Scraped knees2Do you ever have those days when you wake up with eyes swollen, puffy and red due to a crying jag from the night before? Sometimes it is because of a wonderful or wonderfully sad book I have been reading late into the night, or because of a mood I am in due to what I call “just being a girl”, or other times it is because I am a mom, or a wife or a daughter. However it happens, it leads to a morning when I am lethargic, reflective, tired, all in all just a slug.

This time the puffy eyed morning was due to what seemed like an all-out war, a small disagreement that led to anger and words that can never be unheard or unsaid. Words that once strewn about so carelessly leave damage in their wake. I am a casualty of the words this time, but I have shot my fair share of victims with my sharp shooting tongue as well.

Why is it that when emotion renders effective communication unfeasible, the first instinct is to go for the throat with words of hate and anger. I am sad today. It is draining to try to recover from the wounds that anger inflict, to remember that what is said is not always what is really meant. Especially when inside, deep inside, I feel like it is true. That all of the terrible things said to me really do come from a place of truth and anger and dislike. Dislike of me and who I am. How I am. The words take on the power of the truth I believe, they lodge in the pit of my stomach twisting with each memory of remembered pain. The pain pulls me inside, withdrawing from feeling at all. It is difficult to feel anything when you retract into that protective shell. The place where words do not matter and the feelings that surround them cannot hurt you.

I struggle living in a world where so few ever say what they really think, or act in a way the reveals anything genuine. Nothing deeper than a litany of sounds used to get the desired result from whatever audience you are trying bend to your desire. I long to be genuine to be heard and to listen. To have honest dialogues that do not need to be guarded and measured. But it is impossible when there are lies and deceit and mistrust. How do you get to a place of healing when you have gone down that dead end road so many times? So for now, I will hide and heal, and hope that the person who loves and want to be loved will return. Return to do more than just crawl through the day. However, some days crawling is as good as it gets.




  1. Michele, I really do understand. I know that you will come out of that shell because you have so much to say for the rest of us. Relax in God’s loving arms, speak His truth to yourself of who you are, and heal. Love you.

    1. Thank you for this, sometimes writing is healing and it is just a bump. But sometimes when the bumps are big enough they take longer to recover from. I am grateful I have so many places to look for support. hugs.

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