Sticks and stones…

…may break my bones, but words can never hurt me.

Everyone knows that saying isn’t really true. Words can be far more hurtful than anything else. And I’m no different from anyone else in that respect.

But this isn’t going to be a post about psychological pain – at least, not mainly. Words, and the way they are said, can actually make me feel physical pain as well. (It’s just another wonderful gift from the condition that keeps on giving.)

It happens more when I am stressed or anxious. There seems to come a point when I can’t tell one sense from another. I stop processing what is being said and try to get away from the source of my discomfort. But if the words don’t stop, that’s when the pain starts. Each word feels like a lash from a whip against my back and I retreat into myself entirely.

And it may not be fair, or right, but I find it difficult to interact with the person who has caused the pain once I’ve recovered: I am too scared of more pain being inflicted. So then the self-imposed isolation leads to more pain – psychological this time. But I’ve never worked out which pain hurts less.


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