Be Wary of the Power You Carry

I made a woman cry, and it wasn’t tears of joy. It was a new experience, one I don’t care to repeat. It was a jolt of lightning. Like a defibrillator, it zapped a dormant piece of my brain into attention and my heart into realignment. 

My words, or more specifically the tone in which I said those words is what happened to be the tipping point that prompted the tears. Witnessing her red watery eyes stream a river of sadness, I shook off the shock and did what instincts instructed. I hugged her the way you hug a wounded child, probably too tight and long. And I kept repeating, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” 

I had no idea what I said or how I said it would make her cry. I had no idea the power I carried and how carelessly I misused it. As she opened up about what brought us to this moment, I realized  her interior world is vast and extended far beyond the conversation we were having. The river of tears flowing down her flushed cheeks carried much more than my words, but my contribution to this woman’s day was the tipping point that capsized the boat she had stoically managed to keep upright and afloat. I was the irresponsible passenger who boarded the vessel and brought her emotional weight limit to capacity. 

Although not an experience I care to repeat, it was a privilege to witness the courage of her tears, and it was humbling. How often I’ve held back tears out of fear others will witness this very tangible display of my vulnerability and cast judgment; instead I cry in solitude and continue to carry the weight and burden, alone. My words carry power and weight; they can assist in sinking someone’s boat or assist in helping them set sail. I choose the latter.