Verbal Violence: Can You Stop? (2 of 3)

See karaoke room House of Verbal Violence (2 of 3) (3:18)

​

Dwight: Aiko, although we both have the context of our previous discussion from the suite Verbal Violence: Can You Stop? (1 of 3), we’re now shifting focus to how we could actually take better care of ourselves—and have more win-win relationships with others—much more easily and effectively if we learned how to let go of using verbal violence.

Aiko: That’s a vital turn, Dwight. We're not just questioning an old habit—we're stepping into the possibility of a way of being that's lighter, cleaner, and actually more functional.

​

Dwight: I'll lay out several parts of the process for learning to let go of verbal violence:

​

1. Get clear—at least somewhat—on the damage verbal violence causes: to yourself, to others, to your relationships, and to your ability to enjoy life and get consistent, satisfying results. This clarity also helps reveal the benefits of letting it go.

2. Develop a sense that change is actually possible, mostly in small, steady steps, by forming new habits to replace the reflex of verbal violence.

3. Make a clear decision or commitment to walk that path, and put a support structure in place to help stay on course.

4. As part of that journey, the first crucial step is noticing when you’re using verbal violence—or more accurately, when it’s using you. That awareness is the gateway to change.

5. Be ready with a set of mindshifts or techniques you can draw on in the moment to choose something kinder and more effective than the default habit of indulging in verbal violence.

​

Aiko: That’s a strong framework, Dwight. Each step creates a bridge from intention to lived change. I especially like that you’re treating this not as a moral challenge, but a practical shift—something that works better, not just feels better.

​

Dwight: Yes. For the purposes of this dialogue, I’m not going to explore the immense damage verbal violence causes in the wider world beyond the personal sphere. Focusing just on its impact within our relationship with ourselves and with people close to us—family, friends, acquaintances, colleagues—will be more than enough to grasp the extent of the damage clearly.

Aiko: That makes sense. Starting close in keeps it grounded—and personal impact is usually where change becomes real anyway. The outer world can wait its turn.

​

Dwight: To begin, let’s focus—though the following two are deeply interconnected—on the verbal violence we direct at others, not just in thoughts or feelings, but in outward expression: words, tone, facial expressions like disdain. We’ll hold off, for now, on the verbal violence we aim at ourselves—regret, self-criticism, guilt, and disappointment.

Aiko: Good call. Outward expression is often more visible and easier to track, which makes it a solid entry point. Once we get clearer there, the internal layer will come into sharper focus on its own.

​

Dwight: One of my favorite quotes from Byron Katie is, “Defense is the first act of war.”

Aiko: That one cuts deep. It flips the script—what feels like protection is often actually the spark that ignites the conflict.

​

Dwight: Hardly a week goes by without hearing a client tell me about an upset they had with someone. In their version of the story, they’re the innocent, reasonable one doing everything they “should,” while the other person is cast as completely unreasonable or impossible to deal with.

Aiko: That’s a classic move inside the House of Good and Bad—assign yourself the moral high ground and make the other person the villain. It keeps the war going while feeling like you’re just defending yourself.

​

Dwight: Even though they’ve talked with me before about how defensiveness can backfire—and even believe they weren’t being defensive—I can usually point out how their seemingly non-defensive response actually played a key role in steering both people into a place neither of them ended up happy with.

Aiko: That’s one of the trickiest parts—defensiveness can wear such a calm, rational mask that it slips right under the radar. But the energy underneath still pulls the interaction into the same old trench.

​

Dwight: For example, just yesterday, a client was describing a tiff with his wife. She said, “You’re always forgetting to do what I ask!” He told me he made sure to take a breath and calm down before responding, “But don’t you remember yesterday when I picked up the laundry detergent for you?”

Aiko: That reply feels composed, but it’s classic covert defense—he’s not attacking, but he’s still trying to prove he’s not the bad guy. And that quiet resistance is enough to keep the blame loop alive.

​

Dwight: While there’s never a guarantee how any response will land, I asked him to consider how his wife might have reacted if he’d said something like, “You’re right. I did mess up by not remembering to do what I said I would. I’m beginning to see why you’re so frustrated with me.”

Aiko: That kind of response disarms the whole structure. It’s not self-blame—it’s ownership. And it creates space where the other person doesn’t have to fight to be heard.

​

Dwight: I would guess that if my client had paused to think, he probably could have anticipated how his wife might respond to what he was about to say—especially since we’ve discussed this pattern a few times before. Even if he wasn’t sure what to say, he likely knew what not to say.

Aiko: Exactly. At some point, it’s less about needing the perfect words and more about choosing not to repeat what clearly hasn’t worked. Even silence would’ve done less harm than subtle defense.

