Sticks and Stones: Hurtful Words Hurt

Those of us who ever tried to respond to a bully with the old saying about “sticks and stones” know that it just isn’t true.

Words can and do hurt us. Verbal bullying and verbal abuse may not cause visible damage, but the harm is just as real as broken bones and other kinds of physical injury, and it often persists far longer.

As a kid, I was very pigeon-toed, spoke with a lisp, and played the flute, so you can imagine the names I was called. Long before I knew what it meant to be homosexual or to have even started feeling attracted to others, I knew all the anti-gay slurs and I realized they were intended to be insulting.

I’m thankful that there’s more awareness today around the negative impact bullying has on children, and I support the zero tolerance policies adopted by most schools around it, even though there may be times people go overboard in labeling something as “bullying.”

But a lot of hurtful things are said without the intent of bullying, especially by people close to us. Those comments can be just as hurtful and can persist as long in our memories, maybe even longer, than things that were meant to hurt.

I was reminded of this in a recent event hosted by Partners in Mind, the mental health Employee Resource Group (ERG) at The Standard. We held a watch party on neurodiversity, featuring the TEDx Talk by Ellaine Halligan, about the ways in which her son’s diagnosis with an Autism Spectrum Disorder represent a superpower. There was a lively discussion afterwards, and one of the main topics was the painful things others had said to us in childhood or beyond, even into adulthood.

“Try harder”

Several participants shared how much they had struggled with being told to “Try harder.” Although the discussion mostly focused on trying harder to overcome attention issues in ADHD, the myth that mental health and substance use issues reflect poor choices, lack of willpower, moral failings, and/or laziness often results in neurodiverse people of all kinds being admonished to increase their efforts to fit in and just be neurotypical.

Further, as a person with severe sleep disorders and persistent weight problems, I can’t count how many times I’ve been told I need to try harder to go to bed earlier or to eat less.

In fact, when I was a kid, physical therapy for walking on my toes consisted mostly of the school physical therapist repeatedly commanding “heel-toe!” as I walked up and down the hallway in my socks. Similarly, speech therapy was generally just the school speech therapist asking me to repeat S words, saying again and again, “Ess, not eth,” although I couldn’t hear the difference. Not surprisingly, I experienced physical therapy and speech therapy as pointless and humiliating. I grew out of both my odd walk and my lisp for the most part, but there are still traces of them, especially when I’m tired.

I often say that telling someone to try harder around their neurodiversity is similar to asking someone to wiggle their ears. I don’t know about you, but I can’t wiggle my ears. I know it’s possible. I know others can do it. But I have no idea how. You might as well ask me to levitate and then say I’m not trying hard enough when I fail.

The suggestion to try harder is insidious for several reasons. First, we’re often told to try harder at things we can partially control. People diagnosed with ADHD can often focus intentionally for at least a brief period; people who struggle with Anxiety or Depressive Disorders may be able to suppress their anxious or depressing thoughts at times; and people with addictions can usually refrain from using or drinking for at least a few hours. That can convince us that, yes, if we just try harder, we can change and be more like how others want us to be.

But it takes a mental effort others may not experience, and we eventually return to our usual way of thinking or acting. It’s like playing “Simon Says.” We can, with effort, do something that doesn’t come to us naturally, but eventually we’ll slip up.

Second, being told to try harder is similar to being told to “do your best.” No matter how hard we try, we can always try harder. “Harder” isn’t a fixed point or an objective standard, it’s a goal that is forever just out of reach. It’s difficult to point out how the suggestion to “try harder” is unrealistic or how it can be hurtful.

And finally, many of us accept the negative myths about ourselves, worrying that being different really is a reflection of being lazy or bad, or of making poor choices. Being told to try harder just reinforces the negative messages already in our heads, making us feel even worse than we already do.

“Don’t you care?”

Another phrase that was shared during our watch party was, “Don’t you care?” Don’t you care enough to pay attention, to sit still in class, to act more like others, or to live up to others’ expectations?

It seems to me that being asked whether we care is even more hurtful than being told to try harder, and it can be harder to respond to. When I’ve been asked, “Don’t you care?”, I’ve always responded with something along the lines of “Yes, of course I do,” but I’ve also wondered whether I really do. Maybe I don’t know what it means to care. Maybe I’m too selfish to see that what I’m doing is perceived as uncaring or even hurtful by others.

“Don’t you care?” also triggers guilt, while reinforcing those negative myths about being a bad person, lazy, or inconsiderate in our choices. It implies that we control how our minds work and that, if we really cared, we wouldn’t act the way we do.

“What you need to do…”

A third type of hurtful comment that I suspect every neurodiverse person has heard is the ostensibly helpful advice that often starts with, “What you need to do is…”

• “What you need to do to focus your attention is just ignore distractions, just tune them out.”
• “Instead of getting anxious, just stop stressing.”
• “When you start feeling depressed, think positive!”
• “Before you take a drink, remind yourself of everything you have to lose.”

There’s apparently an infinite supply of useless advice for every kind of problem humans face. When I’m told I “just need to go to bed earlier” to solve my sleep problems, I want to respond sarcastically: “Why didn’t I ever think to try that? I need to tell my sleep physician this. What a great idea!”

Being given advice for issues that cause lifelong limitations and impact virtually every area of functioning is insulting. It makes me feel like the other person hasn’t really listened to me, doesn’t understand, and thinks I’ve just overlooked the most obvious solution.

Good intentions

But that also points to another thing that makes these comments both painful and difficult to respond to: The person making them doesn’t mean to be hurtful. They’re often among the people closest to us, the people who care the most about us, and they’re trying to help. It feels mean and ungrateful to point out the negative impact their words have. We worry about hurting the other person, so we hold back and the pain sticks with us.

I’m betting that, if you’re in any way neurodiverse, you’ve heard these things before, and probably felt conflicted about them. My hope is that reading this will help you to feel less alone and less stuck with the dilemmas these statements cause.

If you aren’t neurodivergent and you’re just reading this post for your own learning and understanding, well, first off, thanks for being an ally!

Secondly, don’t feel badly if you’ve said some of these things yourself. As Maya Angelou famously said, “Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.” The key, as I’ve written repeatedly (and forgive me for repeating myself) is to always remember, first and foremost, that neurodiverse people are just that, people. Do everything you can to avoid losing sight of the unique person in front of you and be open to learning more about their world and their life.

Finally, I believe it’s a good practice to pause before I say anything and ask myself, is what I’m about to say kind? It’s difficult to be hurtful when you’re guided by kindness.

For more information, visit https://psychcentral.com/blog/surefire-strategies-that-dont-work-for-adhd-and-some-that-do.

If you or someone you know needs help, call 988 for any mental health or substance use crisis.

You can also call 1-800-273-8255 for the?National Suicide Prevention Lifeline?or?text HOME to 741-741 for support from the?Crisis Text Line. The?National Helpline for alcohol and drug abuse?is at 1-800-662-4357. All three are free and available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, every day of the year.

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This piece is not intended as medical or legal advice. Always speak with your medical provider before initiating a diet or exercise regimen or if you have medical questions. If you have legal questions, consult with an attorney.

This article represents my own opinions as a non-physician and does not reflect the opinions or positions of my employer.