I wish today’s post was about that time I got made fun of for being too nice. But it’s not. Today’s post is about that time I was a mean girl.
A few years ago I wrote about frenemies and how I spent a lot of time in sixth grade trying to get and stay in good graces with the four popular girls in my class. I wrote about the day all four of those girls handed me hate notes and broke my adolescent heart. The main reason I wrote about that was to share about how I’d neglected a good friend in my pursuit of popularity.
But when a friend of mine – one of those popular girls I’d written about – found my blog (and that post) several months later, she focused on the hate note part of the post. She was appalled and apologetic – and admitted that she didn’t remember the incident at all.
I felt about two inches tall when I received her email – and wished so badly that I’d never written about the whole thing. It had hurt me, but nearly two decades later, I was obviously over it. To me, it was just a story. Granted, one that affected me deeply at the time and shaped me, but I hadn’t been upset about it in a very, very long time.
Three of those four girls became my true friends later on in high school, and I never thought about how they’d feel if they read my interpretation of that morning in middle school.
If only that were the end of the story. If only that blog post that maybe shouldn’t have been written were my only mistake.
Almost a year after my friend emailed me and said she was so sorry (and didn’t remember it, but was so sorry anyway), she emailed me again. She had remembered.
It turns out that my memory wasn’t exactly complete, and she told me the rest of the story.
The day before the hate note delivery, I had teased my friend about hair on her legs – something we were both sensitive about. It hurt her feelings, and her friends joined her in putting me in my place the next day.
I knew she was telling me the truth, because I’m sarcastic and I tease people – and sometimes I go too far. (Sadly, I could tell you more stories than this one to back up that confession.)
I don’t remember that first exchange at all, and she didn’t remember (at first) the next day’s confrontation. Neither of us were what you’d traditionally consider mean girls – not at all. But both of us deeply hurt the other with our words anyway.
My friend and I so deeply regretted our parts in the whole thing! It’s likely we regretted them immediately, but certainly as adults (and long-time friends), we so wished we could take it all back.
But that’s the thing about words, isn’t it? We can’t take them back, no matter how nice we normally are or how much we didn’t mean them after all.
My friend Annie Downs has written a book about making our words matter – for good. And I’m giving away three copies today.
Speak Love: Making Your Words Matter is about the power of our words. The book’s description says:
Through very funny stories, Scripture, and a real understanding of the good, bad, and ugly ways we can use our words, Annie Downs explores the difference you can make when you speak love to others, to God, and even to yourself. Because when you speak love, you speak life. And that’s what matters.
Speak Love is written for teen and college-aged girls. But even though my teen years were a long time ago, I’m looking forward to reading my copy (and hoping it’s in the mail today!) before passing it on to a teenaged friend. Today I’m giving away Speak Love to three readers – and you might want to read it, too . . . before giving it to someone in the book’s “real” demographic, of course!
To enter this giveaway, leave a comment telling me about a time when your words mattered. The giveaway will close at midnight on Monday, August 26.
Photo by D. Sharon Pruitt. This post contains affiliate links.
I am too embarrassed to tell you the WHOLE story, and it would also be an injustice to my sweet husband, but I can tell you that I know first hand the damage you can do to someone whom you love, when you spout off at the mouth…
It was a horrible day at our house when I let my tongue run rampant and spoke evil, death filled words over our lives standing right there in the kitchen and then… lied about it!
I cannot express the remorse and guilt that came down upon me later (a lot later, which is also a source of embarrassment) when our Pastor preached on the subject of “Loving Your Neighbor” and it dawned on me that day… my husband IS my neighbor. In a flood of tears I ran to the front of the church to repent and obtain the forgiveness offered by the Blood of our Jesus. But as you pointed out Mary, the damage had been done.
I can tell you that it took time but my husband and I eventually grew past that day in the kitchen and all is well. Unfortunately, many unnecessary tears were shed because of it :(
I think we are were “the mean girl” at one time or another. I remember things I did that I wish so badly I could take back. Hopefully, my children will learn from my mistakes. And me? Well I strive to improve myself trying not to be “the mean girl” ever again.
*all were (sorry!)
Great post Mary! Yes, we all have regrets from our untamed tongues…
Praising God with you that the story was set straight, and His forgiveness covers ALL our wrongs… How wonderful that your friendships are real and authentic and beyond all the high school drama! :)
Would love to read a copy, and know a whole group of girls that would love to read it too!
