BURNED BRIDGES AND THE COLORS OF YOUR ENDINGS

I am a girl who, at least in relationships, likes Black and White.

I want to know where we stand. I want to know if we're okay or if we're not.

If we're not, I want to lay all our chips on the table and fight out the things that are broken until they're not broken anymore.

Or if they can't be fixed, I want to know that too. I don't want to go on wondering if things can ever be okay again or not. I want to know.

I want to know why.

And if we decide that things can't be okay, I want to shut the door. I want to end the chapter and our story... I want to know that it's okay to start a new one.

I guess they call that closure.

But sometimes I guess that I need to learn that it's not a bad thing if doors don't close all the way. It's okay to leave them open a little just in case it's a story that isn't really ended yet. It's okay to not know what happened, and it's okay to simply let the ending be.

It's okay to be hurt and it's okay to be mad and it's okay to be upset about the things that don't feel fair. You aren't wrong to feel those things, and don't let people tell you that you are.

But just because all those things are true... it doesn't mean that you have to burn your bridges.  Just let it be...  maybe you cross that bridge again some day. Maybe you don't.  But... this way, at least you can if you decide that you want to.

Not every ending has to be Black and White...  sometimes they can be a little Grey.

THURSDAY TALES: BAD BLOOD

I scanned the lunchroom and my heart sank.  One seat in the whole place... and it was across from her. The girl who had somehow become something like an arch-nemesis.

I didn't hate her... there was just bad blood. Old bickerings, old insults.  They still hung in my mind, and maybe they still hung in hers. But it was either there or in the pouring rain outside. What choice did I have?

Practically tiptoeing up to the chair, I slid into it quietly -- like if I didn't make a sound, she wouldn't notice that I was there. I kept my eyes downcast... but the sigh of disgust that blew my way let me know that my ruse was up. Our eyes met and I mumbled, "Sorry."

We sat there in uncomfortable silence as I carefully laid out my lunch...  Avoided looking at each other, avoided speaking to each other.

Finally, I blurted out, "Look, can we start over? This is silly..."

She looked at me a long time, and then shrugged, "Yeah, sure, whatever."

Talk was stilted... but at least polite.  But when her friends walked up and she got up to join them, their words floated back to me.

"Why are you sitting with her?" they asked.
"Ugh... she just sat down. She's so awful."

Tears stung the back of my eyes...  of course they did. But I made a choice in that moment.

Maybe there would always be bad blood...  it just wasn't going to be mine.

FIXING YOURSELF BY BREAKING SOMEONE ELSE

Have you ever tried to fix yourself by breaking someone else? It doesn't work very well, does it? Sometimes it's person-specific... maybe they hurt you, and you want them to hurt back. Sometimes it's a lot more general... you're having a crappy day, and gosh darn it, if the world isn't going to have a crappy day too!!

The thing about breaking other people to fix yourself is that it's a lot like emotional eating. It gives you a bit of satisfaction for that moment that you're engaged in it... but when that moment is over, you're left with guilt and regret ---  and have done absolutely nothing to fix the problem that you were trying to solve in the first place.

Breaking someone else to make yourself feel better is a little like that. It fills an ugly little hole in your heart for a moment... but it's an even uglier fix to a problem that you still haven't solved -- only created new ones on top of your brokenness.

So what can we do?

First, I think that we have to recognize that we're even doing it. You can't stop something if you don't know what it looks like.  Just become aware of it... even if that's after you've done it.  But at least become aware.

We have to think of ways that we can create the same emotional response other than making them feel bad too.  Then, before we open our mouths, we can stop, acknowledge that we're looking for that response, and choose a different mode of getting it -- preferably one that doesn't hurt someone else.

And when we stop creating more problems for ourselves all the time, we can actually go about the business of healing the wounds that needed the emotional salve in the first place.

We can fix ourselves without breaking others... in fact, maybe it's the only that we can.

BITCHES, BEMUSEMENT, AND BLOSSOMING

So... apparently I was called a bitch last night.

