I was unsuspecting. I entered into a conversation. What started out as an informational monologue on the caller’s part to me turned in to a venomous lecture. I was stunned. I had not been prepared for what slithered up.
I had entered in to this conversation expecting there to be an exchange of concerns, and recent happenings. Instead I found myself sitting and listening to a verbal attack on things and people I hold dear.
I didn’t see it coming.
I felt attacked. Blind sided. Sucker punched. I felt poisoned.
The after effect:
I felt the slimy-ness of the poison. It covered me. Coated me really. I felt filthy. Horrible. One, because it was said. Two, because I said nothing and did nothing to deflect it or stop it. But I tried to scrub it off. Get rid of it. I felt like I had washed it all off. I’ve discovered that toxins are very difficult to just ‘wash off’. There seems to be a residue that is stubborn and evil. It works it’s way over you and every time it finds an opening, a fresh cut or wound, it seeps in. And burns. Burns. Burns.
I feel a little bit more mindful of my own venom.