This week, while I waited on my husband to have a root canal, I browsed several of the groups I belong to related to paternity fraud, child support, Father’s rights, etc.  My heart broke when I read an especially touching post by a father who is not allowed any time other than standard visitation with his children.  He heart-wrenchingly wrote of being without them and not even being allowed to talk to them every day.

This got me thinking about pain.  Actually, in my mind I was comparing physical pain to emotional pain.  Weighing the two against each other.

Physical pain:  I have given birth naturally – no pain killers what so ever – twice.  I had my legs seriously damaged in a head-on auto accident – one leg was crushed.  The worst part of that story is that the ER doc was a quack who sent me home telling me there was nothing wrong with my legs, I was just sore he insisted.  Three weeks later I am having emergency surgery after seeing an Orthopaedic Surgeon who clearly sees on the ER x-rays that my tibia was shattered into hundreds of small pieces.  The pain was horrifying.

Emotional pain:  I cried when my son was diagnosed with autism.  He was born a healthy baby, developing normally up to a point.  Then, I watched in horror – taking him to every specialist and getting him every therapy I could arrange – while he slipped away from me into his world.  Years later, I sobbed inconsolably as I sat in the courtroom and watched my baby girl be sentenced to prison, cuffed with her hands behind her back and taken to a bench to await transport to jail.

For me, hands down I will say the emotional pain was worse than the physical.  Is it the same for others?  Surely it is.  Unlike physical wounds, we seem to remember the emotional wounds at a deeper level.  Rarely do I think back to the pain I felt after my accident.  And even when I do, all I can remember is “it hurt.”  A lot.  Yet the smallest thing can jog my memory when it comes to my daughter and my heart breaks all over again.  I remember with sorrow how my son would use his words while he played with his favorite toys.  Seventeen years after the words disappeared, my heart still aches to remember those times.

That whole “sticks and stones” thing is a bunch of crap.  Words and deeds can and do hurt us.  They can hurt us deeply.  Shattering our self-esteem, tearing away at our confidence.  Relationships are built up or torn down by our words and our actions.  Obviously, relationships are ruined when there is physical hurt but isn’t there as much damage done by what we say or do?  I believe those wounds to be just as permanent.

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