There was a time that I would have let this really get to me. I'd chew on it, I'd be bothered by it. I'd lose sleep over it... I'd take it out weeks down the road and work over it again and again. But I'm not going to do that this time.

I've learned some things about people and about myself over the last few years...  some things that are easy to remember, and some things that I have to remind myself.

Not everyone is going to like you...  even the most perfect among us is going to find people who will pick them apart. So you can't let the people who abhor you define who you believe that you are. They see you through black-tinted glasses, and they're going to see what they want to see. They're going to interpret your words and actions in the way that supports what they think about you... and I'm not sure that there's really a lot that you can do about that.  The only person you can control is you.

But the part you can control is not letting their opinion about you matter. If they hate you that much, I'd be willing to bet that they aren't someone that you like a lot either. So why are you letting them matter? Why are you allowing yourself to lose sleep over someone whose opinion you needn't care about that much anyway?

Do you know whose opinion does matter?  Yours. Your friends. Your family.  The people who love you and who you love... the people who are important in your life.  Their opinions of you matter... but the people who hate you?  They honestly don't.  And if you're letting yourself get worked up over the opinions of people who don't figure into the value of your life at all...  you have to ask yourself Why? Why do they get to matter?

I once was trying to explain to my husband about a situation that had me upset, trying to communicate why I was bothered.  After I got done speaking, he said to me something that has stuck with me for a long time.  And what he said was this:

"I can understand why you're upset...  

but what I don't understand is why you would let the opinion of 

bitter unhappy people change the person that you are."

And he was right...

So what I want to say today is this...

To the person who hates me...  I'm honestly sorry that you do, and I hope that what you said last night made you feel better. I don't hate you, and I can afford to be forgiving. I just think that we have very different value systems and perhaps those don't mesh well together.

To the person hurt by someone who hates them... I'm so sorry for your hurt. Something I have learned is that oftentimes the way someone treats you is far more about who they are than who you are. Wrap yourself in the love of the people who love you and know that you have much to offer the world. Don't hide your candle because of an ill wind. The world needs your light. Please don't let them change who you are.

AN HONEST LETTER

To You Who Shall Remain Nameless...

I have a thing I need to say... and I should say it to you. But I don't want to fight or get the run around... and so I cowardly say it here, where I don't think you read. 

I'm mad at you.

I'm mad at you... but probably, hurt. We're supposed to be friends. You can't just disappear for days, weeks, months from the people you say that you care about. And yet, you do. You disappear... and you're unreachable. You ignore everything I say to you like it doesn't matter. Every confiding, every question into how you are.

And then suddenly you jump back, and you're here again and you seem like you want my friendship. I know that you're busy. I know this because you tell me every time you jump back, and though it may not seem like it, I can understand that.  But I also understand that we make time for the things and the people that are important to us. So how can I make any conclusion other than that I'm not?

I used to think it was me when you would disappear. I used to think I had done something... said something that bothered you, did something that made you mad... somehow made myself someone that you didn't think was worth your friendship and your caring.  And I would beat myself up... blame myself, criticize myself.

Eventually, I realized it wasn't me. I hadn't done anything wrong. I hadn't said anything wrong. This was just how you were... popping in and out of my life like your absence didn't matter. The thing you've never understood is that it did. And it does.

I'm mad at you, and I'm hurt that you've disappeared again. But the thing is... I don't want to not be friends. But I want to be friends in a way that's respectful to us both. When you are here, I enjoy us. I enjoy talking to you, and knowing what you think, and knowing you're interested in what I think. But, I never know when that's going to disappear. Can you understand why being friends on slippery ground is tough?

You won't read this and we won't fight about it. You won't give me excuses that don't really mean anything. And I won't tell you that it's okay.

But maybe I feel a little better, just for having said it outloud.

Me

ALL OF A SUDDEN, THINGS ARE DIFFERENT

And, all of a sudden, things are different.

All of a sudden, what you knew has changed. Who you understood yourself to be... has changed. 

You can't do what you did anymore. You can't say what you said... because things are different. You changed them.

and it's strange because they're different.

