Words

I'm too sensitive. Sometimes someone says or writes something to me and it cuts right to the quick of my spirit. Other times, a positive word or a compliment can give me a boost for days, months: like the time I wrote a piece, put my heart and soul into it, and my liaison at the publication told me, "That piece was soooo well-written, Desiree." Still warms me, makes me remember that I am where I'm supposed to be.

I spend a lot of time (too much time) thinking about words and what they mean. That makes sense; words are part of my profession. But I also think a lot about words that are said or writen in conversation, words that were meant to shame rather than encourage, to hurt rather than heal. I hate those words. And it takes me some effort and time to forgive the persons who spoke/wrote them.

Now I am by no means innocent of saying the wrong thing to the wrong person at the wrong time. But as I get older, I'm learning to speak less and maintain silence more. I'm developing a healthy fear of wounding someone else like I have been wounded many, many, may times before. And if someone who I have hurt with words is reading this, I'm sorry. Maybe I meant what I said, but I probably could have found a better way to say it to you.

Shalom