Wow, I guess I’m learning more and more each day how my words matter to my two-year-old. Not only is she a parrot, but she will also tell me things like “I’m very mad at you.” Honestly, sometimes this is hilarious like when she is throwing a tantrum and says that. Other times, I realize that I’m not handling the situation with the grace that I should. From the mouth of babes…more like, “From the mouth of extremely verbal toddlers…”
I have, terribly, been learning the most about the importance of my words and quick temper with my children. I figured all parents yell sometimes, it’s not really a big deal. But my kids hearts, emotions and confidence are being crushed by it.
Mary, first of all, I love your blog. There is no second of all. ;)
I will never forget on my 30th birthday: my family put together a jar of compliments for me – they each wrote (including the kids!) a compliment or a reason why they liked me on a slip of paper and filled the jar. My niece Caroline wrote, “I love my Aunt Jacqueline because she never hurts anyone’s feelings.” Oh, if only that were true!
I, as you are aware, have a sarcastic side…..understatement! I’m always saying to my kids, “If you do x, y, z, I will kill you!” Of course, I would never kill them, and my daughter Katherine is well aware of this fact. My step-daughter (whom I acquired a little over a year ago) is extremely sensitive and literal. She has learned that I don’t really mean it, but it’s taken time.
Several weeks ago I went on a complete car-cleaning frenzy where I literally spent ALL DAY vaccuming, scrubbing, windex-ing, armor-all-ing, etc my car. Interior has never been cleaner. So a few days later when we drove through at lunchtime and my girls asked for shakes, I said, “I know I say I will kill you if you do stuff, but this time I REALLY WILL kill you if you spill this shake.”
Of course, Natalie, my step daughter, spilled hers. She immediately started crying hysterically all the rest of the way home, and when we got there, she ran inside and up to her room. I remained outside to scrub the soon-to-spoil milk out of the carpet of the immaculate car (probably spewing venom all the while, but never truly intending murder).
Meanwhile, Travis, my husband, went inside to talk with Natalie. He came out and told me she wanted to tell me, “I’m so sorry, it really was an accident. But I understand if she has to kill me.”
BREAK MY HEART! Or cut out my tongue! Which? BOTH!
So much for “never hurting anyone’s feelings.”
I am prone to hyperbole, and I have found out only recently how much people take me seriously.
I am the person who should be teaching our children to speak love and watch their words. I am the children’s director. I have always spoken “my mind” when speaking to adults but have chosen carefully how I speak to children, or so I think. But God has a way of reminding me we are all children of God and that many are hurt by my sarcasm and outspokenness. I need constant reminders to sometimes listen instead of speak and to always put myself in the feelings if others. I think I need this book for me and to pass on to those who I should be setting the example
I think my words have mattered when I have encouraged friends who desperately needed it. I would like to think my words have mattered to my children, but the jury’s still out on that!
I’d love to win a copy of the book.
I think if I could ask God to instantly change one thing about me, it would be to take away my sarcastic, smart-alack tendencies. (After the 30 pounds, of course. ~See what I mean?) I say these awesome witty things that would make me the star of any Disney teen drama. (In my own head.) And end up with you never speaking to me again. I have a hard time finding the middle ground between (1) keeping quiet and at a distance, guarding every word (and using few of them just to be safe) and (2) feeling comfortable enough to loosen up around you as a close friend. (because that’s when I get in trouble…)
I am a mom to small children, and I learn every day, more and more, that every word really does matter. So, I suppose my answer is, always, to everyone, in every situation.
Oh, my. When I was a teen, a friend came out of the closet to me, in a letter. On April Fool’s Day. Because, of course the goal was to just claim April Fool’s if everything went foul. I am very, VERY sorry to say that I gossiped about it (I think I had good intentions, and the goody-little-two-shoes Christian girl in me didn’t know what to do with it), and he had to claim that April Fool’s defense. *sigh*
The good news is that he didn’t seem particularly damaged by it, in the end. He came out to his true friends at the right time, has a partner, and we get to chat on facebook from time to time.
we’ve probably all been the mean girl at one time or another – and it’s toob ad we can’t ever take them back – that’s why I remnd myself of the scripture in James 1:19 – My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry. . .
It’s so easy to remember those words that truly stabbed your heart, no matter how long ago it was. I remember feeling incredibly crestfallen one time when my mom told me my outfit didn’t match (I was probably 12). I remember the things I said to a friend to hurt her when we fought. I remember the one time in my life someone has called me a b— to my face in vivid detail. (I was 14.)
