or when dad would bend to help mum wear her shoes. Even in public places (mum loves taking off her shoes whether they’re comfortable or not.) It spared her the pain, as bending caused her unbelievable agony. Dad knew that. But many strangers would look at him with judgmental eyes that shouted, “You’re whipped.”
The gift of tragedy
In between learning how to treat women, and taking action anyway, because people will always make critical, damming remarks, I’ve learned something else.
Do not judge others.
The only way you can judge rightly is if you’re aware of every circumstances in a person’s life leading to the point you think his actions are criticizable.
And for a stranger, that’s simply impossible.
Don’t think “I’ve experienced that before” or “it’s not that bad” to have warranted such action. People react differently to challenges.
In your experience, it may have been a “this is nothing serious” reaction to you. For someone else, it’s a “this pain can kill me” feeling.
If you are feeling hopeful and optimistic even with your problems; someone else will feel anxious and depressed.
You may be Stoic in showing pain, others will be dramatic. It doesn’t mean you’re very strong, neither those it make the latter weaklings. Cultural influences or upbringing may have played its part.
Are you judging someone else for their “mistake?” You’ve probably made worse mistakes, but you got away with them because they escaped notice.
The humane words and actions of people who chose kindness over judgment helped dad stay resilient. They helped him stay sane.
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Mum eventually learned to ignore judgmental remarks, but they caused her severe depression and anxiety in the early days of her ailment. Certain forms of treatment and therapy have made her pain more manageable these days. But before now, she probably feared dad would someday get tired of putting up with her and leave her all alone.
She was wrong.
Dad was faithful to the end—his death. He was strong-willed, and no amount of criticism could stop him from doing the right thing—treating his wife with kindness.
But dad’s resilience wasn’t just because he was strong-willed. He wasn’t a perfect man. The critical remarks hurled at him on his wife’s account were enough to break even grown men.
When he was at the market, some women would offer to buy foodstuff for him, so he could avoid the judgmental remarks of other sellers. Most of it stopped though as dad became a regular face in the marketplace. Other sellers chose to respond kindly even when dad’s bargain was ridiculous.
Earlier in the day before dad’s cousin arrived, a neighbor’s wife told dad her husband learned a lot about how to treat her from dad, and he’s a completely better husband for it.
In public places, some people actually stopped to sympathize with mum, understanding that only an ailment (though invisible) would make her need help to wear shoes.
The humane words and actions of people who chose kindness over judgment helped dad stay resilient. They helped him stay sane. And for dad, sometimes a kind word or action from a stranger was the best gift he would receive the whole day.
Never underestimate the power of your words or actions. I know it’s horribly cliché, but it can literally destroy lives.
Next time you feel the words straining to escape, to pass judgment on someone else, what will you do?
My guess: I don’t know. But I believe you’ll think carefully before making any decision.
And it won’t have anything to do with judging anyone.
“The art of reading between the lines is a lifelong quest of the wise.” — Shannon L. Alder
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This post is republished on Medium.
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