Recently, I was respectfully approached about my spirituality and the subject of curses came up. I was questioned about curses and whether or not I cursed people. “Are you a “black witch?”
I answered (and followed up with a blog post: 10 Questions About Paganism You Were Afraid to Ask) that I did in fact curse people, although not very often. And I also explained that I did not subscribe to the further labeling of the title “witch” with color adjectives.
At the time of that interview and when I composed that blog post, I defined a curse as a sort of “justice on the cosmic level.” What I meant by a “curse,” was the sending of a powerful brew of ill will to someone who I felt really deserved it. I explained that I believed that the human system of justice, for the most part, takes care of most injustice for me, so breaking out my cauldron and filling it with the eyes of some poor little newts really wasn’t necessary most of the time. I was so sure that I didn’t curse people very often. At that time, I didn’t take into account that words, like things, have great power. I want to believe that I am always aware of my words and the power they have. I want to believe that I use them with a specific purpose and clear intention. Yet, after some reflection I found a collection of words which sap strength, berates, belittles and…most certainly, curses the receiver of these words. These are some of my personal and most insidious Accidental Talismans of the Verbal Kind.
1. “Please and Thank you!”
I am very aware that the words “please” and “thank you” are usually the opposite of a curse, they are a blessing. Separately, they usually invoke in me a feeling of delight. These words allow me to show my gratitude (and good manners). I heard them used together in a sentence the first time to my son from one of his babysitters. I found it jarring, and though I didn’t know why, I found it disconcerting. Then someone else said it to me, someone who on numerous occasions, very much wanted to make it clear to me that she had power over me. I found the turn of phrase troubling…almost threatening. I was confused, she said, please after all…and…thank you…why were my instincts telling me something was wrong?When things bother me I turn to my love of research. I did research on the word “please.” It comes from a longer phrase “if you please.” I took this to mean that use of the word “please” is a question: “Would it please you, to assist me?” This suggests that to comply with “please” the person being asked to help finds it to their liking to do so. It’s not about my pleasure when I say “please,” it’s about the pleasure of the person I’m addressing. I have no right to expect anything because when I say “please” I am acknowledging that the person I am asking has a choice. The person being asked to help me has the right to choose to decline.
When I understood this about the word “please” it gave me an even greater appreciation that the appropriate response when someone makes a choice to help, is to acknowledge them with gratitude. The phrase “thank you,” provides a concise way for me to recognize the person and articulate that gratitude.
My research helped me to finally ascertain why the phrase “please and thank you” said together at the same time was bothering me so much. To say “thank you” before the deed is done implies implicitly that it will be done. Gratitude is completely unnecessary because in fact, the deed is already done. Choice is not an option. I was also keenly aware that the phrase was used by a person wielding power. What the conjoined phrase of “please and thank you” really means is “Do it now, and be quick about it.” It is hiding an order.
Accidental Talismans are things that hide other things. I do think there are times when it is appropriate to give orders and commands, and even necessary. However, I feel it best to use integrity and be up front about it. Better to keep “please” as a solo flyer, and express “thank you,” with true gratitude.
2. “There will always be someone better than you.”
My mother said this to me when I was a little girl. The first time she said it, I was so young that I was unable to understand that it might be malicious and demeaning. Later when I was an adult, my mother carefully explained to me that she did in fact intend to be malicious and demeaning when she used this phrase. Yet, I still had trouble processing that a mother would knowingly cut down their own child.I believed, when this phrase was first used on me that it was suppose to be a reality check of sorts and a release. I absolutely love to sing. I enjoy the sound of my own singing voice and many other people have given me positive feedback that they too enjoy the sound of my voice. In college though, I had a friend whose voice I enjoyed much more than my own. Instead of being upset that she had surpassed my skill, I reminded myself that there would always be someone better than me. So I was then able to close my eyes and indulge in the beauty that was her voice.
That may seem like a victory, and I suppose that it is, however, because there would always be someone better than me I gave up on a professional singing career just when I was enjoying the first breaths of success.
Because there will always be someone better than me, I hide the awards I’ve won for exemplary service, in my current profession.
“There will always be someone better than you,” is my primary excuse. Why bother to even try when there will always be someone better than me? No matter what I do, or how well I do it, there will always be someone better. It renders everything useless in the end. More than any physical Accidental Talisman, this Verbal Accidental Talisman is my primary obstacle. Whenever I dare to wish or hope for opportunity, this little beastie gets right in the way of a possible path. Instead of taking a risk, I stay trapped in my past as the little girl who was just too happy, too confident, and just too darn big for her little britches - so her mother had to cut her down to size. If that’s not one powerful curse, I don’t know what is.