But, you know that it's right.. at least for now... because it feels so comfortable. And maybe you're not quite sure where you are supposed to be right now, what you are supposed to be doing.  Maybe it's not clear to you yet. 

But, you know it's not what you left. 

You'll find your way. People like us, we always do. And when your way opens up, you'll find who you are again. You'll find what you're meant to do, who you're meant to be.

I've a feeling that you might already know.

I'VE BEEN THINKING

I've been thinking a lot about friendship lately. I've been thinking about what is reasonable to expect from a friendship, and what is not. 

I've been thinking where I fall on those things.. where I'm a good friend, where I'm not.  Where I have been and where I haven't.

I've been thinking about honesty, and what that means. I've been thinking about how honesty isn't just "not lying" and how misleading inferences and omission of the truth is just as dishonest as outrightly speaking lies.

I've been thinking about respect and the importance of showing up... and how it really isn't that hard.

I've been thinking about grace and forgiveness. I've been thinking about patience.

I've been thinking about the pulling-in that happens when someone speaks unkindly to you.

I've been thinking about all these things...  and perhaps sometime, I'll be ready to write more about them.  

But today, I'm just thinking about them.

WHEN YOUR ROAD ISN'T THE SAME

Sometimes the road you're meant to walk down isn't the road that everyone else is taking.

You meander off on your own... down a path that you know that you're meant to take. But, when you look around, you realize that everyone else seems to be walking a different one.

And it's not that you doubt that yours is the right one for you to be on...  but at the same time... you kind of do. Maybe the other road is better simply because it's more often walked. Surely there is a reason for its popularity that you have somehow missed.

And so you doubt.  You doubt your road. You doubt your destination. You doubt yourself.

But popular doesn't necessarily equate to better. More-travelled doesn't necessarily equate to right. Company doesn't necessarily equate to truth.

So if you honestly feel that the road you're walking is the right road to take, remember that it's okay to go your own way. It's okay if no one walks yours with you. It's okay if no understands why you need to follow that path.

Sometimes you go the way no one else is going to become someone that no one else is meant to be.

THURSDAY TALES: MEANT TO BE SOMEONE ELSE

I was meant to be someone else.

I know that everyone says that at some point. They look at their life and where they are and they decide that this wasn't where they were meant to be. This is wasn't who they meant to be.  But I really mean it.

I was meant to be someone else. It's in the paperwork.

I'm sure I wasn't supposed to find the paperwork. I was in the attic, putting away some boxes for Mr. Baker, and I accidentally knocked one over.  As I put the files back in the banker box, my eyes fell on one with my name.

"JESSICA TANKER - PRIVATE"

Well, what would you do?

I opened it.  I opened it and then I sat down.

My name is Jessica Tanker. I live at 375 Firefly Lane with my mom, my dad, my two sisters, and my dog. I'm a banker's apprentice because that's what it says on my paperwork. You do what the paperwork says. That's the rule. So I went to school, and I did well. And now, I work with Mr Baker at the First National Bank on Main Street.  That's what the paperwork should say.

But that's not what this paperwork said.

It was my picture, but not my name. Not my parents. Not my sisters. Maybe my dog. It wasn't my occupation or my history. It was like reading about someone else. Someone I'd read about in stories, someone I dreamed about being -- but... they were just dreams. Weren't they?

I slipped the file into my bag, and I went about my work.  And I went home. When dinner started, I slid it onto the table. I put my hands in my lap, my eyes on my plate, and I whispered, "Dad... who am I really?" I didn't look up.

The silence lasted a long time.  But my dad finally broke it by speaking to my mother across the table. "Marjorie...  lock the door. I guess it's time."

YOUR HARDENED HEART

It hurt when they lied to you, when they couldn't see the plea in your heart. Didn't it?

And so you hardened yours, and you turned away, and you said it didn't matter. You said you were fine.

But you weren't. Not really. A hard heart isn't fine.

