How do you handle it when someone hurts you?

We have all been there. An offhand remark that stings, a comment said about us behind our backs, or a biting jab right to our face. I am almost always caught off-guard. I feel shocked at first, but the shock quickly turns to pain. I’ll admit, my first instinct is to say something hurtful right back, and I want it to sting that person more than they have hurt me.

But as an adult, a person who calls herself a Christian, and a woman who strives daily toward positivity, I know that’s not going to make me feel better.

So, what to do? I have assembled a list (I love lists!) of suggestions for what to do when you have been hurt by someone. I am no expert, just a woman who loves to have a plan. I hope you find it helpful. Here we go:

Take time: I cannot address an issue in which my feelings are hurt right away. I have done it and still do it, but it’s not the right way for me to handle it. I know that if I take some time to think things through and calm down, I can address with issue with a much clearer head and actually think logically instead of emotionally. I think I need at least one good night’s sleep before I can come up with a plan about the hurt feelings I am harboring.

Consider their life and issues: I can freely admit that there have been times in my life when I have felt so down or so hurt by my circumstances, that I hurt someone else. After my sister died, I remember YELLING at my husband, full of anger, because he asked about the nachos I was making for dinner. I was not in a good place mentally or emotionally. That’s not an excuse for my behavior, but it is an explanation. Maybe the person who hurt you is dealing with things you don’t even know about. Maybe they are in a difficult place emotionally, mentally, or even physically, that could explain their behavior. Allow yourself to think about what could be happening in their world. It just might help you understand and offer forgiveness.

Think through whether letting it go is the right course of action: There will be times when we absolutely must have a conversation with a person who hurt us, in order to repair the relationship. There are other times when it makes a lot more sense to let it go. Letting it go is not an easy road, but some circumstances really call for it. Make sure you have determined which type of situation you are in. You might know that you will get nowhere by explaining that you are hurt to this particular person. Give yourself permission to work through your feelings on your own and move on. Some people in our lives should not be allowed to have that much control over our emotions.

Remind yourself of your worth: You might feel attacked by someone else and then let that feeling seep into your self-esteem. You might let someone else’s opinions and words tell you stories to yourself that you are not good enough. You must fight back against this. Practice playing the part of a person who really DOES NOT CARE what other people think, and remind yourself of your worth. You deserve to be you: your full, authentic self.

Work on becoming “Bulletproof”: One thing I have been working on a lot lately is building up my own self-worth to the point where the words and opinions of others cannot affect me. I think of this as being “Bulletproof”. I imagine others’ opinions being hurled at me, but I construct a barrier around my body and mind that makes their words, and opinions bounce right off and fall to the floor. This is a simple, yet challenging task! However, I have found that my internal dialogue can be changed. When I find myself thinking, “That person doesn’t like me, I really am terrible.” I have begun teaching myself to quickly reframe the thought to, “That person doesn’t like me, but I know I’m awesome so it’s all good.” Boom, their dislike of me bounces off and falls, powerless, to the ground.

Pray, meditate, reflect:

Spend some quiet moments by yourself to process through the hurt. Some prayer, meditation, and reflection can be so helpful.

The Bible tells us the following about when someone hurts you:

“But I say to you who hear, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. Whoever hits you on the cheek, offer him the other also; and whoever takes away your coat, do not withhold your shirt from him either. Give to everyone who asks of you, and whoever takes away what is yours, do not demand it back. Treat others the same way you want them to treat you. If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. If you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. If you lend to those from whom you expect to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners in order to receive back the same amount. But love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return; and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High; for He Himself is kind to ungrateful and evil men. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.” (Luke 6:27-36)

I like to read through that passage to be reminded of the type of person I’m aspiring to be. Do I often achieve this level of love and peace? Nooooo! But I am always striving to be better and to extend mercy, because there will always come a time when I, myself, am in need of mercy as well.

I also own a book called, Positivity, written by Barbara L. Fredrickson, PH.D. (If you have never read this book, I highly recommend it!) She is a Psychology professor who has done research on positivity for more than 20 years. In her book she explains,

“…even while unseen forces pull you down, you can choose a different course. You can put the brakes on negativity’s downward spiral and rebound. The key is to uncover your inner wellspring of heartfelt positivity.”

I love the imagery of a “Wellspring of heartfelt positivity,” as if there is a beautiful, sparkling pool of positivity and happiness that is housed within me, and all I need to do is remember it’s there, and tap into it.

May you remember your wellspring, heal your own hurt feelings from within, and remember your worth today, and every day! Peace!

The Tonsillectomy

After six visits to the doctor in three months because of recurrent throat infections, Dr. O’Neil stared into my throat, wooden tongue depressor depressed, and announced to my mom, “That’s it. She needs her tonsils out.”

I sat on the crinkly-white-paper covered table and tried to hide my excitement. I knew this was the type of thing that was serious, and I wasn’t supposed to feel giddiness bubbling up inside me. I could see on the doctor’s face, and in my mom’s furrowed brow, that this was GROWN UP TALK. They threw around impressive, elegant words like, “anesthesia,” “hospital,” and, my personal favorite, “surgery”.

