I said the wrong thing, or too much, or at the wrong time ….. again. It seems to be my habit. When I hear someone I care about ask those questions, those unanswerable ones, the why questions, I have a desire to fill in the empty space. I want to help. I want to heal.
I think back to the advice my mom gave me. And then I remember, she didn’t give me any. I can’t remember a single conversation, about boys, sex, my dreams, her dreams, her worries, none of it.
Had she used up all her advice on my older sisters? Or did she just not have any words of wisdom. I want to pass it along to my own children, but there is only silence in my own past. I’m only guessing but I think she likely got little words of wisdom from her own mother either.
Does it say anything about my constant questions about people and how they behave – toward me, or about my inability to understand people, well mostly men.
The words sting, the ones where I’m told I need to stop talking like I know everything. But wait, didn’t you ask a question, my opinion, for advice? I don’t know everything, in fact most times I think I know nothing.
Okay, I’ll stop talking. Please don’t ask me for my advice. I have none.
Wish mom were here so I could ask a few questions.
Where do you turn for wisdom?