Tag Archives: damage

De-escalate

De-escalate: (v) to decrease in intensity, magnitude, etc.

It is something I’ve always done.

I never gave it much thought.

To me it just made sense.

For you see, taking the first reaction of a human being who has been startled or hurt is not only unfair—it is not representative of who they are.

I do believe there is a childish portion in each one of us that wants to be offended so we can receive sympathy from those around us about being slighted.

But if you have just run into someone’s car and you’re informing them of that fact, and you expect them to give you a calm, measured response, you just might be evil.

Human beings should be given a chance to de-escalate from their initial response.

I don’t care what it is.

I don’t care if you think they should be more mature.

None of us are.

If we have a moment and realize how poorly we have handled our initial reaction, we often will mellow, apologize and gather our notions in a more thoughtful way.

But we need that time.

We need that mercy.

We need to understand that the first words that come out of somebody’s mouth when he or she feels offended are not conciliatory nor particularly kind.

They are bitter.

They are scolding words looking to heap damage.

It won’t hurt us to give our fellow human beings a chance to get over that initial pain—de-escalate and find a better reaction.

It does require that we have the maturity to know:

First reactions don’t count.

Each one of us deserves an opportunity to reflect and do better.

 

Damage

Damage: (n) injury or harm that reduces value or usefulness

Hello, stranger.

Pardon me, I don’t know your name.

I’m not really trying to introduce myself. More or less, I just want you to understand my position.

I’m not sure if I would be gregarious even if the option were available to me. Since you are unfamiliar to my world, I feel compelled to go slowly—perhaps stop.

It’s nothing personal.

I see you’re a little put off and perhaps don’t understand my misgivings, but that’s because you haven’t lived in my world or my time, surrounded by a topsy-turvy environment, nurturing terror.

There are blessings.

But as people, both religious and secular, will concur, the trials and difficulties greatly outweigh the payoffs.

It may seem like a negative way of looking at one’s lifespan, but still, all in all, it is safer to embrace caution and to ignore any temptation to take a risk by pursuing new relationships, new friends, ethnicities or environments.

Understand?

Haven’t you been hurt?

Healed of the wound, the scar and internal blistering is still sensitive.

Is it not nature’s way—to give us a constant reminder of our foolishness, our sins and our naivete by leaving behind bruises and discoloration?

Perhaps you’re a fine person.

Let me rephrase that. I don’t know you’re a fine person. That’s why I must treat you as if you’re not. I simply can’t afford to take on any new conflicts.

I have damage.

It has been addressed, discussed and I suppose might seem covered by the grace of the Divine. But still, it quietly lies within me, warning me of the many troubles of those who wander too far from reclusion.

Perhaps there will be a day when you will be better known to me or my damage will once and for all be contained.

Perhaps not.

Here is what I see:

After meeting thousands of people, we eliminate all the comers to two or three we claim to hold dear, but still maintain our intimacy at arm’s length.

Cosigner

Cosigner: (n) a joint signer of a promissory note.

The definition of greatness, and perhaps even the best description of faith, is possessing a vision greater than your substance.

Very few of us arrive on Earth with enough substance to match our vision.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

I found this to be true in my early years of adulthood. I knew what I wanted to do. I wasn’t sure how to do it, so I was very susceptible to the lame-brain plans of others—or even of my own making—which might be shortcuts for achieving my goals.

All of these ideas that were hatched in front of me and inside me always entailed the need for money. It was the idea that money needed to come before I could do the work.

Whenever someone suggested that I could do the work without needing money, I rejected it because it extended my waiting period and therefore discouraged my faithfulness.

I cannot tell you how many times I went to family, friends or even strangers, asking them to cosign on a loan, a car, a motor home, or even sound equipment, because I was convinced that my need for the substance was inhibiting my faith.

Most of the time, very wise people said, “Absolutely not.”

I did not like them. I thought they were selfish, unfeeling, perhaps anti-Christ.

On three occasions, when people gave into my “pitch” and signed on a piece of paper for money or goods on my behalf, they were left holding the bag—which I believe contained turds.

Later on in my life, when I got substance, I came back and reimbursed these people. But at the time, I am sure they felt very used—and their faith was damaged because I stole their substance.

Family and friends come to me sometimes, asking me to cosign a loan or a contract. I just pull out my wallet, peer into it, and figure out which President, with his face on the paper money, I can impeach from my ownership and give to them. If I can’t afford to give it, I don’t offer it.

Cosigning always seems like a great idea—sometimes even to two people. But if you really believe that substance is needed more than faith, your lack of faith will make it impossible to please either God or Earth.


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Bludgeon

Bludgeon: (v) to beat someone repeatedly with a heavy object.

Dictionary B

All she said to me was, “I need help.”

I think it was probably the tone of her voice which let me know that my young friend on the phone was in trouble.

She had married a man who certainly had a reputation for being psychologically imbalanced. But she insisted she loved him, and truthfully, he seemed to thrive in their relationship, losing some of his waywardness.

But then he got used to her.

She wasn’t magical anymore.

She was available–maybe too available.

So since it was impossible for him to beat on a mirror, he started beating on her.

Little infractions at first (if there is such a thing).

But I could tell by listening to her on the phone that she was in deep trouble and I needed to get over to her.

My car wasn’t fast enough. By the time I arrived, he had bludgeoned her, making her face appear to be twice its normal size. Blue, black, purple and strains of red began to surface with the swelling.

As I tried to calm her down, I watched the damage grow right before my eyes. She was so wounded.

I had never seen it up close and personal, just portrayed on TV with make-up and tricks. But this was real.

I felt pain just looking at her face.

It looked as if she would never be able to totally reconstruct her features again. As I comforted her and we waited for the arrival of family and a police officer, I told myself to register the image of her countenance in my mind for all time.

For you see, sometimes violence has a slight sniff of propriety.

Maybe we think it’s a good way to get even. But any time you lay your hand against another traveler, the human body displays the vulgarity of your efforts with the horrific image of swollen pain.

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