When I was a young woman, I was a sulker. If you wounded me, I’d disappear behind armour of silence, impenetrable, cold, distant. Sulking is hopeless, I came to realise, for both the wounded and the perpetrator of the wound. A stalemate.

Now I’m a grown woman, I don’t sulk, I speak, loudly. At times, some may say too loudly. But can one ever be too loud, when telling how you feel, what’s in pain under the skin – can you?

In various situations, I’ve seen myself like in a movie, speaking my words in clear and heartfelt prose, delivering my lines with every shred of honesty that I can muster but, but even then in my movie, I see my words land like rubber arrows on my conversation partner, bouncing off without any hope of piercing her psyche, without finding their mark in his understanding. I watch with sinking heart and awful frustration, the cascade of rubber landing on the ground.

So I wonder, what is it that I’ve missed?

What living shows me is that there simply does not exist another human who really gets me, not all of the time. But, but when there’s solid love that moves between us, then those moments of not-understanding, those moments though poignant, don’t break us. Without love though, we naturally drift away.