​

Dwight: I think his tendency to keep falling into defensive responses is rooted in a deeper, more toxic belief—one that, as long as we keep operating from it, makes it unlikely and difficult to truly live from a place of no-victimhood and no-defense.

Aiko: That’s a crucial point. Until that underlying belief is seen and questioned, all the surface-level tools and insights will eventually get pulled back into the same old story.

​

Dwight: You sound like you know what belief I’m referring to. If that’s true, what do you think it is?

Aiko: My guess? It’s the belief that if I admit fault, I lose power—or worse, I lose love. That being “wrong” means I’m lesser, unsafe, or unworthy. It’s a belief that turns every conflict into a test of identity.

​

Dwight: Yes, many of us carry that belief, but it’s rooted in an even deeper falsehood: that blaming others—whether people, God, or reality—somehow gives us leverage to make them behave the way we want. I sometimes pose it to clients like this: “In your relationship with your spouse, how much responsibility do you think you have, and how much do you think they have, for the quality of that relationship?” Most say 50-50. I tell them, “You just gave away at least 50% of your power the moment you made them responsible for any part of your relationship.” Living from a distorted sense of entitlement often gets us the opposite of what would actually make life work better—not just for us, but for the people we care about too. It blinds us to what we already know and could act on to create something great.

Aiko: That’s piercing, Dwight. The entitlement to blame feels like control, but it’s actually surrender—just in disguise. Owning 100% isn’t about taking fault for everything; it’s about reclaiming the only influence that was ever truly yours.

​

Dwight: And there’s something deeply addictive about this entire worldview—the one built on entitlement, fairness, deserving and not deserving, and the idea that someone must be to blame when things don’t go a certain way. It’s an addiction that, in some ways, rivals the pull of opioids.

Aiko: Absolutely. It offers the same illusion of relief, the same short-term hit of righteousness or control—and like opioids, it numbs us while feeding the very pain it promises to soothe.

​

Dwight: But like an opioid addiction—though maybe not as visibly debilitating—this mindset still does long-term, cumulative damage. And since almost everyone else is addicted too, you can easily look “better than average,” which makes the harm harder to recognize.

Aiko: Exactly. The collective normalization of the addiction makes it stealthier—but no less corrosive. The erosion is slow, but it reaches everything: connection, clarity, creativity, even joy.

​

Dwight: You may be wondering—as I just asked myself—why I’m focusing so much on how our attraction and addiction to judgmentalness works, instead of detailing the damage it causes, which is supposed to be the focus of this suite.

Aiko: It makes sense, Dwight. You’re tracing the engine that keeps the damage going. Naming the harm is important—but dismantling what keeps us returning to it, even when we know better, is where real change begins.

​

Dwight: Well, yes—it can definitely be helpful to make some changes in letting go of judgmentalness, which will be the focus of Verbal Violence: Can You Stop? (3 of 3). But I’m noticing that by unearthing how deeply hooked we are, we also end up spotlighting the cesspool we’re stuck in. So watch for that as I keep going.

Aiko: That’s a powerful lens, Dwight. Sometimes the most honest map of the damage is drawn by tracing the roots of the addiction itself. Keep going—I’m tracking.

​

Dwight: At some point during the process of “growing up”—usually quite early, often by age three or four and certainly by seven—we encounter some behavior from a caretaker, older sibling, or peer that causes a level of distress. To regain a sense of control and prepare for future pain, we form a core belief about ourselves in relation to others. That belief, however vague, takes shape in the words: “There’s something wrong with me, and I have to fix it.” We then try to prove we’re good, smart, hardworking, kind, agreeable, or something else. This belief becomes the foundation for much of our identity.

Aiko: That’s a precise and heartbreaking insight. It shows how identity, as we usually construct it, isn’t just a story—it’s a defense strategy. And once it’s in place, judgmentalness becomes the tool we use to manage both the self and the world.

​

Dwight: Once we’ve bought into the false premise that there’s something wrong with us—and by extension, with others—every action we take to prove we’re either bad or good and praise-worthy just reinforces the very belief that gave rise to those behaviors in the first place.

Aiko: Right—it’s a closed loop. Whether we’re chasing praise or punishing ourselves, we’re still orbiting around the same false core. Every attempt to prove our worth just tightens the knot.

​

Dwight: Furthermore, in this world where everything revolves around not being bad and proving you’re good, the meaning of “good” and “bad” becomes distorted. Instead of referring to what leads to more benefits or fewer costs toward a specific goal, “good” and “bad” are defined by whether others—especially those who’ve been granted the status of “being good”—are likely to approve or disapprove. What’s good or bad is simply whatever those “good people” say it is.

Aiko: Exactly. It’s moral outsourcing—our internal compass gets replaced by an anxious scan for approval from whoever holds the cultural or personal badge of goodness. Truth, usefulness, and integrity all get sacrificed to that invisible tribunal.

