Diaries of a Twenty-Six-Year Old Girl

Sticks and stones may break my bones,
but words do, in fact, hurt me.

Language is complex—full of meaning, nuance, and interpretation.
Even the phrases we dismiss as “just jokes” carry weight.

What we call harmless isn’t always harmless.
Words linger. They shape how we see ourselves—and how we’re seen.

And sometimes, the things said lightly
are the ones that land the heaviest.

I see this most during family gatherings.
Everyone is laughing—until the teasing starts.

“Oh, here comes dumb and dumber,”
a parent says about their two teenage sons.
Or, “Yeah… they’re not the brightest.”

It sounds harmless. Even funny.

But to a child, it doesn’t feel like a joke.
It becomes a message.

If those are the words they hear repeatedly—
from someone they’re taught to trust—
they don’t question it.

They absorb it.

And over time, it doesn’t just sound like a joke anymore.
It starts to sound like who they are.

The words we tell ourselves shape our reality—
whether through positive reinforcement or negative.

A “bossy” child might grow into a leader.
An “argumentative” child might become someone who questions, challenges, and thinks critically.

But a child who is told they are “dumb”—

doesn’t grow into that.

They grow into the belief that they are.

Which is why the words we use—especially with the people closest to us—matter.

Family and friendships are meant to support, not define someone’s limits.
They should build confidence, not quietly take it away.

Because the things we say in passing
are often the things people carry with them the longest.