A spunky girl, Niv, always bounced to her feet when she woke. For her, each day was a surprise package. She especially looked forward to discovering new computer skills.
One rainy Saturday morning, after having breakfast with her mother, Niv happily scooted to the house next door to play with an older girl, Larnie.
Niv’s visit, though, didn’t go as planned, After a short 10-minute stay, during which something unexpected occurred, Niv returned home with shoulders slumped and head hung.
Wondering why Niv was back so soon and noticing she wasn’t her usual cheery self, Niv’s mother spoke up. “You were looking forward to spending time with Larnie. Did something happen?” she asked.
“I learned Larnie doesn’t like losing. After I won the two computer games we played, she called me ‘Niv the nerd,’ then said she didn’t want to plan anymore. . . . I thought about calling her a sore loser. . . . Maybe I should have let her win the second game,” said Niv.
Niv’s mother went to a closet, where she pulled a sack off a shelf. After joining Niv on the couch, her mother reached into the cloth container, then removed and spread several soft orange sponge balls—each about the size of a ping pong ball. “Will you help me try a fun way to explain something good for everyone to know?” asked her mother.
Niv was curious. “How can I help?” she asked.
“First, you can pretend the orange sponge balls I put between us are gobs of hurt,” answered her mother as she picked up one of the balls. “The gob I’m holding is hurt that took me a long time to get over. It happened after a girl, who knew my name was Tina, called me ‘Tina Turtle’ because she thought I was doing a task too slow.”
“Why did it take you a long time to get over your hurt?” wondered Niv.
“Instead of admitting to myself I was hurt, I hid my hurt in my brain, where it stayed a yucky memory,” explained the mother before handing Niv one of the orange balls.
“What good is pretending your hurt is a sponge ball?” asked Niv.
“I hope to show you,” answered her mother as she began to conceal the ball she was holding by curling and squeezing fingers. “Try hiding the gob I gave you. Pretend it’s the gob you hid in your brain right after Larnie called you a nerd,” she instructed.
Copying her mother, Niv snuggly buried the ball in her left hand.
“Make sure no orange is showing,” said her mother.
“OK,” replied Niv as she turned her wrist to make sure there wasn’t a hint of orange in sight. “You’re showing me that hiding hurt is easy, right?” she asked.
“We’re not done,” answered her mother. “Soon after I was called Tina Turtle, I did something that gave me another gob of hurt. . . . Let’s hide a second orange gob in the hand already holding a sponge ball,” suggested the mother.
“OK,” said Niv as she reached for another ball. “What did you do that gave you another gob of hurt?” she asked while finding it hard to completely conceal the second orange ball.
Her mother wanted Niv to know what had happened. “When Clara—the girl who had called me Tina Turtle—dropped and broke her art class ornament the next day, I got even by calling her Clara Clumsy,” confessed her mother.
Confused, Niv squinted. “You were just getting even,” she pointed out.
“Seeing myself be unkind caused me to somewhat lose liking myself,” revealed her mother.
“But you were just getting even,” repeated Niv.
asked the mother.
“Yeah,” answered Niv.
“Liking myself, especially for being nice, is something I did and do think is important,” shared her mother.
Niv knew what her mother meant. “You mean you sort of lost feeling like you’re a good person,” she noted.
“That’s right. When I name-call I like myself less,” admitted the mother.
“But doesn’t getting back at someone get her to stop being mean?” asked Niv.
Her mother handed Niv another orange ball while answering. “I’ve learned that payback usually causes more give-and-get meanness and hurt. . . . Let’s see what happens when we try to hide a third gob of hurt,” she suggested.
Niv found it very hard to conceal three balls. “Can we use two hands?” she asked.
Though her mother’s hand was bigger, she, too, struggled to make sure no orange was showing. “Let’s try to stick with using just one hand,” she answered.
After a half minute of tucking, Niv slouched shoulders while giving up. “I can’t hide three gobs,” she fussed as she dropped her balls.
“You gave up soon. That’s not like you,” said her mother.
Feeling flustered, Niv blamed Larnie. “Having Larnie be mean is still upsetting me.”
“So, you’re still sad and angry,” noted her mother as she grabbed her sack, then shook several blue and red sponge balls onto the couch.
“I guess so,” replied Niv.
“Let’s hide a blue sadness ball in one hand and a red anger ball in the other,” said her mother while picking up a blue ball with her right hand and a red one with her left.
Still wanting to please her mother, Niv did the same.
“After I hide hurt, I sometimes also hide the sadness and anger that often follows it,” confessed Niv’s mother. “I get afraid others won’t want to be around me if I show sadness or anger. . . . Do you ever feel that way?” she asked.
Niv shrugged as she and her mother clenched the sadness and anger sponge balls.
