Sticks and Stones

Which childhood names dug into your skin and left lasting marks?

My dad and I were talking the other day and for him, it’s Chatterbox. My husband was told his ‘eyes were bigger than his stomach’ by his mom and it hurt to the quick. His dad called him a 'drip’ and that REALLY stung. My grandpa called me a worry wart and I still feel the little piercing in my heart when I think of that.

All of us have laughed off those names dozens of times, but it’s still something we remember vividly. I know I remember Worry Wart even though I was maybe five years old, at the most, when it was said.

Even if we don’t mean to hurt, our words can sometimes take on a mind of their own. There is nothing more frustrating than being misunderstood. I always hope that people will assume the best and not the worst of me, but that’s just not always going to be the case. I’m reminded to take care with what I say and hope that my true intention is what is heard. At least, I try. The rest sometimes just has to be proven. 

Love, cont.

I’m having a hard time saying anything that doesn’t sound trite or meaningless or foolish right now. My mother passed away two days after Christmas and my world has come to a complete stop. There are no words, no amount of tears, no reliving memories…nothing that takes away the pain. I know with time, the heavy sorrow will lift somewhat, but I also know I’ll never be the same again. 

It makes it difficult to do the everyday things. Life just continues on and we’re expected to go on like nothing is different. I know eventually I will have to snap out of it to an extent and be a vibrant human being again, but not yet. It’s just not gonna happen yet.

Prayers needed. All loving thoughts desperately needed. And also…love. Love everyone in your world. Love hard. Tell the people you love how much you value them, how much you need them in your life. You just never know how much time you have on this earth.