I would love to read Annie’s book, too.
I could tell of many times (too many, sadly) in the past when my words have torn down. I am surrendering daily to God’s strength & transforming (slowly) to His image. I desire for my words to matter, to bring life. My husband & I often send each other Bible verses to build one another up. It’s a blessing to receive a text or email with a life-giving scripture, especially when it’s a bad moment or bad day.
One of my biggest regrets was writing mean things about my husband’s ex-girlfriend in a mutual friend’s yearbook. I’ve written an apology note since but I still feel crummy about it.
I would love to read Annie’s book. It’s on my to-read list but I haven’t picked up a copy yet.
I remember one of those moments in high school where I had a small audience listening to me give my unfair and harsh opinion of something a teammate did. I didn’t particularly dislike her, I was probably jealous honestly…but the audience egged me on and as things got uglier she walked in and over heard. I felt terrible. Words matter even when you think they are not being heard.
When I was in 7th grade, I would walk to school with a neighbor and we would get there a few minutes before the bell rang and I didn’t like it. SO I told my neighbor that I wanted to get to school earlier and she said go without her, so I did. A few weeks later she and 3 other girls, that I really didn’t know, walked up to me gave me a packet of notebook paper of the most horrific mean things to say to an insecure 13 yr old girl. I was so upset that the guidance counselor let me go home for the rest of the day.
He called each of the girls parents and handed them copies of the letter that they handed to me. Don’t know what effect it had on them but for me, changed the way I make friends.
This kind of thing happened to me as a teen, a college student and an adult. I am very guarded with groups of women, don’t have alot of close friends and it has affected the way my children make friends.
Stuff like that sometimes never goes away.
Oh, how ’bout a day my daughter has math homework that needs to be corrected. She’s in fifth grade, but I haven’t found the right (magical?) way yet to say something needs to be looked at again without it sounding to her like the WORST POSSIBLE MISTAKE IN THE WORLD.
Great story. Thanks for sharing
As a mother sometimes there are times I critique my daughters and I mean it out of love, but it stings. I so wish I knew how to predict when those moments were coming, so I could avoid them.
I have two tween daughters who would benefit from this book I am sure.
Have a daughter who is quickly approaching the age where this book would come in handy.
When I was younger, I wish I had used words more wisely with my siblings, especially after I became a Christian. Now, I have opportunity after opportunity to be more wise with my words as a mom. Some days are better than others. :)
Thanks for this thought-provoking post, Mary — and for the giveaway. =) A time when my words matter? All the time. But most recently with my husband last night. We had a disagreement and well . . . I’m still learning.
Oh my… Words. They’re so powerful whether spoken, written, or even thought. As an editor, I actually “see” every word every spoken to me. I see them like they are typed on a page. They have different fonts and punctuation depending on the tone used when seeing them, but they’re all there… hanging in the air.
I’m trying to teach my 6th grader the power of words, and this morning was a rough one. I had to be very careful. It was clear that the words I chose would make or break her day. I chose to keep telling her I loved her and God loved her more. That’s all I could think to say.
I would love this book so I could read it with my girl. I think we could both learn a lot.
Ugh. I know that “I wish I hadn’t written about it at all” knot-in-stomach that you speak of. But in trying to live an honest, authentic life, I’m trying to ignore that knot – sometimes more successfully than others.
Like you, I can be a silver-tongued she-devil (it’s a compliment, I swear). I’m sure there have been times when I said something that hurt and I didn’t even know it. This makes me want to put duct tape over my mouth and never speak again.
But then, there are also those times when I’m a saint and say things like, “You must be so proud” instead of “That is one ugly baby.” I’m hoping I end up with more kind words that mean ones.
Oh, boy, what should I write about? Which time??? There have been many–I am ashamed to say. One of the worst was the first time I made my adopted daughter cry–she couldn’t talk yet, and my husband was holding that sweet baby, and I was tired. So, so, so tired. My husband yelled up the stairs asking something, and I stomped to the stairs and yelled “STOP YELLING!!! I AM SICK OF YELLING!!!” and that sweet, sweet baby girl’s little face crumpled up and she began to cry. I remember feeling remourseful and said “Oh, honey, I didn’t mean you!” but it was too late. Ugh. Makes me want to crawl and hide,….nowhere to go!