Content warning: medical-related trauma

I need to write this post, because I caught myself trying to avoid it.

Inkhaven cohort 2 seems to be heavily invested in posting about their trauma. This is something I admire; it shows vulnerability and trust, and it’s probably cathartic or at least can help share a lesson. I wanted to get in on this, and when I picked my “going back” theme for the week I knew exactly the lesson I needed to share. Now I just have to actually follow through.

So here is my story about the worst feeling, and when a nurse helped me escape from it, perhaps by accident.

—

My specific trauma is personal and hasn’t stopped hurting me. It is not the main point of the story, so I will keep the description brief and vague. Maybe someday I will feel comfortable sharing it with the world, or maybe I won’t. Either way, please don’t tell me your guesses, even if you know me well.

Here’s what I’ll say: I had a medical procedure. I was not in physical pain. Instead, I felt a combination of horror and revulsion at my body that was the most excruciating torture my brain has ever created.

And as I left in tears, I got lost. Physically lost, that is, even though the space was quite small. A nurse nudged me toward the exit and told me the phrase I needed to hear most.

“You don’t have to go back there.”

I am not sure if she meant it because I was walking the wrong direction, or because I was sobbing. Perhaps both. But she showed me the way out.

—

This story is short and simple on its face. I was lost and in pain and a nurse helped me out of at least one of those situations. There’s a lesson here, though: you don’t know what words will change someone’s life.

I’m a writer. Words are my job. As a writer, I can guess what someone will feel when they read or hear my words. I can aim for a feeling in their mind. But I don’t know what kind of mind those words will reach, or what other thoughts are in there, or even whether they will hear and understand my words as I created them, much less how I meant them.

Sometimes this means that the piece you poured your heart and soul into is barely seen, while the one you rattled off quickly goes viral. Sometimes it just means you have to clarify yourself to your conversation partner, or to yourself.

But every once in a while, it means that your words are going to change someone’s life. Maybe this is more common if you work as a nurse, where you regularly see people having minor or major crises, or if your words reach more people, just from the effect of sheer numbers.

I don’t think you need to treat every sentence like it’s the most profound one you will ever say, because it isn’t. But I do think you should treat your words – and everyone who might receive those words – with the respect they deserve.

Coming Soon: Going back: Rites