I have been learning how quickly a feeling can take possession of
me before I have given myself enough time to understand what it is asking me to say,
I have watched a moment of frustration grow teeth in the space between what I feel and what I allow others to hear,
I have sometimes mistaken the relief of releasing my anger for the relief of having told the truth, only to discover that I arrived still carrying wounds I never leave behind,
I wonder how many times I have called my reaction necessary admitting facing the part of me that chose to hurt,
I cannot always prevent the first feeling from rising inside me, still I am responsible for what I allow it to leave behind…
I keep remembering how my body can recover from awkward days, how embarrassment can eventually loosens my grip, how even a painful fall can become something,
I keep forgetting that words do not always return to the person who released them, especially when I spent years learning to protect,
I keep wanting the freedom to speak without restraint, while quietly hoping that others will know which parts of my anger were never meant to become their burden,
I keep asking myself whether I am willing to make someone else carry the cost of my unfiltered pain,
I keep discovering that some apologies begin long after the moment when a little patience could have spared us both…
I know how easily I can become attached to a version that makes me feel powerful, especially when I have felt ignored, dismissed, or made small whose opinion still reaches me,
I know how tempting it is to sharpen my response until it finally sounds strong enough to cover the part of me that was wounded,
I know that winning a moment can leave me alone with the damage afterward, replaying the words I chose and wishing I had found a way to remain honest without becoming cruel,
I wonder whether I am trying to communicate what hurts me, or simply looking for the right words that will make the other person feel what I need to express,
I do not want the pain I carry to become permission to place pain in someone else’s hands…
I am trying to understand what happens inside me during the feeling that arrived when my response has not yet become irreversible,
I am trying to recognize the heat in my chest, the old instinct that tells me I must answer immediately or surrender something I cannot afford to lose,
I am trying to accept that restraint can feel humiliating when every part of me wants to defend itself, require more courage than delivering that perfect reply,
I wonder whether I can let a difficult moment pass through me without turning it into something remember long after I have moved on,
I want to become someone who can speak what is true without leaving or waiting others to heal from the way I chose to say it…
Watchwords:
My feelings before my words
The cost of an unfiltered pain
Winning a moment, carrying the damage
The interval before an irreversible response
Truth without another person’s wounds
Here is Tikatarot, who dares you to answer the question, “Who am I?”..
As and will always be reminding you to dream: