Words Matter

I was driving to church, which for a normal person it would be about a forty-five-minute drive, for me, it’s more like a half-hour drive. Most of the drive I am usually jamming to the same song on repeat, but I also do reflect a lot during these drives. This morning I reflected on how my dream job would be to write and be able to live on whatever income it provided. Since my mind is like a squirrel’s and it really jumps from one thought to another in a matter of seconds I thought about Aunt Debbie and her words in comparison to how I am living my life without her.

Disclaimer: Anyone who knows me, knows how much I love Aunt Debbie and I wouldn’t have made it to where I am without her. She was my best friend for nearly twenty years. Those who know her also know how she could be, especially with her words. Please, don’t let what I say change whatever positive thoughts you have of her because she was one of the most loving and caring people I will ever know.

The words she said effected me when she was alive but so much more after she died. I think it was because I was in it and then I was out of it and really saw the damage she did with her words. I would go as far to say she verbally abused me. The dangerous thing was that she ultimately didn’t realize she did it, at least most of the time, especially with me.

She would pick out the little things that weren’t the prettiest of me and focus on them. Some were things I wasn’t even conscious about until she kept talking about them. Even to this day I still catch myself being self-conscious about those things because she would focus on them. She would also say I was a pig when I ate too much, which now that I think about it is probably why I do have trouble eating a lot of food. One time she even said to me, “For a bit, I was worried you were going to be ugly forever.” I am glad I didn’t realize she had that thought until later or I probably would have had even deeper issues. She always told me I was a terrible writer. When I had just started this blog I had someone tell me that I was a really good writer (and the person who told me was also a writer and did it as a living). I told Aunt Debbie that I was surprised, she said, “Me too because you’re a terrible writer.”

The things she focused on involving me and what I was bad at or I shouldn’t even try going for are some of the things that I love doing and are my dreams. I would even say are some things that I have excelled at in the last few years.

I love to write and over the years I have had multiple people tell me that I should write for a living. Writing was something I never thought I should go for even though I loved it because Aunt Debbie said I was bad at it. She would also focus on my cousin who also loved to write and in Aunt Debbie’s eyes was just this amazing writer (which she is). Now to come to think about it that is probably why I have compared so much to that cousin and thought I was below her because we liked similar things growing up and Aunt Debbie thought she was better than me at just about everything we both enjoyed doing.

Aunt Debbie had her issues. She had to go through some crazy stuff that screwed her up. I think that is why when she was alive I just allowed her to say the things she said. I knew she was dealing with things so because I loved her I took it.

When I got to college we fought more than ever because I started to learn that what she said to me wasn’t right and not a normal way people talked to others. I would fight back which during the last year of her life we both said things that we shouldn’t have said. We were also fighting on a daily basis. One time she told our neighbor, “She loves me, but she doesn’t like me.” I remember that day like it was yesterday because my heart hurt. We were both just so broken by this time and didn’t know how to help the other.

These three years living in a world without Aunt Debbie have been some of the worst but best years of my life. I miss her every day, but I don’t want her here. She is finally out of physical and emotional pain. The pain that made her a terrible guardian, let alone a guardian of a child who went through extreme trauma. There were times I wished I had gone into the foster care over being with Aunt Debbie and then there were many times that I had wished my cousin would have adopted me instead. I thought maybe then I would have healed shortly after mom died instead of almost twelve years later. I also know God’s timing is perfect and I wouldn’t be who I am without living with Aunt Debbie.

Even though it was an unhealthy and even dangerous environment at times, I ultimately chose her over anything. I could have called CPS and they would have taken me out of her custody easily. I did think about it once or twice, but she was my home.

She did love me more than just about anything even if she couldn’t properly show it at times. She gave me my love for words and puzzles. I probably wouldn’t love writing as much as I do if it wasn’t for her. She really was a loving person, but she had so much trauma that she never could heal from or learn how to communicate in a healthy and proper way. The last couple of years she really did start to find God and change how she did and said things. It was also in ways too late for her to be able to change completely.

She also was dangerously attached to me and I think it scared her that I was getting older and needed to do things on my own. Mom left Aunt Debbie in charge of me. My mom was a very headstrong woman who intimidated a lot of people, especially when it came to me. I think Aunt Debbie was terrified of letting her sister down when raising me. In some ways, Aunt Debbie did a great job of raising me and other ways she didn’t. Thinking back, I don’t think it was a coincidence that God chose to take Aunt Debbie when He did. He protected both of our hearts by taking her when He did.

In conclusion, WORDS MATTER.

Be cautious of your words. What you say to someone can stay in their heads for many years after they are said. I encourage you to make positive words outweigh the negative. There is so much hate in this world and believe it or not, one person can make a difference. YOU. CAN. MAKE. A. DIFFERENCE.