Determined to have the sponge-ball lesson be useful, the mother opened up even more. “My sadness and anger let me know I have hurt to heal. Ignoring and storing a lot of hurt makes a lot of sadness and anger—too much to hide. . . . I wish my parents had known to teach me about hurt. . . . When I name-called Clara, I didn’t know I was hurting myself. . . . I didn’t realize how well I’d remember being mean,” she opened up.
Hearing her mother be honest prompted Niv to do the same. “I didn’t just think about calling Larnie a sore loser. . . . I mumbled it loud enough for her to hear. That’s why she said she didn’t want to play anymore,” confessed Niv.
“Let’s hide a second blue ball in one hand and a second red one in the other hand,” she suggested as she reached for the balls.
Niv suddenly felt regret. “I should tell Larnie I’m sorry,” she decided while also reaching for a ball with each hand.
“That’s a good start, ” encouraged her mother before asking a tricky, but important, question. “What do you think would happen if you were OK with being a nerd?”
That didn’t make sense to Niv. “Why would I do that?” she asked.
“It’s a kind and fair way to treat yourself,” suggested the mother.
Niv was puzzled..
“Your knack for computers helps you feel able to succeed and able to feel close to those who share your knack. It also sometimes causes you stand out. . . . Standing out makes you different. Being different can cause people to get picked on,” explained the mother.
“So, I hurt myself by being different,” worried Niv.
Again, her mother thought carefully before she spoke. “Not by being different, but by not liking how you’re different. . . . I did the same thing when I felt bad about being a slow poke,” she explained.
Niv wanted to show she was following what her mother was saying. “You felt bad because you put yourself down,” she replied.
“That’s right! . . . Anytime we lose liking ourselves we get a gob of hurt—a gob that sometimes leaves us sad or angry. . . . Staying sad or angry means we’re carrying around a big gob of hurt,” shared the mother.
“You’re saying we hurt ourselves,” bemoaned Niv.
“For too long, I agreed with those who called me slow. Agreeing caused me to feel not good enough. I now know my slowness was and is just me being thoughtful. Being thoughtful is a good thing,” explained the mother.
Niv followed her mother’s lead. “Wanting to learn about computers is just me being curious, and being curious is a good thing,” she noted.
“Yes!” assured her mother. “Turning something good about us into something bad causes us to like ourselves less. It caused me gobs of unnecessary hurt, sadness and anger. I don’t want that to happen to you!”
After letting go of the balls she was holding, Niv brought up a nagging hitch. “Having someone not like us is yucky,” she complained.
“I’ve discovered not liking myself is, by far, yuckier!” said the mother while also emptying her hands.
“But people need friends!” carried on Niv.
Again, her mother was patient and understanding. “Yes, everybody needs to feel closeness. But it’s OK if Larnie or even most kids don’t want to play with you!” After dumping several more balls of each color onto the couch, her mother had one more request. “Will you help me with one final sponge-ball pick-up?”
Following a quick nod by Niv, her mother cupped hands as she spoke. “Put sponge-ball gobs of hurt, sadness and anger into the bowl I’ve created with my hands,” requested the mother.
While stuffing orange hurt-balls, blue sadness-balls and red anger-balls into her mother’s grip, Niv guessed what they were doing. “We’re showing how hurt, sadness and anger pile up inside us,” she realized.
“Yes. The space between my hands is my memory. Keep adding and cramming,” urged her mother.
After Niv nudged and pinched an eighth ball into place, her mother rotated fingers into a sphere. Then, as Niv carefully pushed a ninth ball into the only remaining bit of space she could find, her mother did her best to keep her hands rigid. “Keep going,” instructed her mother.
Despite seeing no place to put another ball, Niv jammed a tenth sponge by squishing as hard as she could.
“Help!” called out her mother as her grip weakened.
“OK!” replied Niv before quickly pressing her palms and fingers under and over her mother’s hands.
A few seconds later, despite Niv’s help, an eruption sent the entire clump of balls bursting in all directions.
Niv grinned as she shared what she’d come to appreciate. “There’s gobs of hurt, sadness and anger all over the place. . . . I guess that’s what happens when we let them pile up in our brain,” she declared.
“Very well put, Niv!” praised her mother, smiling while raising hands.
Niv was aware she had more to figure out. “Healing hurt is going to take practice,” she noted.
“That’s a super smart thing to know! I’ve got more learning to do, too,” assured her mother as she leaned toward Niv with open arms, prompting them to hug.
“There’s something left for me to do that’ll take some time,” noted Niv as they released each other.
“I believe I know what that is, but I’d like to hear you say it,” replied her mother.
“I need to stick with liking Niv-the-Nerd!” said Niv with a big smile.
“Hearing you say that is a wonderful gift. . . . I won’t let you forget that I think your nerdiness is super!” shared her mother.
1. Why does losing a game sometimes upset people?
2. Why are people usually good at remembering times they’re unkind or unfair?
3. Discuss why hiding sponge balls was a good way to begin learning about hurt.
4. Why was it important for Niv to learn to like being a nerd?
5. Why is it sometimes hard for people to realize they’re hurting themselves?