By Your Scars

There’s a classic story about a father teaching his son a lesson about anger and the permanent damage we can do with our words. It’s called “The Fence”. You probably know it but in case you don’t, here it is:

There was boy who had a bad temper, struggling to control his hurtful words and actions. 

His father gave the boy a bag of nails and told him every time he lost his temper, he must hammer a nail into their wood fence. 

The first day, the boy had driven 37 nails into the fence. Over the next few weeks, 

he discovered that it was easier to hold his temper than to drive those nails into the fence. 

As he learned to control his anger, the number of nails hammered daily gradually dwindled down. 

Finally the day came when the boy didn't lose his temper at all. 

His dad now had him remove one nail for each day that he controlled his temper. 

It took months, one by one, removing a nail for each day but finally all of the nails were gone.  

The father took his son by the hand, led him to the fence and said, "You have done well. But look at the holes in the fence. They fence will never be the same. When you say things in anger, they leave a scar, just like this one. You can put a knife in a man and draw it out. 

It won't matter how many time you say "I'm sorry", the wound is still there.

-Anonymous 

 

This story of course has a great lesson about the long term impact we can have when we are reckless with our words and actions. Even if we feel bad, apologize, and are forgiven, some scars will always remain. 

But this story also provides a metaphor with the damaged fence representing a damaged person. And while we should definitely be careful with one another, the scars we bear become who we are. They are our stories and what makes us unique. We don't see each other as polished pieces of wood, each alike and flawless. We fit together with our friends, chosen family, and partners by the way they see and tend to our scars.  The way they make space for our heartaches, hold our pain, and look straight in the eye of our adversity and don't look away. 

I know you have your scars. 

I know the places it hurts. 

I don't wish those parts of you away. 

I know you by your scars. 

What do you like about yourself?

Image credit: www.wayfair.com 

With a background in early childhood education and raising two children of my own in a moderately contentious and complicated society, I think a lot about social skills and social-emotional development. With young children, it is easy to see their physical development and hear their language development. But social emotional development often occurs in outbursts or in response to difficult situations. While there are some moments children express their internal self-reflection and dialogue, we don't get as many displays of self-esteem, self-identity, and confidence. 

I got to wondering about my eldest's opinion of himself and how we can balance developing a positive self-image in him that isn't arrogant or exaggerated. So I asked him a few questions like, "what do you think you're good at?", "what do you like about the way you look?", and "what do you like about yourself?". He answered with some typical six-year-old answers. "I'm good at kicking a ball, speaking Spanish, reading some books on my own. I like my hair and my blue eyes. I'm helpful, funny, and smart." And so on. 

But then he surprised me and turned the conversation around, asking me what I'm good at, what I like about the way I look, and what I like about myself. 

I couldn't answer. 

My mind raced but my mouth was frozen. 

I'm good at writing... but I'm not creative, I write research-based content in my field. 

I'm good at running.... but so many people are faster and stronger than me and I've never run a full marathon. 

I have a nice smile... but my teeth are a little crooked and that one girl in 9th grade said I had weird lips. 

I'm kind... but sometimes I hurt other people's feelings. 

I'm smart.... but not that smart, I didn't even get into an elite or ivy league college. 

My thoughts continued this way until my eyes filled with tears. 

I couldn't think of one thing that felt completely true. 

As soon as an idea popped up in my mind, I shot it down. With evidence that it couldn't possibly be true. 

And even if I tried to silence those negative voices in my head, no matter what I said, surely the people closest to me would know I was a fraud. 

This is not indicative of a lack of positive qualities but rather a lack of positive self-image and self-esteem. I was worried about my son's confidence but it was me who needed to break the cycle of self-deprecation and striving for unattainable concepts of "perfection". Decades of airbrushed magazines, academic competition, and unhealthy comparisons had tainted my ability to see my strengths without adding disclaimers that negated any quality I was describing. 

I genuinely didn't know it would be so hard to say kind things about myself. Or that I would worry so much that people around would focus on the exception rather than the general presence of a positive quality. I needed practice speaking kindly to myself. And believing the kind things other people say to me. 

So we took turns answer these questions about each other. Each of us stating what we liked about the others, what they are good at, and what we found attractive about them. It was so easy for me to rattle off long lists about the other people, never doubting the amazing qualities about them.

And then I listened carefully when they said kind things about me. 

I desperately wanted to argue with them and prove they were wrong. 

But I didn't. I listened and let my mind absorb the overwhelming positive qualities my family sees in me that I can't see in myself. 

I'm guessing I'm not the only one who is their own worst critic. And in someways I think it has pushed me to always be reflective, and do better, and be humble. But it hurt to think that I couldn't even model for my son what it sounds like to love oneself. 

Try this out. Spend a few moments with your thoughts. Make space to speak kindly. Consider how your loved ones would describe you. Avoid the disclaimer. Forget the unattainable idea of perfection. 

What do you like about yourself?