Last night, there was a conversation among friends that was meant to be lighthearted and funny. The kind that catches you off guard and makes people laugh. They were playing a game called "Hear Me Out Cake," where you put characters you find oddly attractive (even cartoon ones) on a cake and jokingly say, “But hear me out…” It is not really my kind of humor, especially since I don’t feel that way about cartoon characters, but I listened and stayed present.
Then something unexpected happened. My Master, Damon, mentioned Quasimodo. He said he found the character endearing because he was emotionally wounded, misunderstood, and someone who loved deeply, even the unlovable. And then, he added, “Why do you think I have the partners I have?”
In that moment, my heart sank.
Those words cut in a way I don’t think he intended, but the impact was still real. I know I have my challenges, like anyone. I live with a disability, I navigate mental health with strength and resilience. But I am not broken. I am not a cause to be pitied. I am not someone’s burden or charity project. I am a whole person with depth, beauty, fire, softness, and so much love to give.
His comment led to a small argument, not a blowout, but charged with emotion. There was a lot of backtracking as he tried to explain himself and clarify what he meant. And I do believe he didn’t intend to cause harm.
But the truth is, intention doesn’t erase impact.
It still hurts. I feel heartbroken. I feel raw. And while I love Damon deeply, while I long to serve him with passion and devotion, right now I need space. Because healing sometimes means honoring the pain without rushing to fix it.
This experience has reminded me just how important our words are. How vital it is to slow down, to reflect, and to speak with intention, especially with those we love. I’ve made my own share of mistakes in this area, too. I’m not perfect. I know what it feels like to say the wrong thing and regret it deeply.
Do I know Damon loves me? Yes, I do.
Do I believe he loves me because I’m “damaged”? No, I don’t.
Right now I’m hurting. But I know I’ll heal. This pain won’t last forever. I will move forward. And in doing so, I’ll establish a new boundary, one that honors my worth and my wholeness.
I am not my diagnosis. I am not my struggle.
I am not broken. I am not less.
I am deeply loved, not for what I can offer, or because someone pities me, but simply because
I am. I have chosen family who see me, cherish me, and hold space for all of who I am.
So, to the world. Be mindful. You don’t need to censor your humor or your heart. But speak with care. Speak with presence. Because sometimes, the words we toss out casually can land in someone’s heart like a stone. And love, real love, asks us to be conscious of that.