There are spikey parts of me.
Parts that are less pleasant and are very uncomfortable to look at.
I’ve got a hard and sharp edge that will cut you if you come at me the wrong way.
I saw this yesterday in a telephone conversation I had.
My hard edges were in response to someone not being straight with me about something.
I go all quiet and cold. I give nothing away.
Because I’m trying to get my feet back underneath me. Trying to get my bearings. And while I can’t feel my feet and I don’t know which direction is north I don’t want to move.
Truth is I probably just want to run away and hide for a moment. Think about what is going on, formulate a response, but I don’t feel like this is an option. Running away feels like a failure.
But it’s not running away, or failing, it’s just taking some time to think. And I reckon just calmly stating that and doing it is going to be better for everyone.
In yesterday’s conversation I feel like I did slightly better. Ever so slightly better than I have in the past. I had a sense that something was going on and I (a little too late) just asked for some more time to think everything through.
A little progress is better than no progress.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —