On words

I think in words, not pictures.

I never knew this was unusual until a recent social media trend where people discussed it.

It’s called aphantasia and it essentially means that you have no visual experience when thinking of things in the abstract.

I tried to explain what happens to my kids once, when they were stunned to learn that I do not form pictures in my head of the people and events happening in the audio books we listen to.

The best way I can describe it is that the words themselves take up space in my head and formulate my overall understanding and, ultimately, my feelings around a story or experience.

The only time this is not the case is when there is a concrete memory associated with an experience. Even then, I have short little vignettes that I can actually “see” in my mind’s eye, but they are only snapshots, like pictures, not a full video performance.

This might be why words have always been so powerful to me.

They form my innermost thoughts, all the time.

And, I’ve always loved them.

I remember being made fun of in middle school because I was exclaiming in class how beautiful I thought the word melancholy was. It was on our vocabulary list for the week, and I kept turning the word around in my head, saying out loud, getting to “know it” and finding a certain beauty in it despite its meaning. (I think this is like my best friend hating the word moist, but she has one or two words that cause her pause, and I am sure I have hundreds.)

You may be thinking, “Ah, so that neurodiversity thing really does run in families,” and you would be right. But I am not sharing this part of my being with you as an example of the unique brains of my people.

I am telling you because I am beginning to better understand why words have so much weight and why they matter so much to me.

For example, I love poetry. I love how the poet manipulates language, twisting and turning the words into powerful concepts.

I am an avid reader.

I earn a living through writing, marketing through words, and by knowing what words matter most to us when we search for information online.

My love affair with words has always been an essential part of who I am.

My love of words has also cost me dearly.

Through lots and lots of words in therapy, I understand now that the weight I place on verbal and written language is not the same for everyone.

For example, if and when I choose to communicate an emotion or share a story, I have thought very carefully about the words I use. It’s important to me to get it right, to use just the right words to most effectively communicate what it is I am trying to say.

I wrongly assumed for most of my life that the words someone uses with me matter just as much to them and are just as carefully chosen.

I wish I had known sooner that this is not always the case.

Much of the heartache and loss I have experienced over the past five years could have been alleviated (certainly not eliminated but lessened) if I’d realized that if actions don’t line up with the words being said, the words don’t really matter much at all.

Until recently, I operated under the exact opposite illusion – that the words matter most and reflect the deepest part of the person saying them.

My therapist thinks this is one of the reasons I have been so susceptible to gaslighting.

When you think all the words matter more than what you are seeing right in front of you, you eventually begin to question your own sense of self and even sanity.

The sad truth is, it was only when my husband’s words began to contradict each other that I began to understand the reality of my failing marriage.

 “Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality.” -Edgar Allan Poe

We went to dinner for the last time together on a “date” and said a lot of words. Good words. Beautiful, loving words. Words that danced together to define our future as a couple, despite betrayal and abuse.

One week later, the words were the exact opposite.

I don’t want to be a husband. I don’t want to be a father.

I never wanted to be a husband. I never wanted to be a father.

It was the stark clash of all the words, not the actions, that finally gave me clarity. Not the fact that we had been sleeping in separate rooms for months. Not the blatant actions for years showing that others were more attractive and compelling than me. Not the lack of time and energy spent on our home, our finances, holiday celebrations, and especially, the kids.

None of that meant as much as the words, until it all came crashing down in both my mind and heart.

Only then was I able to see what had so plainly been right in front of me all along.

For months, I felt panicked.

Some of it was because of all the fear (if you read On fear, you know).

Some of it was because I felt like I couldn’t trust or believe myself.

I was willing to believe all those words that meant nothing. What else have I been willing to believe and trust that will harm me?

When we finally stop trying to heal our own sick, stressed minds with our sick, stressed minds, when we are truly at the end of our rope and just done, we say the same prayer. We say, “Help.” – Anne Lamott

In my spiral, I lost words for a while.

I couldn’t read. I couldn’t write, at least not well. I couldn’t speak about any of it for very long, or in any real way.

In that timeframe, the only thing that got me through was other people’s words.

My friends telling me over and over again how sorry they were and how bad it all really was. Hearing the stories of other women in similar circumstances in group therapy sessions. My therapist gently prompting me to take care of myself, to let the lack of words be a balm right now, like the peace and quiet my soul needed.

All their words eventually brought me back to the words that I needed to heal.

The words in sad songs.

The words in worship songs.

The words in don’t mess with me, strong woman songs.

The words in 90’s rap songs that reminded me of me, in a time long before all of this.

The words in my kid’s favorite songs, that tell me more about who they are and what they crave most.

And then slowly…

The words in books by women who have suffered and survived.

The words in psalms.

The words in prayers.

Finally came the words I had been avoiding in my own mind for so long.

Divorce.

Single mom.

Alone.

These words opened a floodgate.

I found myself with so many words inside I didn’t know what to do with all of them. Although I have journaled almost daily for more than a decade to make sense of my own thoughts and emotions, suddenly, I found myself writing page after page each morning, without even really thinking about the words. It was like the emotions were exploding out of me, like popping a water balloon.

In the beginning, I wasn’t even journaling in complete sentences. It was just random phrases or even just lists of words that felt important to note.

Cold

Light

Darkness

Quiet

Night sky

Beautiful smile

Comfy bed

You can do this.

God sees you.

Keep going.

Your kids are so cute.

I miss laughing.

I wish I could do anything other than this.

I miss my life.

Then, I started screaming words, at my patient and loving friends and family. They listened to me say the same words over and over again sometimes, sensing that I just needed to get it all out.

He left me, with the kids, alone and without any significant way to care for myself or them.

I had to say the words to believe them.  

As I healed, the words eventually calmed down along with my nervous system.  

I remembered why I loved them so much. It’s why you’re reading this now.

Today, I want you to know that I am learning to embrace this part of myself as the wonderful gift it is. I am also learning to rely on all my senses, not just the words.

You see while I loved all the words and thought they were what would keep me safe, all along my body was screaming at me to listen more deeply, where words don’t apply.

The dull ache of my stomach when something was off.

The way I clenched my jaw for years without even really being aware of it.

The flooding cold when yet another betrayal was discovered.

The inner knowing of the Spirit, deeper than any words, and far more powerful.

^{The moment we get tired in the waiting, God’s Spirit is right alongside helping us along. If we don’t know how or what to pray, it doesn’t matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans. – Romans 8:26 (MSG)}

I truly hope the words I share with you here help you in some way. They are helping me.

Many of you have replied, sharing painful stories of your own, combining your words with mine, weaving together a tapestry of hurt, resilience, and ultimately, strength.

I am so sorry for your losses and your pain.

I am so grateful for your words.

Prayer

If you would like prayer, please feel free to email me at [email protected] and I will happily pray for you this week. 

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