I knew exactly what it meant to get my tonsils out. I had seen my fair share of 70’s and 80’s television shows. This meant I would spend a week in bed, ringing a bell to make everyone in my family jump to satisfy my every whim. I would dine on nothing but the best ice creams, popsicles, and Jellos the world had to offer. No vegetables! No sandwiches! Just cold junk food for a week.

But the junk food wasn’t even the best part. The pinnacle of excitement was the delicious prospect of NO SCHOOL! No school for a week! My friends would be so jealous! Maybe my whole class would write me cards and letters.

I could picture the notes saying things like,

“Dear Andie, we all miss you so much. I have always liked you, but never told you before because I never knew you would end up having to get a part of your body removed.”

After all, I would be recovering from SURGERY. And when I returned to school, they would form a big circle around me and ask how I was feeling, and what it was like to go through SURGERY. Even the kids who never talked to me would have to come see for themselves what a girl who had SURGERY was going to say about it. It would be better than bringing cupcakes to class on my birthday. Everyone brought cupcakes to class, but nobody had brought in stories of the marvels of modern medicine, as told by someone who had been there.

I did a great job of pretending to be concerned about this serious matter around my mom, but I couldn’t wait to get to school to tell everyone.

When the bell rang for morning recess, I ran to the meeting spot where Julie, who was my best friend, would meet me. The words tumbled off my lips the second I saw her.

“Guess-what-I’m-getting-surgery-and-I-have-to-go-to-the-hospital-next-week-and-I’m-getting-surgery!”

“What kind of surgery are you getting?”

This was a very smart question that I knew she would ask. She knew all about medical stuff. Her dad was a pharmacist.

“I’m getting my tonsils out!” I happily proclaimed, while opening my mouth wide, lest she want to take a good look at my soon-to-be history, tonsils.

“Oh. Okay. Well, that’s not good,” She said.

Not good? Of course it was good! She must have been jealous.

“Do you even know what they have to do to you to get the tonsils out?” She asked, eyes wide.

I hadn’t thought of that for one second.

“No. What?” I was feeling slightly less giddy.

“First, they lay you on your stomach. Then they cut open the back of your neck. Then they reach in and scoop out your tonsils, like how you scoop the guts out of a pumpkin!”

Oh crap.

I spent the next week obsessing about having the back of my neck cut open. I would run my hand under my hair, against my neck, imagining how it would feel to have a big open wound there. I no longer cared about Jello, or notes from my classmates. I just wanted to LIVE.

On the day of the surgery, I had a pit in my stomach. I sat stoically, clad in my loosely tied hospital gown, stuffed bear tight in a hug. My dad sat next to me to say goodbye before they wheeled me to the operating room. I offered to lie on the gurney face down. They told me it would be fine to be on my back. I nodded. They would roll me over after I fell asleep. I gripped the sides of the gurney tightly. This was going to be hell.

I woke up to my dad calling my name and telling me it was over. I felt groggy, but remembered why I was there. I slowly lifted my hand to the back of my neck. It felt…normal.

“You’re going to have a sore throat for a week or so,” the nurse was saying. “Do you have any questions?”

“There isn’t a cut on my neck? Why?” I croaked.

“No, there wouldn’t be a cut on your neck, the doctor removed your tonsils. You know, through your mouth. Why did you think there would be a cut on your neck?”

“Ohhhhhhhhh,” I sighed. “No reason.”

I smiled, snuggled my stuffed bear tight, and asked, “Can I have a popsicle now?”

What is it about, though?

The First Blog Post

I am not usually a person who announces what I’m going to do before I do it. I tend to just quietly do a thing. But for this, my Ziggityblog, I decided to start telling people about it before I had decided what it would be about. I announced to my husband and children, “I’m going to start a blog!” (By the way, when I told them the name I had chosen for it, they all said the same thing, “That definitely sounds like you.” I still am not sure if that was meant as a compliment or not, but I digress). I also announced on Facebook and Instagram, “I’m going to start a blog!”

I immediately started receiving some questions. Well, actually it was one question asked by several different people, “What is it going to be about?”

That’s a great question. We should delve into that. This morning while I took my shower I pondered what it would be about. Then I drove my youngest son to school while thinking, “What will it be about?”. I stopped by Starbucks (ordered myself a grande dark roast, black) while urging myself to decide WHAT IT WILL BE ABOUT.

Um. I don’t know, friends. I kind of want to start writing and then maybe, if you happen to read what I write and think to yourself, “I know what this is about!” you could send me a message or leave me a comment and tell me what YOU think it’s about? Because I really don’t know what it’s going to be about.

When I began the set up process of this blog, I was prompted to categorize it. Since I have no idea how to categorize a blog with no specific subject matter, I chose, “Blogging”. It now lists my blog as a blog about blogging. However, I assure you, this blog will not be about blogging (or will it? As we have already established, I don’t know).

I can’t tell you what to expect here, but I will tell you this: I love to write. I love to tell stories about when I was a little kid with two crazy older sisters. I love recalling the fun I had when I left home and went to college. I delight in sharing stories about meeting my husband, getting married, and raising four children. I also write to process my feelings. I lost my oldest sister in 2013, and writing has helped me with my grief. I write when I’m frustrated with life, and society, and when I feel like I have some tidbit of important wisdom to share with the world.

What will it be about? I just want to start writing and figure that out as I go.