I’m not good at saying wrong things and shrugging it off. A fairly calculating person, I tend to think before I speak or not speak at all, to wait before I do especially if my action affects another person, and to take in my surroundings before I settle in. Even further, as a writer the words I choose are extremely important to me, even if not to anyone else. So when my guard is let down and the filter between thinking and speaking becomes ghostly or nonexistent, it’s possible that I’m going to say something foolish or choose my words wrong.
This happened recently. I wasn’t hurtful by design, and what I said was really only a passing thought, but the person who it was directed towards heard me differently than I intended. Later in the day when I learned this, the unintentional misstep bothered me. My guard went back up. I scolded myself. I felt like stones had fallen out of my mouth and become shackles at my feet, the weight of not being able to erase what’s said out loud causing my steps to be slow and hindered.
The next morning, still reflecting on my inability to “fix it” beyond my feeble attempt to explain better, I made a decision. Those stones aren’t weighing me down unless I let them. I’m the one holding on to them, storing extras in my pockets and allowing myself to be reminded of their presence. I still don’t like saying a wrong thing, but I have to be able to move on from it – especially if the other person has. So I found myself imagining butterflies coming out of my mouth instead of stones. Pretty, multicolored butterflies finding their freedom from me and being carried away on the wind.
I don’t know how to let my practiced guard down around someone and be ok with all of the results, but I can try to learn to breathe butterflies.
The Ooh La La Life 