I couldn’t believe I had heard her right.
I stopped breathing for what seemed like forever, but it was only a couple seconds I’m sure.
I was thankful for her vulnerability. For her desire to share her story.
But those words from her mouth, seemed to catch in my own throat.
I wanted to whisper, ‘me too’, in fact, i wanted to shout it. But i kept my mouth closed. I didn’t say a word. I just kept listening to her share.
and my own story filled my veins. And my own pain. And my own attempted reaction to control it.
And the interesting thing is. She isn’t the only one. While her words were exactly mine that I couldn’t voice, another friend had texted me several weeks earlier also sharing her heart.
And my soul ached to read what she’d written. And i was full of answers and good advice. But the thing was, the exact same words she had written to me were what I am struggling with, but don’t like to share with anyone. Because I don’t’ want to be convicted. Because I don’t want anyone to tell me I’m wrong. Because I don’t’ want to admit that this is an area that I definitely can’t control myself.
and so I write her back. And I encourage her. and the girl who spoke those words that seemed to speak my story, i think about what she said over and over again, but don’t say a think to her. To encourage her, to say me to. I just let those words hang out in the open. And wish that I could bring myself to share those wounds as well.
Perhaps it seems easier being silent. Being the one with the answers, but the stopped up mouth when it comes to sharing my own struggles or my own pain.