The Weight of Words: A Reflection on Emotional Responsibility
By Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar
Somewhere along the way, we stopped caring. We forgot that words aren’t just sounds they’re arrows, piercing hearts and leaving scars. In our rush to speak our minds, to defend our opinions at all costs, we’ve traded compassion for bluntness and decency for convenience. It’s as if we believe that feelings are optional, like some unnecessary feature we can just switch off in others because it doesn’t suit us.
Freedom of speech? Oh, we’ve turned it into a shield for cruelty. We tell ourselves, I have the right to say what I feel, no matter how it lands on the next person. But do we ever think about the soul standing on the receiving end of our words? Or do we just hurl them, sharp and heavy, and walk away?
I’ve been taught differently, thank God. My grandfather, Mr. Wallace, was a man who believed in the power of honor. He wasn’t flashy with his wisdom, but his words stuck with you, like seeds planting themselves deep in your heart. He’d often remind me to treat others especially women with the respect I’d want for my mother or grandmother. “Don’t just say it, live it,” he’d tell me. And he made sure I understood that respect isn’t optional. It’s foundational. It’s about seeing people for who they are: divine creations, reflections of the Creator’s love.
And yet, we live in a world where disrespect has become second nature. Just scroll through social media or listen to the tone of public debates. It’s all yelling and tearing each other down. As if being “right” matters more than being kind. My grandfather had a warning for moments like these. “Kateb,” he’d say, “there’s a way that feels right to a man, but its end is destruction.” And he wasn’t just talking about arguments. He meant destruction of the heart, the soul, and the connections that make us human.
I’ve seen it happen. Words spoken in anger or fear can snuff out relationships, kill trust, and destroy opportunities to grow closer to the Creator. And the thing is, we know better. Deep down, we do. We know yelling and cursing doesn’t solve problems; it magnifies them. Taking cheap shots might feel satisfying for a moment, but it leaves the other person battered and bruised emotionally, mentally, and sometimes spiritually.
I’m not saying we should bottle up our feelings or never speak our minds. Far from it. Honesty is essential. But it’s not just what we say; it’s how we say it. Blasting someone out of frustration, fear, or confusion? That’s not honesty that’s recklessness. If you serve your emotions on a platter of rage or sarcasm, don’t be surprised when they’re hard to swallow.
This lesson hit me hardest during a rough season in my life. I was frustrated about work, about relationships, about everything, really. One day, I lashed out at someone I care about, unloading all my pain onto them without a second thought. Their silence afterward said everything. I had wounded them deeply, and for what? To feel momentarily justified? It didn’t feel worth it. It felt like a loss.
It reminded me of something my grandfather always said: “Anger is fire. If you hold onto it, it’ll burn you first. But if you throw it at someone else, it’ll burn them too. Either way, there’s destruction.” He was right. Anger, unchecked, destroys connections, and not just with people. It can pull us away from the Creator, making it harder to hear His voice or feel His presence.
In those moments, I’ve learned to pause. To breathe. To pray for wisdom before speaking. Because words can heal just as much as they can hurt. They can build someone up when they’re feeling small or remind them they’re loved when they feel forgotten. But only if we choose them carefully.
Now, I look around and see the cost of our carelessness. People are hurting. The ones we think are strong? They’re carrying invisible wounds from the things we’ve said or done. The ones we think don’t care? They’re hiding their pain behind masks of indifference. And yet, we keep going, keep hurting, because it’s easier to dismiss than to repair.
But it doesn’t have to be this way. We can do better. It starts with humility, with acknowledging the power our words have. It starts with choosing to listen instead of lashing out, to comfort instead of criticize. Yes, it takes effort, and yes, it requires us to put our egos aside. But isn’t that the point? Isn’t life about more than winning arguments or proving we’re right?
There’s a line in scripture that always humbles me: “What does it profit a man to gain the whole world and lose his soul?” My grandfather lived by that question, and now I do too. Because every time we choose cruelty or indifference, we lose a piece of our souls. We lose the connection that ties us to the Creator and to each other.
So here’s what I’ve learned: Speak, but do it with care. Express yourself, but do it with grace. And when you feel that anger bubbling up, remember this: silence can be an act of love. Take a moment to breathe, to think, to pray. Because the words you choose will shape the world around you for better or worse. And at the end of the day, isn’t it worth choosing better?
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