Words, Words, Words

Words are singularly the most powerful force available to humanity. We can choose to use this force constructively with words of encouragement, or destructively using words of despair. Words have energy and power with the ability to help, to heal, to hinder, to hurt, to harm, to humiliate, and to humble.

Yehuda Berg
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On the first day of Human Communication 101, my professor came in very late. She was dressed wildly in mismatched styles, sunglasses, and tousled hair. She brought a beach bag, a large purse, a backpack, and a grocery bag with her and dug through each several times to attempt to find different items throughout the class. Closer to the end of class, her dramatics were transformed into our discussion topic when she asked, “What have I communicated to you today?”

In the very next class, she told us, “Every construct has a destruct.” She let it float above our puzzled faces for a few moments and then explained what she meant. “When you are communicating, every time you choose one word, you are also choosing all the words you don’t use.”

Recently, New Tork Times bestselling author Glennon Doyle mentioned on her podcast We Can Do Hard Things about how deeply important words are to her. I often resonate with much of what Glennon has to say, but this moment was like clouds cracking open with beaming rays of light shining down on a hidden treasure that had just been discovered.

For context, they were discussing gender and sexuality labels and how people experience those labels differently. The question arose if labels are trying to define something that may not be definable.

And Glennon responded with this:

“Right. And what you said when we talked this weekend is that the reason it doesn’t bother you that I won’t choose a sexuality or can’t. It’s not that I won’t. I’m not trying to be difficult. I just actually can’t find a word that feels correct. And I’m a writer. Words are really, really important to me. I will not. I’m always trying to desperately use these freaking symbols that are letters and words to accurately send a signal to you that actually really represents a true thing inside of me. And it’s unbelievably frustrating to me. They say a writer is someone for whom writing is harder than the average bear. It’s excruciating to me to try to find words that are true enough. And there is no label that is true enough for me in regards to sexuality, but there’s also no label that is true enough for me in regards to faith. Right? There is no label that’s true enough for me in regard to gender.” (We Can Do Hard Things, “Episode 26: Sexual Desire: How do we know who and what we really want? 14 September 2021”)

This entire response is amazing to me for many reasons, but most of those will be saved for another post.

But what she says about words and language here is so true. I feel this way so often. In conversations with friends and my significant other, trying to communicate with coworkers, writing lyrics or essays or blog posts. Sending a loved one a letter.

And I too feel unbelievably frustrated by it. Not only when I am trying to figure out how to translate my thoughts into a message to share with another person, but also because I have learned to be so aware of word choices that it is very difficult for me to interpret what others are sharing. My mind is trained by “every construct has a destruct” and every message I interpret passes through that filter, whether I want it to or not. It’s not that I don’t understand that other people may not necessarily choose their words with this in mind, but in my desire to want to listen well and understand them as well as possible, I try to decode what they are saying as precisely as I can.

Which, oddly enough, often causes misunderstandings. It is a paradox that haunts my daily interactions.

One thing I learned while studying journalism is that news articles typically should be written at a 5th-grade reading level so that the information being shared can be understood by a much larger number of the general population.

The goal of communicating is to share a message with another person or group of people, is it not? So one has to take into consideration how that message may be interpreted to communicate as clearly as possible. This is why I sometimes have a judgmental attitude toward people who flaunt advanced or specialized vocabulary in regular conversation.

While I know that I have no control over others’ word choices, I often find myself wishing that people would give a little extra effort to say what they actually mean or to at least prioritize making sure that the point of the message they want to send gets through. There are hundreds of times a day that someone will say something that could have several different meanings, but they usually expect me to know which one they are conveying. And I am guilty of wanting others to be mind readers, too! But when I catch myself or get called out for it, I don’t hesitate to try and clarify or word something differently and to try to learn and grow from it.

No one can ever choose all of the perfect words all the time. No one can ever choose all of the perfect words most of the time. But making an effort to? We can do that as often as we are willing.

