I remember "The pen is mightier than the sword" as an essay prompt from school, but the new age version of this for a time when people are not walking around with swords is "Use your words." My flatmate tells this to her two nephews and niece on a regular basis. I heard her on the phone this morning, in fact, trying to help a two year old express why they're so angry.
"I won't use my words!" yelled the two year old back.
Ah, good times.
I grew up in the 90s and 2000s in a small town in Tamil Nadu, with parents who never quite understood how to deal with their own emotions, let alone ours. "The Princess Diaries" showed me that one could maintain a record of the world in a notebook form, and that it could be quite entertaining and cool. However, I never thought of it as a tool that I could use to manage my feelings, just as a way to leave behind a record of my mundane existence ("Curd rice for dinner today"). Diaries seemed like a first person point-of-view narration device, rather than a legitimate way to process and deal with the world around you and yourself.
Eventually, I discovered that I could pay someone for an hour at a time to process, instead of just depending on my friends to lend me their ears. But it wasn't until 2020 that I turned to a notebook to help me process my feelings. The pandemic (and a situationship) made me use a notebook as a confidant, and I kid you not, like Ari sings in "Thank u next," that shit's amazing.
Using my words to understand myself better and the world around me has helped me have better conversations (even if it occasionally frustrates the situationship, because it means that I need time to process everything) about myself, instead of just saying "I am angry" or giving the silent treatment (well, I did grow up in India).
Finally, I have found a use for the millions of notebooks I have hoarded over the last 10 years. However, like with every new habit, it can only be fueled so much by shiny pens and pretty notebooks. The real work is writing consistently and using it to help me strengthen myself emotionally (after all, what is this Substack but a performative journal?). A friend swears by meditation as his way of coping with his emotions and the world, but I've never been able to develop the willpower needed to stick to meditation long enough to see any results. It's a long-running joke that I've taken the introductory course of "Waking Up" so many times that I can easily point out the changes with every version. Unlike working out, which you can force yourself to stick to because you just need to find a group/coach who helps you build the habit (and most importantly stick to it; I am fortunate enough to have found an inspiring gym and a coach who cares enough to check in), journaling and meditation are solitary habits that only you can make happen. Buddies can only help you so much - the motive has to be intrinsic.
Some of it comes from, as Rachel points out in F.R.I.E.N.D.S, “I was trying so hard to not be my mother that I ended up like my father!”. It’s the opposite parent in my case - I try so hard to not be like my father that I became my mother, numbing myself and tearing out parts of me so much that my default mode is to suppress until I cry. My mother and I have recently been experiencing a rough patch and her inability to use her words to tell me her feelings has frustrated me to no end. ”Tell me what’s wrong!” I told her at one point as though I’m the parent and she’s the child.
She just shook her head and insisted nothing was wrong even as she made an escape to do an inane errand. It telegraphed what was in her mind just as well.
“I won’t use my words!”
A better writer than me would have resisted the urge but indulge me in my melodrama as I try to put myself in the shoes of an older generation. My parents’ parents were worse to them and they, in all likelihood, are trying to be better in the only way they know. I know I should understood it and use my words to show them how different we can be. Would they appreciate it if they knew I was performatively shouting into the void in the hopes that it’ll make me feel better so that we can just resume our places in the circle of dysfunction? Definitely not but it hasn’t stopped me before and it won’t now.
And now for some words: Nitwit. Blubber. oddment. Tweak.