You tried to make it okay. And you tried to heal. And you tried to forgive. Maybe you were successful, maybe you weren't. And yet your heart is still hard.  Because if you don't soften it, then it can't be hurt again.

Then, you can't be hurt again.

But a hard heart doesn't get to feel much love, either. A hard heart is tough to find a way into, and repels a multitude of attempts.

You want to protect... but what you really need to do is trust.  Even if you get hurt again, what you need is trust.

NEVER SPEAK OF IT

We said we'd never speak of it. I know.

And so we don't, at least not in words.  

But the fact of it hangs in the air.

It's in the way we don't speak of it. It's in the sidelong glances and the heaviness of the silence. 

It's in the awkwardness and the stops and the starts. It's in the politeness. 

It's in the way we tiptoe around it, lest one of us slips.

We don't talk about it. We pretend it isn't there, and we're afraid of what speaking of it would do. 

How would it change things? What parts of us would it break? 

What parts could we never get back?

So we tiptoe, and we talk about other things. We stay where it's safe.

But I think we both know we're pretending... and that as long as we play it safe...

...we aren't playing it real.

WHEN "I'M FINE" ISN'T

You answered that you were just fine when I asked you how you were doing. The road Life had pushed you onto looked like a hard one to me, and so I was concerned for you, my friend.

You said you were fine... and I believed you.

And you looked fine! You handled every obstacle with bravery. You faced every trial with dignity. You never complained, you just did what needed to be done.

So I believed you and I let myself worry about you less. 

You were brave and you didn't call attention to your struggle... and I forgot. I forgot that even though you were strong and even though you were quiet and even though you weren't calling out...

Even though all those things were true, I forgot you were still struggling. And I forgot to pay attention.

And I forgot that "I'm fine" doesn't always means "I don't need you." 

Sometimes "I'm fine" means "I'm doing okay... because you're here and because you care."

And so, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I forgot to see the struggle, and I'm sorry that I didn't make more effort to be here.

I forgot you needed me.

THURSDAY TALES: HIS LOSS

(on Monday)

Things ended.

So I got my hair cut, and I rejoined that gym. I bought a new dress. My friends took me out to brunch and told me how much better off I was without him.  How I was more than he deserved. How I was lucky to be free again.

Maybe they were right. So I told myself the same thing.  That I'm better off without him. That I'm more than he deserved. That I'm lucky to be free again.

And maybe I'm right.

But relationships don't exist in vacuums, and their demise doesn't lie on the shoulders of any single one of us. We ended because of things he did, yes.  But we ended because of things I did, too. And things he didn't do and things I didn't do.  And things we did and didn't do together.

And while my friends are taking me out to brunch and telling me how much better off I am now...  I know that his friends are doing the same thing.  Taking him out for drinks, telling him I was crazy, and that he's way better off without me, how lucky he is to be free again.

Maybe they're right too.  Maybe everyone is right.

But... as much as I toss my head and bring up every one of his offenses...  as often as I say, "Well, it's his loss!"  If I'm honest?  If I'm truly honest and I look deep into my heart, I know that the loss is mine, too.

And maybe we're better off apart, maybe that's true. But I loved what we were when we were together, too. And so I miss that... and I grieve that...

It wasn't just his loss.  It was ours.

THE MASKS WE'VE FORGOTTEN

What kind of masks do you wear? What does the world think about you that isn't quite true?

I remember once, I was talking to a friend that I mostly only knew online... and I was confiding about how much I struggle with worrying about what people think of me, or about the people who I know don't like me or about my own self-consciousness.

She was incredulous. She had no idea and thought that I always seemed so confident, so sure of myself... that me being self-conscious never even entered her mind as a possibility.  Not only that, but she said that she admired me for that confidence.

And it was so outside of what really lies in my heart that I had to laugh.

I think I'm pretty open here in this blog, so probably my insecurities wouldn't be a surprise to the people who are regular readers here. But, you guys, I'm a mess.  I'm a jumbled screwed-up mess of self-doubt, self-consciousness, self-everything! Half of the things I write here are pep talks for myself. And sometimes I worry that you're going to think I'm a broken record, that I just talk about the same things over and over, and I'm crazy in the head for not being able to let things go.