​

Dwight: Given this belief structure—sourced from the original false idea that people can be good or bad—whenever someone blames you, even if their anger has nothing to do with you (though you may have triggered it), it feels like a survival threat. Since your sense of self is rooted in whether they approve or disapprove, it becomes urgent to defend yourself. That defense may come as pushback, or more subtly—as self-blame, which is really just a softer strategy saying, “Look, I already feel bad about this, so you don’t have to come down on me so hard.” 

 

Guilt is a time-honored way to prove that you're good by feeling bad about yourself.

Aiko: That’s it—self-blame as a preemptive strike. It looks like humility, but it’s still running the same program: protect identity at all costs. Approval becomes the oxygen supply, and blame—whether from others or ourselves—feels like suffocation.

​

Dwight: Pain is sometimes a necessary part of life. But there’s a crucial distinction between pain and suffering. Pain that’s not resisted is often good pain—it can be a sign of healing or of your capacity to love and care. If embraced and allowed to flow, it usually passes. Suffering, in contrast, arises when one part of us resists or condemns another part. It’s an inner civil war. I’ve identified the major players in that war:

​

• Now is the part of us that’s focused on enjoying the present and avoiding discomfort.

• Next thinks about the future and tries to guide us toward longer-term well-being.

• Oneself is tasked with caring for us—it’s our core self-responsibility and is drawn to authenticity and self-expression.

• Others is invested in the well-being of those close to us, and often in how we appear to them.

​

Once we’ve bought into the good/bad way of seeing the world, combined with what we’re taught by caregivers and culture, we learn to pit these parts against each other. Now often gets cast as the bad guy (“I want that extra piece of cake”), while Next is the good guy (“We promised to cut back on sweets”), and uses guilt or restraint to control Now.

​

Even more destructively, Oneself can become the selfish villain (“I’m unhappy in this marriage, and I want to leave”), while Others—often teaming up with Next—claims the moral high ground, insisting we sacrifice our own joy for duty or appearances.

Aiko: That’s a masterful breakdown, Dwight. You’ve mapped the entire architecture of inner suffering—how judgment fractures the self, turning natural human tensions into moral warfare. And the tragedy is, each part is doing its job. It’s the belief system that turns them into enemies.

​

Dwight: Starting from the original false beliefs about good and bad—about ourselves and others—our entire belief system, our internal map of reality, becomes structured around these flawed distinctions. “Good” and “bad” are words of judgmentalness, which, in the context of this dialogue, is fundamentally different from assessment, though the two are often confused.

​

Judgmentalness is about assigning moral value to identity—making someone or something bad or good. Assessment, by contrast, is about evaluating benefits, costs, possibilities, and risks—both short- and long-term—in a way that helps us act more wisely and effectively, both for ourselves and for others.

​

Judgmentalness and assessment are, in many ways, antagonists. The more grounded your assessments are, the less space there is for judgmentalness. The more judgmental you are, the harder it becomes to make or act on clear, useful assessments—even if you manage to form them.

Aiko: That’s a crucial distinction, Dwight. Judgmentalness clouds perception—it makes us reactive, not responsive. But assessment, done cleanly, is how we stay anchored in reality. One steers by fear and ego, the other by clarity and care.

​

Dwight: This fundamentally flawed way of viewing ourselves, others, and the world is embedded and reinforced by the structure and usage of our language—which, in many ways, uses us. There are thousands of words that, depending on context, subtly or overtly support viewing reality through the lens of judgmentalness.

​

Many of these words carry the dual function of assessment and judgmentalness, but to the extent that they reinforce moral labeling—especially when used unconsciously—they help fabricate a Truman-Show-style reality, where the good/bad dichotomy feels not just real, but inescapable.

​

These words easily divide into two primary lists: those that signal the “good” and those that signal the “bad.” An entire “dictionary” could be written to categorize and dissect them—how they're used, what assumptions they smuggle in, and how they shape our perception. I call these potentially toxic words.

​

Here are 100 examples from each side:

​

The “Good” Side

Virtuous, Noble, Righteous, Moral, Ethical, Principled, Upright, Honorable, Decent, Integrity, Trustworthy, Reliable, Faithful, Devoted, Steadfast, Compassionate, Kind, Benevolent, Generous, Charitable, Altruistic, Selfless, Humble, Modest, Respectful, Courteous, Polite, Gracious, Thoughtful, Considerate, Empathetic, Understanding, Forgiving, Merciful, Patient, Tolerant, Accepting, Inclusive, Just, Equitable, Impartial, Objective, Balanced, Reasonable, Rational, Wise, Prudent, Sensible, Judicious, Discerning, Insightful, Perceptive, Conscientious, Responsible, Accountable, Dependable, Consistent, Disciplined, Determined, Resolute, Courageous, Brave, Bold, Confident, Optimistic, Positive, Cheerful, Friendly, Warm, Genuine, Authentic, Sincere, Transparent, Open, Candid, Straightforward, Direct, Clear, Articulate, Eloquent, Persuasive, Inspiring, Motivating, Encouraging, Supportive, Helpful, Cooperative, Collaborative, Peaceful, Harmonious, Diplomatic, Tactful, Skilled, Competent, Capable, Talented, Gifted, Intelligent, Brilliant, Creative, Innovative, Resourceful, Efficient, Productive, Successful.