3600 Seconds Unseen

Note: This is written from a prompt in A Writer’s Year 365 Creative Writing Prompts by Emma Bastow. “You have the power to become invisible, but only for an hour a day. How do you spend that hour?”

What would I do if, for an hour a day, I could go unnoticed, unseen? If I could be completely invisible? On bright fall days where the sun breaks through stratified clouds and Jack-O-Lanterns smile, would their grins stir the playful mischief in my eyes?

If I heard shouting aimed at a child for nothing warranted, would I write a note to slip in their hand saying they are wonderful the way they are, and I was sorry that life is sometimes painful?

Could I eavesdrop near simmering soups in the kitchen of a restaurant and find out which servers were having horrible days and leave some extra cash on their tables? Would I be tempted to venture to the table of the person who hunched over, hiding behind their dropped shoulders, heavy from the weight of years of waiting for change, and knock a drink into the lap belonging to the mouth full of hateful words?

Could I explore abandoned buildings and imagine memories long forgotten and the lives of those who existed there? Climb above rooftops to the edge of a tower and take in the view? Breathe deep the air that I now blend into?

Would I finally shake cold cans of spray paint and leave my mark on the city and my bucket list with a swipe of cerulean and silver or oranges or reds? Bright purples and deep chocolatey browns? Emerald green?

What would it be like to walk through mazes of headstones next to visitors carrying more than flowers and drop feathers or coins nearby for them to discover?

Would I finally be able to see if the dogs whose barks echo at midnight through the streets that wrap around my house are being cared for or forgotten?

Which days would going unnoticed be a gift? Which days would witness it as a curse? Would using it every day diminish it or make it something to be resented? Or would it make life fuller? Would something monotonous, watching tv or doing dishes in the hour where features fade away, feel immoral for wasting something so precious?

Often, being unseen has caused my heart to drop within me. But would it if I wasn’t there to see?

Atlas

Note: This is written from a prompt in A Writer’s Year 365 Creative Writing Prompts by Emma Bastow. “What can’t you leave the house without?”

You wrap around me like a blanket, bearing burdens only Atlas could conceive. You know the shadows of death, the crispness and misery of love, the sight of spilled blood, the cold blade of manipulation pressed against the trembling throat of the soul, the force of an angry fist. Agony at life and crushing guilt from old ignorance long gone. You have seen me beam and felt me fade, never leaving my side.


The gossip of the world whispered deep into my soul, “Do not trust her. She has made you ugly.” Day after day, the hushed voices grew louder within me until I could not block them out; until when I saw you, I did not see myself, only the pain I carry. Once my friend, now my enemy.


I glared at you, unrecognizable. Another betrayal, where only punishment could bring you back. You would not budge.


All that you carried was all that I despised. The heaviest, darkest parts of me, hidden in plain sight.


Steady, you stayed. Waiting for me to catch up.


Until one day I saw that only Hercules was strong enough to give you reprieve from all you carried for me. My dear body, what could be more powerful than the strength you have shown?


No longer deceived; there is nothing but love found in what you have done for me.

Introduction

Do you ever feel like the truest part of yourself isn’t quite acceptable to the world around you? When you try to share your inner thoughts and passions but are met with puzzled looks and furrowed brows? When an awkward silence pulls the breath right out of your lungs?

Maybe you dream of being able to share that your greatest strength is overthinking. Even though you know it in the deepest parts of yourself, you know if you were to say it out loud you most likely wouldn’t get a call back after that interview.

Don’t get me wrong. You know it can sometimes get out of hand and lose its helpfulness. But man, you wish that more people would just put in the effort to think about things a little bit more. After all, you put a lot of effort into it.

If that’s you, you’re not alone.

Being an overthinker can feel lonely at times. But I’m convinced there are plenty of people who can relate. And that’s why I’m here: to exist in the open.

But maybe that’s not you at all. And that’s okay. We’re all different.

Whatever the case may be, it’s definitely me.

You’ll find all kinds of things here from existential topics to songs to art to writing prompts responses and even research.

If you’re here to relate, or if you’re here to see what this is all about, welcome! I’m glad you stopped by.