But you're right!  You're not wrong at all.  I am crazy in the head and I just vomit this stuff all over the internet. But I can't seem to learn the lessons, and I still need the pep talks.

Maybe I'm just stubborn.

Sometimes even I don't know the masks I wear. They're comfortable, and they're familiar. And they cover up the things that I'm afraid to reveal. But, over the years, I've worn them so much, I think they're me. I've forgotten that they're masks, and that they aren't really me.

Sometimes I need to remember.

THURSDAY TALES: A CINDERELLA ENDING

I know it's not Thursday, but this just showed up in my head this morning. :)

"Are there any other girls living in the house?" The words of the official floated into the kitchen from the living room.

I held my breath, waiting for the answer, as the dishwater dripped from my hands into the sink. "Oh... just Ellie," my stepmother answered.  Oh, just Ellie, I mimicked in my head. That woman just got under my skin. I couldn't wait until I had saved up enough side money to get my own place. "But, she never goes anywhere. She can't possibly be the girl you're looking for."

I laughed in my head. Oh, how little you know. But, for once, I was glad for her dismissal of me. It made things so much easier.

But, the poor schmuck saddled with the drudging task argued, "I'm sorry, ma'am. But my orders are to try this shoe on EVERY unmarried girl in town."

I could hear my stepmother sigh dramatically before calling, "Ellie!  Get in here!!!"

This was about to get complicated.  Ladies, if you find yourself saddled with a fairy godmother, make sure all her abilities are intact.  Like, oh I don't know... her hearing.  "I want to be tall" really isn't the same thing as "I want to go to the ball."  I'm just saying. Wiping my hands on the dishtowel, I stepped into the room, hoping the baseball cap I had stuffed my hair into would be enough to shield my face from being recognized.

"Miss," the official nodded his head slightly, with the smallest of smiles tugging up the corners of his mouth. I should have recognized Mr. Thomas's voice... the prince's security supervisor... and his best friend. This wasn't going to be easy to get out of. "Take a seat, please."

Gesturing at my cleaning clothes, I protested, "Is this really necessary? Surely, you can see that I'm not really the ball type."

"Just sit." Oh, why didn't I go back for that stupid shoe? Shouldn't fairy godmothers give you clothes that fit?

I kicked off my sneaker, and offered my thickly socked foot to Mr Thomas.

"Ah, nice try," he smiled. "Socks, too?"  I tugged one off and tossed it onto the floor, once again proferring the appendage for examination. "Thank you."  He slipped the shoe onto my foot, and sat back. "Huh.  Seems to fit pretty well, actually."

My stepmother rushed forward to argue. "Mr. Thomas, I assure you that Ellie was nowhere near the palace any of the last few nights. There is absolutely no way that she could be the girl you're looking for."

Mr. Thomas rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "Is that so, Mrs. Baker?"  He turned his gaze on me. "Is that true? And consider yourself on the record, if that helps your tongue."

I glared at him and wriggled uncomfortably. "Well... it's not... exactly... true. It's... possible... that I might have slipped into the building."

"Mmmhmm." Mr Thomas turned to speak into his intercom. "Tell the prince I found his girl, Doug.  And bring him pronto."

I groaned. "Mr. Thomas... I assure you, I'm not what the prince thinks I am."

"Oh, I can see that, miss.  But, the prince is so taken, he's ordered the whole place searched for you." His gaze travelled over my clothes. "Not sure what he'll say when he sees you like that, though."

I stuck my tongue out at him. They can't jail you for that, right?

Still on his knees at my feet, he looked up at me and said quietly, "You could have said something at the ball. This all would have been much different."



I paced the room for the next 20 minutes, biting my fingernails and waiting for the royal car to arrive. When it did, the prince jumped out, not even waiting for the door to be opened for him.  Rushing into the house without knocking (charming, eh?), he addressed Mr. Thomas. "Chris, you found my girl?"

