Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones—But Words Hurt Too

Yesterday I hurt a friend.

It has been a very stressful and difficult semester thus far. The universe has not yet given me time to breathe and rest. I have been in fight or flight mode every day from when I wake up to when I go to sleep.

Not even three days ago I was debriefing with my best friend about how I’ve been feeling lately. It’s all been very frustrating. The conversation had gotten to my own insecurities about my purpose as a person. I often feel as though people are only friends with me because they know I will support them. This doesn’t sound like an inherently bad thing, but when you go down that rabbit hole, it’s hard to get back out.

I explained how I feel self-conscious about my lone ability to be friends with someone because I listen to them. People need to be listened to and I am that person for a lot of people. But it gets exhausting sometimes, especially when you can’t juggle your own issues on top of it all.

But yesterday I hurt a friend.

One of my roommates has been noticeably distant for about a week. She had been forlorn and seemed to ice me out whenever I expressed concern. She and I have never lived together before or really opened up to each other about personal issues outside of the ones that we have already dealt with. I quickly became frustrated with her silence, her down turned gaze, and her “it’s fine” whenever I asked her if something was going on.

Without knowing that she was able to overhear my conversation, I began to express to a friend that I wished she would just “be a big girl” and let us help her through things. Ignorantly, I was frustrated that she was feeling this way and believed she was not actively doing anything about it. I am not entitled to her issues and she can face them however she wishes to.

At the time, I had no idea that she was listening in. But once the conversation ended, she quickly exited her room and went into the living room. I knew immediately that she had heard me.

I was embarrassed and upset with myself for saying such mean things so flippantly and without care for other people. I desperately tried to compliment her and ask her questions in hopes that it would outweigh what I had said. It was moot. I had said it. She had heard it. I hurt her.

She came to me the next morning and expressed to me how she felt about what I had said. I had already been thinking about it all night, with the thoughts keeping me up until the morning. I was so ashamed and so sorry for saying such hurtful things.

I was glad she had said something to me. She explained how her mental health affects the ways she copes with things. They are quite different from my own. Sometimes she has periods of feeling down after feeling anxious—which was the explanation behind her low spirits over the past week.

I know, no matter how many times I apologize, this is something she won’t forget. It makes me upset to think that this might be what she recalls late at night when she is upset; To understand that something I said about her may be the reason she does not love herself all the way.

For what it’s worth—and it’s worth nothing—I won’t forget it either.

What am I, if I don’t help people? Even so, what am I, if I hurt people?