I am trying to teach myself to say “I acknowledge where I am now” instead of that spiritually crippling phrase. I am trying to teach myself that I am not artificially inflating my ego, that I am empowering myself when I ask myself “What can I learn from this person I admire?” I’m not sure that anyone needs to ever be cut down to size, particularly a child. I think it is better to inspire people and propel them towards opportunity. I’m trying to teach myself that I get to include myself in that too.
3. “We need a divorce.”
This is another nasty one. Even though I’ve been divorced for nearly ten years now, I realized this Accidental Talisman was still rolling around in my head when I went to a friend’s wedding this month.
When I was married, I told my husband that I didn’t think we had enough floor space in our condo to accommodate the huge ottoman he wanted to buy. He responded with “We need a divorce!”
When I was married and nearly died in childbirth I got behind on the laundry. We were arguing about that laundry when my husband said, “We need a divorce!”
Finally, when I had neglected to bring home pineapple juice from the grocery store, instead of my usual placating pleas and promises that I would do better the next time, I simply said, “Yes. We do need a divorce.”
Accidental Talismans are physical obstacles, like a cluttered couch that no can sit on or a buried table that no one can eat at. These words cursed my marriage. “Divorce,” was standing in every room of our house and curling up next to me in our bed. These words were not a healthy way to begin a conversation. They were not a joke. They were a threat.
4. "Thank you for telling me that."
There have been a couple of times where I’ve finally gotten up the courage to risk telling someone something about myself-something dark and dear. And instead of a hug, a word of encouragement, or “I understand, I’ve been somewhere like that,” I got…thanked? Thanked for feeling awful? For being awful? This phrase has done nothing for me except perhaps make me confused or feel like I want to crawl under a rock and die.Now this is probably an appropriate response from a clinical professional paid to be non-emotional. However, the last thing I’m expecting from a friend, someone I want to believe cares about me, is a non-emotional response.
5. “At least...”
I came across a beautiful animated video, where the speaker Brene Brown explains that no empathetic response begins with the words "at least."
Her words gave me such relief. It helped me to understand that "At least" quantifies a problem, and not only that, rules it as lacking. My immediate circumstances are completely irrelevant because "at least" someone, somewhere has it so much worse.
"At least" is also applied in a twisted game of one-up-man-ship. Cue the song, "Anything you can do, I can do better" and apply it to suffering.
"Oh, you're having trouble with your son’s dad? At least he pays his child support on time. My ex is a deadbeat.”
"Oh, you’re having trouble work? At least you have a pension. My retirement is screwed.”
"Oh you have Thyroid Cancer? At least your mother doesn’t have breast cancer. Like mine does.”
"At least" is a thinly veiled curse. It really means "Your issues do not matter to me."
When people tell me, "I feel awful!" I respond with, "That's awful!" Because when I was having trouble with my son’s father, and trouble at work, and when I had cancer, it really didn’t comfort me to imagine even worse diabolical disasters. I just wanted someone to acknowledge that I was scared and just for a moment, share that burden with me.
7. “It’s not that bad.”
Once when I was young, I went to my much older brother, who was living his own adult life, and I asked him for help. My parents were serious alcoholics and I was at a loss. I didn’t know what to do.He told me that my life wasn’t that bad.
Yes, it is true that I had a roof over my head. Yes, it is true that I had food to eat. Yes, it is true that my parents paid for me to have voice lessons. Yes, it is true that my parents did not hit me. All of those things are true.
It is also true that I lived in a constant state of confusion and anxiety.
Will my permission slip for school get signed? Are they going to cook dinner? Should I go to bed without? Do I tell them I’m hungry?
I learned to drive taking my drunk father to the liquor store to buy more beer because they had already consumed the two cases they brought home after work.
My parents never hit me, this is very true. And yet etched in my memory is the time I didn’t clear the table quickly enough for my mother and in a drunken rage she shattered every plate on the kitchen floor. I stood there…staring at all the broken dishes around me.
I stood there frozen, because I was at a loss. I didn’t know what to do. But…it wasn’t that bad. Never mind that I hid under my bed because I was terrified of my mother. Because she never hit me.
When I was told that my life “wasn’t that bad,” I felt worthless. If I couldn’t handle these things, then surely I was an expressly flawed and a terrible ungrateful wretch.
It is true that other people have suffered. I’m not sure that suffering can be categorized and quantified. I am sure that my experiences have affected me for all time. These events made a deep impact on me. They happened. They mattered.
At least…to me.
