Mental Abuse Is the Story of My Childhood.My father was a very depressed drunk. He felt better when he made others feel worse. When I was born, he was hoping for a son and got a daughter. He spent the next 18 years (until I finally got out of there) trying to convince me that I'm not good enough. Not smart enough, pretty enough, talented enough, nice enough, and would never amount to anything. I'm still dealing with those issues. Every day I have to fight the demons of those words just to be able to function on any kind of normal level. He died about a year and a half ago. His words are still with me. I wonder if they'll ever die.
Kids still quote "sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me" and I think there are a lot of people who believe it. I'm living proof that words have power. Broken bones heal a lot faster than mental scars. And when the painful words come from someone who is supposed to love us, it just cuts that much deeper. If you're a parent, be kind with your words, even if you don't feel like it.