Changing My Communication in Parenthood:

One of the most profound lessons I’ve learned as a parent is that our language is more than just a tool for communication—it is the lens through which our children perceive and interpret reality. Our words carry immense weight, shaping their thoughts, beliefs, and behaviors. Something as simple as shifting a phrase can completely change how a message is internalized.

After learning about the trauma my daughter experienced, my vocabulary regarding "safety" had to be completely rebuilt. I’ve had to redefine words like safe, secrets, and trust in ways that a five-year-old can grasp. Because she is so young, she doesn't yet understand the gravity of what happened, so I use her own lived experiences to help her define what safety feels like.

We start with the "warmth." I ask her how she feels at my house, and she uses words like warm, safe, and loved. I then contrast that with the emotions she feels at her father’s house. I explain the difference in the simplest terms possible:

"You feel safe and happy at Mommy’s because I take care of you. I brush your teeth, I play with you, and I tuck you in. These are things I do because I love you and want you to be healthy."

When we discuss her father, I explain that her negative emotions are a direct result of his actions—or his lack of them. I’ve had to teach her that some people "pretend" to be good by playing or giving gifts, but then they do things that make her feel "icky."

I use very specific, clear boundaries: "Mommy never touches your private parts, even in the bath. No one—not Mommy, not Daddy, not anyone—should ever touch you there. If someone makes you touch them or kiss them when it makes you feel scared or angry, they are not being good to you. When I ask if you want a hug and you say no, I stop because I love you. If someone makes you do something after you say no, that is not love."

Explaining this to a five-year-old is a delicate balance. I have to distinguish between things she might dislike but are healthy—like brushing her teeth—and things that are truly "bad." My language must be digestible, yet honest enough to protect her. In these conversations, every word is a building block for her safety.