Dope…

Language. Language is so important. To be understood or fully understand, language is everything.

When I’ve traveled to places that speak a different language than I do such as Mexico or my daughters rooms…the language barrier is real.

In Mexico when I order eggs “over hard”, there is just nothing I can do to communicate that I don’t want the yoke runny. I’ve tried everything. Body language, verbal, even my attempt at spanish…nothing worked. The language barrier was just too great and tragedy ensued. Runny yokes. So disgusting. For those of you who like runny yokes and dipping bread in it…let me use a language that is clear. Stop it!

The word “dope” is a serious language issue. My daughter used it the other day. I laughed. When I was younger the word dope was used to talk about someone goofy. They were a dope. Today if someone says “that’s dope”, and says it in a high school, some teacher may look twice. Especially in Colorado. Turns out someone may not be pointing out the contents of a zip loc bag, they may be saying something is really cool.

Language is the key to understanding.

There are different kinds of language. Verbal, physical, emotional. Tell me you’re sad with a smile on your face and the verbal and physical don’t match. I would get confused. Just today someone said it when I had to stop and sit down, you don’t “look” like you’re in pain.

I’ve learned my language doesn’t communicate well in regards to my chest pain. Communication requires message sent, message received. No matter what I “say” the language just doesn’t cut it. For as long as I can remember I’ve sought understanding. That’s been a big part of the trauma.

What “language” would communicate that? I don’t know. But I’ve learned the answer to the question not asked and that is…me. Who is the most important person to understand my chest pain? Me.

I’ve spent most of my life being angry at my own chest pain. Frustrated by it. Hiding it. Apologizing for it. I haven’t understood my own situation. That’s just…me being a dope.