Mr Thomas nodded slowly. "She may not be what you're expecting."

The prince turned to me and fell at my feet, "Oh my sweet girl, I can't believe I found you. I've had Chris searching every house for three days!"

"Yes... I saw on the news..."

He grabbed my hand and kissed it. "It's no matter, it's no matter.  Now that I've found you, we can marry and you can move into the castle and you can have everything...  No more dishes!  No more... of whatever that is you're wearing... My god, I can't believe --"

"Your Highness," I interrupted him gently. "I...  I don't really know how to say this.  You're a really sweet guy, and I had a lot of fun at the ball. Really, I did, and I just want to thank you for the dances. But... I don't really think I'm ready to marry you... possibly ever.  I'm sorry that you went to all this trouble."

"But," he looked at me in confusion. "I'm the prince."

"Yes, I know who you are."

"And you came to the ball. And we danced!"

"Yes...  yes... I was there."

"And I'm the prince." He just couldn't seem to get off that.

"You said that already." I looked over his shoulder to Mr. Thomas for help, but he just grinned at me and shrugged in amusement. "Look, you're really nice and sweet and handsome, and I'm sure that you will find a girl who loves you and who wants to move into your castle and all that... stuff.  But... it's just not me."  I stood up and took his hand, leading him to the door. "It's okay... You'll be okay. You'll have another ball and find another girl to hunt down stalkerally and to live happily ever after with.  Just not with me."

He wandered down the path back to the car, muttering... "But I'm the prince.  She can't say No.  I'm the prince.

I sighed and turned to Mr. Thomas. "He'll be okay, right?"

He smiled, "Oh sure... he falls in love every week."

I opened my mouth to speak... stopped...  and tried again. "Mr Thomas..."

He shook his head, "Please... after all this, you can call me Chris."

I chewed the inside of my cheek. "I wasn't lying to the prince. I did have a good time at the ball... but... I don't really think it was because of the prince. And I know you're busy, tracking down a lot of smitten girls. But...  if you ever have time for a cup of coffee...  you know where to find me."

"Miss Ellie...."  he put a finger to my chin and tilted my face toward his. "I just may do that."

I smiled. "But... just coffee. Don't get any ideas!"

THURSDAY TALES: THE INVITATION

I could jump.

I could jump, slip into the sea, and I could leave it all behind. There isn't even anyone to miss me anymore.

Can I tell you about it? The story of how I ended up here on this rock, staring into the sea below? I've heard it helps sometimes.... the telling. I'm just not sure whether I want it to help me get off onto the shore... or down into the water.

It begins simply, as I imagine most stories do. We just go about our lives, not expecting that anything extraordinary is about to happen. Maybe that's our problem - the not-expecting.  It takes us so completely by surprise when it does happen that we get swept up in it before we can blink... or sometimes don't even know it's happening until it's too late to change it. Too late to go back.

We can never go back.

SOME OF MY FAVORITES

Maybe you're a new reader to the blog, or maybe you've been with me from the beginning and beyond.  But, there's a lot of posts around here, and maybe it's a little daunting?  I had occasion to read through some of my old posts the other day, and I thought maybe it might be nice to go back and go through some of my favorites.

I know this probably still seems like a lot... but I culled it down from over 900!

Change

Change -- "Change isn't one simple choice. It's a process of a series of steps."

Becoming is Hard -- A poem of sorts about the pain of Becoming.


More on Change

Masks and Being Yourself

Be You -- "They can't stop you from being you. Only YOU can stop you from being you, and don't you dare let 'them' be the reason that you hold back anymore."

Behind the Mask -- Who would you be if you took off your mask?

Beautiful Girl -- Did you know that you are beautiful?  Yes, you.

More on Masks and Being Yourself

Friendship

Love Isn't About Competition -- You get to choose what you put your time into...  are the relationships you're putting time into right now worth the investment?

What You Put Up With -- "They say that what you put up with is what you end up with. What are you putting up with?"


