Uhming and Ahing.

When I listen to your bad news, words fail me. I sit and feel like I have a mouth full of dough. My head gets empty and all I can do is blurt the most inadequate nonsense, like “Shame!” or, ”No!” When what I want to do is cover you in a secure blanket of reassurances and promises. When you talk about troubles and difficulties, I loathe the Dr Phil aphorisms that drip from my mouth like deceiving syrup on a pancake- sweet for a few minutes, but just causing the brief fizz in the bloodstream before the sweetness is absorbed by the ruthlessly continuing mechanics of life.

When I hear your good news, I want to use the most humungous, ginormous, awesome hyperbole to shower you with the acknowledgement you deserve to feel. I want you to feel better than sex or drugs or rock n roll could ever make you feel, and yet, the best I can come up with in the power of your moment of shared joy is “That’s nice”.

When I’ve screwed up, yep, I do that, what I want to do is fall to my knees begging for forgiveness; make you physically aware of the humiliation and the shame, the recriminations and the guilt. Instead I say “I’m sorry”.

When I feel love, disappointment, joy, anger, hope, rage, optimism, faith, disgust, delight, grief, fear, regret, enthusiasm, sadness, elation- I want to have a mouth that speaks the words I have elbowing each other around in the waiting room of my head. Please know that. Please know that my verbal inadequacy is not a reflection of the complexity within. I don’t express it well enough, so if you hear something that sounds good, it really is well-meant. If I disappoint you with my stumbling phrases when you need encouragement and love, I promise you, those words are there, and I mean you to hear them.