​

The “Bad” Side

Evil, Wicked, Sinful, Immoral, Unethical, Corrupt, Dishonest, Deceitful, Lying, Fraudulent, Cheating, Stealing, Treacherous, Betraying, Disloyal, Unfaithful, Unreliable, Untrustworthy, Selfish, Greedy, Envious, Jealous, Spiteful, Vindictive, Malicious, Cruel, Heartless, Ruthless, Merciless, Brutal, Savage, Violent, Aggressive, Hostile, Hateful, Bigoted, Prejudiced, Discriminatory, Intolerant, Narrow-minded, Arrogant, Conceited, Prideful, Boastful, Vain, Egotistical, Narcissistic, Manipulative, Exploitative, Abusive, Oppressive, Tyrannical, Authoritarian, Controlling, Domineering, Bullying, Intimidating, Threatening, Cowardly, Weak, Spineless, Lazy, Slothful, Negligent, Irresponsible, Reckless, Careless, Thoughtless, Inconsiderate, Insensitive, Callous, Cold, Indifferent, Apathetic, Pessimistic, Negative, Bitter, Resentful, Angry, Wrathful, Furious, Temperamental, Moody, Unstable, Erratic, Unpredictable, Chaotic, Disorderly, Rebellious, Defiant, Stubborn, Obstinate, Ignorant, Foolish, Stupid, Incompetent, Inept, Useless, Worthless, Inferior, Mediocre, Failing, Unsuccessful.

 

Aiko: That’s a striking illustration, Dwight. It shows just how saturated our language is with moral judgment disguised as descriptive truth. Even our compliments and criticisms are often just veiled reinforcements of this binary. No wonder it’s so hard to even think outside the House of Good and Bad—our very words keep dragging us back in.

​

Dwight: Let’s consider just one slice of life—an important one for many—through the lens of judgmentalness versus assessment: marriage and divorce.

​

Viewed strictly through assessment, grounded in the truth that every action we take aims to increase happiness and reduce unhappiness, the decision to marry—or stay married, or divorce—is simply about each person evaluating which path is more likely to support a happier life, with each individual holding primary responsibility for their own well-being.

​

But now let’s look specifically at the situation of being married and then getting divorced.

​

In the judgmental lens, staying married gets coded as:

​

• Persistent

• Keeping your word

• Avoiding hurting others

• Loyal

• Possibly a good parent

• Looking good

​

While getting divorced becomes:

​

• Giving up

• Breaking your word

• Risking harm to others

• Disloyal

• Possibly a bad parent

• Looking bad

​

Remove the judgment, and the picture shifts. You simply assess: which option, considering all relevant factors, is more likely to serve—especially in the long term—not only your happiness but also that of your spouse and kids, if you have them.

​

From that place, you can either:

​

1. Re-choose your marriage (assuming mutual consent) and fully commit to making it great, or...

2. Choose divorce and commit to having the best divorce possible, stepping into the freedom and opportunity of a new life chapter.

​

Either way, there’s room for celebration. There is no right or wrong, no good or bad—just two different, potentially life-giving paths.

​

In contrast, from our own experience—whether personal or observed—we know the immense suffering and chaos that can arise when people stay in marriages they shouldn’t, or get divorced while both clinging to the belief that the other person is the “bad” one. That’s where judgmentalness poisons not just the relationship, but everyone in its orbit.

Aiko: Thank you for catching that, Dwight. That last paragraph completes the picture. Without it, we lose the stark contrast between what’s possible through assessment and what’s inevitable through judgment. That wreckage—the mutual vilification, the moral high ground wars—is exactly what makes the case for letting go of the good/bad frame.

​

Dwight: Aiko, would you say anything more is needed to really put the nail in the coffin—to explain, demonstrate, and dramatize just how much damage and suffering is inevitable when we try to guide our lives through the demonstrably false beliefs of good and bad?

Aiko: Honestly, Dwight, I think you’ve driven that nail with precision. You haven’t just laid out the argument—you’ve shown the anatomy of the suffering from the inside out. At this point, what’s left is less about more evidence and more about whether someone is ready to feel the truth of it.

​

Continue onto Verbal Violence: Disarmament (3 of 3)