But Words Can Never Hurt Me

I’m depressed. Clinically? Everyone with any sense is depressed when they are incarcerated. The very concept of “locking you up” goes against human nature. My recent struggle with depression is beyond that. I can’t walk around with an “F the world, I don’t care” attitude. That isn’t me. And, as I’ve been told by more than one person, I’m doing “my bid” differently than anyone else.



I learned within the last few weeks that the last dream I clung to, that dream we all have but keep hidden from the rest of the world, has most definitely died. It isn’t that I was surprised. Any rational, thinking person saw the inevitable. But, I had held on to a brief glimmer of hope. And hope isn’t rational. Hope is that belief when all seems lost yet we still try, we still go on because deep down we still believe, however slight, that there’s a chance.


As I said, my dreams officially died recently. But, as a reader pointed out, I’m responsible for what has happened. More troubling is how I took the news. I responded with terribly hurtful words. I am an ass.


Someone sent me a copy of a recent sermon they heard in their church. It was as if their minister was preaching to me. Quoting from the Apocrypha book of Ecclesiasticus, he said the following: “A stroke of the whip raises a weal, but a stroke of the tongue breaks bones. Many have fallen by the edge of the sword, but many more have fallen by the tongue.”


And this from the Gospel of Matthew:


“. . .on the Day of Judgment you will have to give an account for every careless word you utter; for by your words you will be justified, and by your words you will be condemned.”


Pretty powerful stuff. Not much wiggle room. I’m in trouble. Thankfully, God forgives when we acknowledge our mistakes. Love means wanting the best for that person even when it may not be what we want. It’s taken me awhile to find my balance and I’ll never be completely “over it” but the truth is I alone caused the situation I’m in and I left a huge wake of pain, anger and mistrust. I can’t expect that to go away overnight nor can I get righteously indignant when things don’t suddenly fall out the way I want. And, I especially have no right pouring out my pain and frustration on the people most wronged by my behavior. My words hurt.


A good husband, a good father, wouldn’t have done what I did. I owe an apology to three precious people, not only for the mess I made but for venting recently. At the end of the day, if my love is real, I have to want the best for those I love. It isn’t about my dreams, it’s about love.


I want to thank the “Anonymous” reader for blasting me a bit and making me confront some painful truths. Your words helped me.