I Realized I Could Not See- A Soul Reflection on Becoming Aware of the Impact of my Words

A Difficult Realization

Something happened recently that caused me to see myself in a way I had not seen myself before. It was not an easy realization- it was terribly painful. In fact, part of what has made it so painful is the awareness that I should have understood it a long, long time ago.

I have always considered myself to be thoughtful...I guess. I have assumed that I understand the weight of words, the importance of trust, and the responsibility we carry when someone shares something vulnerable with us. Especially when someone shares something that's not only vulnerable, but even personal. I have spent much of my life encouraging others to become more conscious, more honest, and more compassionate. And yet, I am somehow grappling with the fact that, in spite of knowing these things intellectually, even emotionally, I made a mistake. I'm pretty sure I unconsciously, perhaps even unknowingly, shared a very vulnerable trust that was given to me. I'm discovering there are parts of me that can still go unconscious. There are moments when emotion rises faster than wisdom. Hurt, loneliness, fear, disappointment, ego, or the need to be understood can take control of a conversation, my conversations...internally and externally. In those moments, I may believe I am simply speaking honestly, when in reality I may be reacting from a wound - old or new, healing or fresh.

It's difficult for me to admit. It's terribly uncomfortable to recognize that I may have said something I should not have said, shared something that was not mine to share, or spoken without fully considering what my words might set in motion.

The Distance Between Intention and Impact

My first instinct is to return to my intention. I did not mean to cause harm. I'm not sure I ever do... perhaps never. I was not trying to betray anyone. I did not understand what I was doing in the moment. All of that may be true. But I am learning, perhaps more deeply than I ever have before, that intention and then...impact are not the same thing. My intention belongs to me. The impact belongs to the person who experienced it. For a long time, I think I believed that explaining my intentions would somehow soften the consequences. I am now seeing that an explanation can sometimes become a way of protecting myself from fully witnessing another person’s pain. Especially when the person I hurt is someone I deeply love, deeply need, and value in ways I haven't been able to my entire life. Someone whom I've distantly longed for since I was very young.

There is a particular kind of humility required to remain still when someone tells me that I hurt them. It means resisting the urge to explain, resisting the need, the life-long NEED to prove that I am a good person, and then somehow, which has almost always been impossible, resisting the impulse to make my remorse the center of the conversation.

Instead, I've learned, and I am still learning to say: I did not intend this, but I can see that it happened. I can see that my words carried a weight I did not recognize. I can see that something in me was not as conscious as I believed it was. This realization has shaken me. It has also opened something in me. Intentionally or unintentionally, I was wrong.

Accountability Without Shame

I'm learning again that accepting accountability is not the same as shame. Shame tells me that I am irredeemably flawed. Accountability asks me to become honest about what happened and to let that honesty change me. - I feel like I should say it again... let that honesty change me. Shame makes me want to hide. Accountability asks me to stay present.

It asks me to apologize without conditions, to repair what I can, and to respect the boundaries, distance, or time another person may need. It also asks me to accept that I cannot control whether I am forgiven or whether a relationship returns to what it once was.

That may be the most difficult part. I love the relationships I've had - I can and I'm willing to take responsibility, but I cannot control the outcome. I can offer sincerity, but I cannot demand reconciliation. I can learn from what happened, but I cannot rewrite the moment before I became aware. What I can do is refuse to waste the lesson. I can become more careful with the stories entrusted to me. I can pause when I feel emotionally activated. I can ask myself whether I am speaking from wisdom or from a wound. I can listen before I defend....I can listen before I defend....I can listen before I defend!!!

The Grace of Seeing Clearly

There is grief in seeing ourselves clearly, if the Buddha has taught us anything- it's certainly that..., but there is also grace. I do not want to condemn myself too harshly, as I've often done for being human. I also do not want to use my humanity as an excuse for remaining unconscious. I want my regret to become wisdom. I want this experience to make me gentler, more discerning, more trustworthy, and more aware.

Perhaps healing is not the moment when I finally become perfect. Healing may just be the moment when I stop pretending there. That I'm trying to be more "honest" with myself...than I ever have been. It may be the moment I become willing to enter those rooms, turn on the light, and look honestly at what has been living there.

I am seeing something now, tonight, that I wish I had understood sooner: being a good person does not mean I will never cause pain. But when I discover I have caused pain, I am willing to express sorrow and then face it without turning away. And perhaps becoming conscious is not something that happens once. It's turning out to be a lifelong practice of waking up, again and again, to the parts of myself I just had no ability, no awareness, no introspection to see before.