Vocabulary part 2

 As Nicky, I stand before you today to share a story of pain, one that stems not from a single event but from a series of experiences that shaped me. Imagine being an 8-year-old girl, eager to learn but finding yourself unable to memorize words, pronounce them correctly, or remember their meanings. Every time I couldn’t get it right—every time I stumbled—it felt like I was failing. But the real pain didn’t come from my mistakes. It came from the way those mistakes were punished.

When I couldn’t get a word right, it wasn’t just about the words. It was about the feeling that I wasn’t good enough, the fear that I wasn’t measuring up to the expectations around me. Each time I failed, I felt as though I was letting everyone down. But more than that, it felt like I was letting myself down.

In my home, there was no room for mistakes. Failure wasn’t just a part of learning—it was something that had to be punished. And so, I learned to brace for the inevitable punishment. The switch, the strike—it wasn’t just a physical blow; it was a lesson that reinforced the idea that being imperfect meant you were worthless. I couldn’t fail. I couldn’t be wrong. And when I was, the pain wasn’t just physical—it cut deeper. It became emotional, internalized.

The real lesson I learned, though, wasn’t about words or language—it was about how to survive in a space that made it unsafe to be wrong. And so, I learned how to shut down. I learned how to numb myself. Each blow, each word, each mistake pushed me further into that numbness. The pain still stung, but eventually, it became something I could push aside. I didn’t feel it as deeply anymore. And that, in a twisted way, became my survival tool: numbness.

But here’s the thing—numbness isn’t healing. It’s not growth. It’s survival. It’s how you endure without breaking, but it doesn’t allow you to thrive. It’s how you manage to keep going while shutting down parts of yourself that are too painful to face.

I want to share this with you because, as I stand here today, I realize that the space I was forced into—the one where mistakes were punished rather than embraced—did more than just teach me to survive. It taught me not to give myself grace. It taught me that failing, even a little, was unforgivable. And when you live in that kind of space, it becomes hard to offer yourself any kind of compassion. You become your own harshest critic, forever punishing yourself for things that are just a part of learning, growing, and being human.

What I need you to understand is that this pain, this cycle of harshness and self-criticism, isn't just a physical one—it’s emotional. It’s something that can be carried long after the bruises fade. So, when you see someone struggling, when you witness mistakes being made, remember that the pain they carry may be deeper than what’s on the surface. Give grace where it's needed. Allow space for mistakes. And most importantly, teach yourself and others that being wrong doesn't make us unworthy. It makes us human.