Some things I do in life are very loud.  The things I do loudly are the happy things.  Things like laughing, and loving, and playing outside.  Those sounds … those happy things … are for sharing.

I like to be quiet about the other things.  My negative or hurtful feelings are nearly silent.  They are the small rustle of a mouse moving across the floor without even a squeak.  Angry noises of voices raised… the earthquakes of heavy bull feet stomping angrily through the china shop… the eggshells those things place my own feet on… these things are not good for me.

My feelings may make less noise than yours.  My footsteps may not make the ground shake with anger, and may not place other peoples’ feet on eggshells.  

And my wounds need tending too, and I have been quietly tending them for awhile.