Untold stories


Everything has a story, one that’s visible in plain sight, one that’s hidden below the words, under the clear ground.

It’s the reason why when we talk to people we omit our emotions, we don’t talk about them out loud, we don’t show them. We hide them because it’s easy, because we are not used to it.

Those emotions have some luggage with them. They carry many meanings. Many untold stories that are worth to be told.

We were sitting at a table and a friend speaks to her wife about how they could leave their child to his grandma so they could do a small 3 days trip.

She said no and started discussing about it like if she didn’t want to leave her child.
It made sense, but there was another story.
There was a story of a mother that was worried, and she thought that they could try to see how the baby would react, and if it did go well they’d go to the trip, otherwise they’d stay at home.

That story also had another untold story, the story of her feeling “bad”, worried about her child, unsure about her role of mother and her skills, a story she didn’t see into the mirror of her husband because he was calm and relaxed. This difference in the reaction made her think that she was wrong and he was treating her like a stupid teenager, which she was not.

She didn’t told him this story. It took a while to get to that, but it’s clear at first sight that we hide information to be less vulnerable.
The downside is that we create a paradox: To be less vulnerable, we are more open to attacks and fights.


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