The Bridge That Is Language
a note on language barriers.
The bridge to disconnect — within ourselves, our relationships to others, and life in general — lies within our language. More straightforwardly, perhaps, the bridge is our language.
I found myself in thought of this revelation after leaving a therapy session. For a while, I’d been dealing with some things and could not understand what I was going through. My therapist, as amazing as she is, listened to the symptoms of what I was experiencing and to my surprise (and relief), gave me the name of a condition that I had no idea existed. What I had gone through a period of my life believing was solely a mental problem, was actually a physical condition that was affecting my mental health.
After doing further research on my own, I took the next step to set up a visit with my doctor in order to discuss treatment options. The most important thing that I took from this is that without the language for what I had been experiencing, steps to true healing would not have become possible.
Once I was able to name my experience, everything changed for me — and the power now rested in my hands, rather than in my condition. Where there once was a disconnect, language had become a bridge.
This doesn’t just go for physical conditions though — it goes for matters of the heart, mind, and soul as well. When we are able to name our trauma, our ache, our emotions, our experiences, we become powerful beings.
In healing, I believe the most essential key is having the language. Without it, we cannot fully understand ourselves, we cannot understand our triggers, we cannot set boundaries, and we cannot truly heal. Without it, we also lack the ability to empathize and show compassion for others, and rather than being a bridge, we become a barrier. Without language, we’re often showing up in our daily lives weighed down by our trauma and easily triggered without a clue as to why.
When we don’t understand what we’re carrying, we tend to point blame, hide from it, or mask it. We tend to project onto others, avoid responsibility (and accountability), or run away rather than meet it with grace and intentional tenderness in handling.
We tend to apply external changes here and there — be it something as small as changing up our hair or as big as making a move to a different city — in an attempt to apply a quick fix. Meanwhile, the internal is left unattended, and we carry on without the language needed to do the true work of healing.
When the internal work goes neglected, it’s often evident. The problems we carry proceed to follow us and show up in how we view ourselves, in our relationships, in our communication styles, in our emotional intelligence and maturity (or lack thereof), in our conflict management styles — the list goes on and on.
Those unwilling to face their wounds remain wounded, and often become the source of others’ wounds.
We cannot break the cycle of woundedness if we do not first own the language to heal.
As Brené Brown states: Language is our portal to meaning-making, connection, healing, learning, and self-awareness. Having access to the right words can open up entire universes. When we don’t have the language to talk about what we’re experiencing, our ability to make sense of what’s happening and share it with others is severely limited. Without accurate language, we struggle to get the help we need, we don’t always regulate or manage our emotions and experiences in a way that allows us to move through them productively, and our self-awareness is diminished. Language shows us that naming an experience doesn’t give the experience more power, it gives us the power of understanding and meaning.
We need the language. Without it, we betray ourselves — and sadly even others. We betray the healing of our hearts — and of our communities, our generations, our world. But with language, we open up the power of ourselves and of others. We heal. We become the bridge.
In a former post of mine, I wrote: Language is an ecosystem. An environment that either connects us or creates discord. An abode that either breeds hate or nurtures love. We are often at the mercy of language — either another’s or our own. Our behavior and the way we live life is contingent upon the language we speak and the language we keep.
Language can either be a sitemap for ache or for ease. It can either be the framework for generational bondage or for ancestral healing. It can be where the light enters or where it leaves us.
That statement will forever stand true.
I urge you, find the language that you need to make your healing possible. And then be the bridge, not the barrier.
Leave your thoughts in the comments:
Is language a bridge in your life at this moment, or are you experiencing barriers?
How has language played a part in your healing journey?
How has a lack of language affected your relationships — with yourself and with others?
Do you believe that the wounded become the wounders?
What is language to you?
"Once I was able to name my experience, everything changed for me — and the power now rested in my hands, rather than in my condition." This hit so hard for me. Currently attempting to write a piece w this as the root. Language is absolutely a bridge for me and often a foundation I can stand on and operate from. Grateful for this!
This has been a lifelong struggle for me. I was silenced a lot as a child and now in my thirties I am walking through that trauma with a counselor. It’s amazing how often we process something and it comes down to my frustration that I don’t know what I am feeling or how to say it.