The Mess I Made in a Moment Meant to Be Quiet

There’s this thing I do, and I swear I never mean to…... I tell people more than I should. Not strangers on the internet (ironically, I keep more secrets here), but colleagues. The people I’m supposed to just talk work with, exchange polite “How’s your weekend?” answers, and then move on.

But sometimes, when the conversation lingers a second too long, I feel this strange pull to fill the silence. And instead of reaching for something safe like the weather or the latest company memo, I reach for… my life. My real life. And I don’t just hand over the basics. No. I unwrap pieces of myself that were never meant for the break room.

I don’t notice it while it’s happening. At the moment, it feels harmless. Human, even. But later, maybe that night, maybe the next morning, it hits me. I think about what I said, about how much of myself I placed in their hands, and I wish I could take it back. Not because they did anything wrong. They didn’t. But because I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve left my diary open on the office desk, pages fluttering for anyone to read.

It’s not the first time, either. It’s almost a cycle now. I overshare. I regret it. I promise myself I’ll be more guarded next time. And then, without meaning to, I do it again. It’s a habit I’ve been meaning to break - the one where I trade my peace for connection I’m not even sure I wanted in the first place.

I guess that’s the thing about misses and messes. Some of them aren’t huge disasters; they’re small spills of ourselves in places where we wish we’d stayed dry. No permanent harm done, but the aftertaste is still there.

So here I am, writing this down not because I’ve figured out the perfect fix but because I want to remember that not everything that’s true needs to be told. Some moments are meant to be quiet, even if my instinct is to fill them. Especially then.

Life after the misses and messes isn’t about never making them again. It’s about noticing when we do… and learning, slowly, how to keep the sacred parts sacred.

Here is my own little reminder for when the quiet comes again.

A Quiet Note to Myself (for Next Time)

Not every silence needs saving.
Not every pause needs filling.

I can keep some pages of my story untouched—still mine.

Holding back isn’t dishonesty; it’s care.
My worth isn’t measured by what I share,
and my peace isn’t the price for connection.

Next time, I’ll let the quiet be quiet.
Some truths can stay with me.
And maybe that’s how I keep myself whole.

❁ ❁ ❁

And maybe you’ve been there too - catching yourself filling a pause just so it doesn’t feel heavy. When was the last time you let the quiet stay, just as it was?  - MESSY E.

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