I’m not a very nice person.  I mean, I try.  But I don’t succeed.

I get grumpy when I’m tired.  I get down right vicious when I’m hungry.  I snap.  I say mean things.  For no reason, really.

It’s an interesting thing to contemplate.  This evening I snipped at my husband because he asked me a few times if I was okay with the movie he picked for us to fall asleep to (I almost need a movie and background talking to fall asleep.  It’s probably not healthy).  Maybe he asked me more than once because he didn’t hear my response the first time.  Maybe he wanted to make sure I wasn’t just humoring him.  I don’t know.  He wasn’t being malicious.  But I spewed venom for no reason.

And here’s the thing.  Words are very powerful.  Words can heal.  But they can also hurt.  They cripple. Do untold damage. They stay with you for years, a haunting echo in the back of your brain.  I can name multiple things that have been said to me over time that I still carry with me — that have affected the way I live my life and the person I am.  And who knows if I truly need to be carrying those weights?  Who knows if I even understood the message at the time  … if I’m even remembering things correctly.  I know how they made me feel.  And when something hurts you, wounds you to the marrow of your bones … it isn’t easily forgotten.

I want to pause for a moment and remind myself that it is important to always think before I speak.  To consider the consequences of my words.  Is hurting someone instantly worth it in the long run?  What do I get out of that?  What does it say about me?

I find that oftentimes my words are most harsh in moments of my own insecurity.  When I feel vulnerable.  My ability to cut someone down is a defense mechanism.  Trying to be conscious of that is a forever job.  I don’t think it ever gets easier.  Perhaps, with time,  I just get a little more thoughtful and I pause.