I often find myself thinking about the things people say without really meaning to cause harm. Not the deliberately cruel comments that most of us would recognise as unacceptable, but the throwaway remarks made in moments of frustration, impatience or humour. The comments that are quickly forgotten by the person who says them, whilst somehow becoming deeply significant to the person hearing them.
Recently, I was thinking about a situation many of us have probably witnessed. A person in a meeting tentatively says, “This might seem like a silly question…” and someone immediately replies, “Well don’t ask it then.” There might be a ripple of awkward laughter around the room before everyone moves on.
Yet I find myself wondering what happens next for the person who asked the question. Do they contribute again during that meeting? Do they hesitate before speaking up next time? Does that brief interaction reinforce something they have already begun to believe about themselves?
- I’m not very bright.
- I should keep quiet.
- I always get things wrong.
I suspect most of us can remember comments from our own lives that have stayed with us for years, sometimes decades. The teacher who said we weren’t trying hard enough. The parent who wondered aloud why we couldn’t just be more organised. The manager who dismissed an idea. The friend who described us as “too sensitive”. The partner who suggested we were overreacting. Often, the people who made these comments have no idea that we still remember them.
When comments come from people we perceive to have authority or influence in our lives, they can carry particular weight. As children especially, we rarely have the perspective to think, Perhaps this adult is wrong. Instead, we tend to assume that there must be something wrong with us.
Over time, repeated messages can become beliefs. Beliefs can become stories. And stories can become part of our identity.
For undiagnosed or as yet undiscovered neurodivergent individuals, this can be especially damaging. Many grow up receiving messages that they are lazy, careless, disruptive, overly sensitive or simply not trying hard enough. They may internalise these descriptions without ever understanding that there might be another explanation for why they experience the world differently.
I often wonder how many adults are still carrying beliefs about themselves that originated in someone else’s passing comment. How many people still hesitate to ask questions because they were made to feel foolish once. How many hold themselves to impossible standards because they were repeatedly told they weren’t applying themselves. How many continue to apologise for taking up space because they learned early on that being themselves was somehow “too much”.
Of course, not every reactive comment causes lifelong harm, and most people who make them are not intentionally trying to wound others. Many of us say things in frustration. Sometimes we repeat the messages we ourselves received growing up. Intention matters, but intention and impact are not always the same thing.
Perhaps this isn’t about becoming frightened of saying the wrong thing. That would be unrealistic. We are all human, and all of us will get it wrong sometimes.
Maybe it is simply an invitation to pause. To consider that we rarely know what someone else is already carrying. To recognise that our words may hold more weight than we realise. And perhaps, if we are the ones carrying those old comments and criticisms, it is also an invitation to become curious.
- Who told us that we were lazy?
- Who told us that we were difficult?
- Who told us that we weren’t trying hard enough?
- Who told us that we would never amount to anything?
And do we still want to believe them? Not every thought we have about ourselves originated with us. Some were inherited, others were absorbed or spoken by people who never imagined we would remember them. Perhaps part of healing is deciding which stories are truly ours to keep.