The Words We Don’t Mean to Teach

I’ve spent a lot of time talking about the power of words, the power of finding your voice when it’s been silenced. But what about the power of words when they seep into your thoughts? When the voice of someone else becomes your own?

Sometimes it’s a person — a parent, a friend, a partner. Their words shape the way you see yourself, the way you move through the world, the way you believe you deserve to take up space. Other times, the words are more external: the media, strangers on the internet, reels that make us feel seen for a moment or small enough to fit an impossible mold.

Growing up, the voice in my head was a judgy b**ch. I was never good enough, smart enough, thin enough. The goalposts always moved. The thinner I got, the fatter I felt.

Because it was never really about a number; it was about the hollow space inside me that whispered I had to earn love.

Motherhood changed that voice. Or at least, I wanted it to. I worked hard to make food neutral. No “good” or “bad.” Food as energy, joy, connection. I told my children they didn’t have to earn rest, or love, or belonging. That they could just be.

And then, this morning, my four-and-a-half-year-old told me she was afraid of being fat. She thought fat was bad. Because she thought being like me was good, and she’s seen the ways I try not to be “fat.”

Did I teach her that?

Was it in the fifteen outfit changes before leaving the house?
The sighs at the mirror?
The way I spoke without words?

Maybe silence wasn’t enough.
Maybe I needed to speak the truths I’m still learning to believe.

So I did.
We looked through photos — the ones I almost deleted, the ones that made me cringe.
And for each one, I found one small thing to love: my smile, my eyes, the memory, the laughter.
By the end, I realized the words I needed to say out loud weren’t just for her.
They were for me.

Because even the words we never speak still teach something.

The words we never say still teach, sometimes louder than the ones we do.
I wanted to protect her from my old wounds.
Turns out, healing them is the only way.