More on Friendship

Hope

There Is Hope -- When your heart breaks and your soul cries out, There is hope.

Word of the Day: Hope -- Sometimes hope is all we have to hold onto...  A piece written when a friend was quite ill.

More on Hope

Hurt and Healing

Picking Up When You've Lost -- Starting again when you've been broken...

You Will Come Back -- "Over time, I came back to myself. Because you do. That season of heartache doesn't last forever, and you eventually come back to yourself."


More on Hurt and Healing

Letting Go

I'm Glad I Walked Away -- Sometimes you have to let go of unhealthy friendships

Letting Go Bit by Bit -- Do you let go all at once?  Or can you only stand it a little teensy bit at a time?

More on Letting Go

Fear

Bravery -- "Baby, being brave isn't about not being afraid. Being brave is about being afraid but doing what you're afraid of, anyway."

Don't Wait -- "Why do we let fear stop us from saying the things our hearts beg us to say?"



More on Fear

Kindness

A Simple Thought -- Kindness when people hurt you...


Guts to Be Kind -- "It's being kind to the people you don't like, the people who rub you wrong, the people you don't agree with, the people who do things that you just don't understand... that's the hard part."

More on Kindness

Trust and Forgiveness

Tearing Down the Walls -- Learning to trust again after you've built up walls to protect yourself...

I Can't Trust You -- What if it's yourself that you can't trust?

Challenge of Forgiveness -- "The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong." -- Mahatma Gandhi

Forgiven but Not Forgotten -- Do you struggle with being trusting, forgiving, AND wise?  Me too.


More on Trust and Forgiveness

WHEN YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT TO SAY

What do you say when you don't know what to say?  When the heartache of someone you love is so deep and so hurtful... and you know that anything you said, any words you found...  they wouldn't be enough. They wouldn't be enough to change what hurts, or to cut through their pain to salve, or to even communicate how much your heart hurts for the pain theirs is feeling.

What do you say when there is literally nothing to say, nothing that could possibly be said?

Maybe the best you can do, though it never feels like it's enough, is simply to be there. Show up. Just show up. Let them know that you're there and that you're a safety net when holding on to their pain becomes too painful.

That hard roads don't have to be walked alone.

WHEN THEY MAKE YOU FEEL SMALL

I had an experience last week where I had a conversation with someone who always comes across as very condescending.  I hate that just about more than anything. To be talked down to is not a nice place to be. And as the evening wore on, I found myself more and more furious at the situation, at the person.

As I thought about that, I sort of began to realize that I wasn't angry over the words that were said. I was angry over the way they were said. I was angry because the person made me feel small. They made me feel like they thought I was stupid. They made me feel like less than I am. Like I don't know what I want, or what's good for me.

I couldn't do anything about the other person. But, I could do something about me.

Eleanor Roosevelt is credited with the saying, 

"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."

If you don't let someone else's words matter to you, they lose their power over you. They lose their ability to control how you feel, how you see yourself.

So, I took a breath (after I vented at everyone I knew). I thought about all the things that I knew to be true. And I remembered who I was.

Suddenly, I didn't feel small anymore. I didn't feel less-than. I felt like me... in all the beautiful ways I get to be me.

And it was good.

A MISTAKE?

A mistake?  No, I wouldn't call us a mistake.


I walked into this with my eyes wide open. Didn't you? I mean, I knew there was a risk involved. I knew I was giving the keys to my heart away. I knew I was giving you power that you might yield. I guess I just didn't think you'd yield it in quite the way that you have.

But, I wouldn't call it a mistake. It's not something I regret.

How could I? I put my trust in you. And I willingly put my heart in your hands. I let go of the fear of what might happen, and instead embraced what could happen. I can't regret that. Opening myself up to the possible was amazing. Letting go of my fears was amazing. And even if you couldn't see what I gave you, the experience was amazing while it lasted.

That's not something to regret. That's not a mistake to mourn.

That was finally living.

I'm only sorry for you that you couldn't enjoy it, that you couldn't see it, that you couldn't appreciate it.