The Power of the Pause

I don’t usually put my foot in my mouth. 

Normally I swallow both feet whole. Then choke on my embarrassment. Later, I regurgitate the scene over and over again, longing for a vow of silence. This lasts until I open my mouth again.

Some people tread lightly with their words. I cannonball. My verbal self-control is limited. Though, I do deserve some credit for all the things I don’t say out loud.

This is why writing is a sanctuary. The delete key is within easy grasp, so I can undo the endless stream of word vomit. With writing, I’m forced to pause and think before the words escape. 

How I wish I could go back and rewrite a conversation I had at my husband’s work dinner. One of his colleagues flaunted a shiny new engagement ring. I didn’t know her well, but wanted to make conversation.

“Congratulations!” I gushed. 

“Thank you,” she said, holding out her ring and allowing the facets to catch light.

“How did he propose?” I asked.

“He proposed on Thanksgiving Day.”

“Oh nice. Did he hide the ring inside the turkey cavity?”

Her polite smile stiffened. “No. As a vegan, I would not have appreciated that.”

Nervous laughter. “Yeah, that would have killed the mood.” I took a swig of my drink. “Well, congrats again and best wishes on the wedding.”

I made my escape, but replayed the conversation on a tortuous loop.

Of course, I’d been told she was vegan. But it slipped my mind, just as easily as you can slip a diamond into a turkey carcass. There was no Ctrl-Alt-Deleting my way out of that situation. 

Keyboards provide moments of reflection, pauses before publication. Writing gives me a chance to check and double check if I’ve said what I really want to say. 

Though not even writing is foolproof against idiocy.

To this day, I can be driving down the road when an intrusive thought commandeers my brain and I slam the palm of my hand against my face and inwardly curse myself.

“Are you okay, Mom?” the kids ask.

“Oh yeah, totally fine,” I say, clutching the steering wheel while my body goes into full-body cringe mode. These are the moments I’m remembering the accidental reply-all e-mail (okay . . . e-mails) I’ve sent, or the text messages that went to the wrong person. Once your words enter the ether, they disappear into the black hole of non-retrieval. Even an ill-worded Facebook post can forever be used against you thanks to screen shots.

So why write? Because it gives me a fighting chance. A chance to gather my thoughts before they come spilling out, to shape my words before they take on a life of their own. Writing lets me pause, rethink, and—on a really good day—save myself from another forehead-smacking moment. It may not stop me from the occasional verbal misstep, but at least on the page, I get to decide which words are worth keeping and which ones are better left unsaid.

Still, no matter how much I refine my words on paper, I can’t edit real life. There will always be moments where I say the wrong thing, moments where I wish I could hit "undo" on my own mouth. But maybe that’s just part of being human.

So I’ll keep writing. I’ll keep pausing. And I’ll keep hoping that the next time I open my mouth, my foot won’t already be halfway in.