Words Matter: When People Forget That Differences Aren’t Defects

Words matter.

I don’t always use the best words. I don’t always say the right things. 

What matters just as much as the words, is our awareness. 

The awareness of impact, potential for harm, & our capacity to grow because we know we might mistake our words.

We don’t have to be perfect, but I feel we have to understand. & within that, be ready to pause before we speak. . . & if that doesn’t always happen, then the ability to say “I’m sorry,” with meaningfulness.

I’m writing this because sometimes it’s therapeutic just to get something out.

When Your Needs Become Inconveniences

I’ve recently spent time with people who operate from a place without much consideration for anyone else’s reality. My needs felt like disruptions to plans, unideal preferences, & comfort, because of the lack of understanding.

I spent so much time in my head wondering if I was “being picky,” “being unreasonable,” “making it about me.”

I tried my best to be open. But it felt impossible to reconcile: Were my differences a problem? Or were they valid needs?

That confusion, that’s the damage.

When you’re made to question whether your reality even counts. That’s mentally exhausting in its own quiet way.

The Exhaustion of Self-Advocacy

Advocating for my differences can be tiring. It can be really hard, no matter how extroverted I am, because a lot of myself is new to me: being open about cloudy days, dealing with auto immune struggles, navigating how to follow the rules everyone else seems to play by. 

I feel responsible for making myself understood. Like I’m translating, explaining, clarifying, preemptively defending.

There’s this constant loop in my head: “No, this is real. This affects me. I’m not being difficult.” & I wonder—wouldn’t it be easier if people stretched their perspectives before I had to shrink myself to fit theirs?

The Restaurant Problem

Because I’m a Storyteller, Here’s a Tale That Illustrates My Inner Battle:

Recently, I feel awful going out to eat with people.

It’s so hard to describe my newly developing autoimmune issues in a way that makes sense to others. I don’t do gluten in certain foods, but I do gluten in others. Don’t just hand me a gluten-free menu—my FODMAP issues can’t handle the alternative gluten-free foods like potatoes or corn. Oh, & I also don’t do cream or butter. & I get nervous when ingredients aren’t listed.

I can see the confusion on people’s faces as I explain. Or worse, the eye rolling & sighs. The polite nod that means it’s coming off as too much. So I start pre-apologizing. Or I don’t say anything at all & just… fidget, fear, & spike my cortisol stressing my gut because my mind is a mess.

I like going out, but I lean more into cooking at home & hosting because I’m able to pause in a safe way.

I get super anxious when people just announce, “Let’s eat here.” Because I’ve opened up about my struggles. I’ve been met with kindness from many, but I’ve also been met with annoyance from others. & I never know which one I’m about to get.

So without making this a whole soapbox, here’s my tip for kindness:

If you know someone struggles with food, the kind phrasing is:
“Hey, I know a good spot. Do you want to look up the menu? Let me know if it works or not, then we can look together?”

It’s so much easier to say “yes” or “no, let’s just go” than for you to say, “We’re going here,” & I have to say, “Um, actually… I can’t.”

That “um, actually” is where the shame lives.
Where the feeling of being a burden settles in.
Where I become the problem instead of the situation just being… a situation that needs a small adjustment.

That “um, actually” is where the shame lives. Where the feeling of being a burden settles in. Where I become the problem instead of the situation just being… a situation that needs a small adjustment.

Now, you might be thinking: But what if it’s my birthday & I want to go to my favorite restaurant? Or I have an intense craving & I’m dreaming of biscuits.

Obviously, I’m not frustrated by that. In that situation, I will 100% snack in the car, order only drinks, & come along. That’s not the issue.

The issue is when it’s a random Tuesday, everyone is randomly hungry, nobody can decide & my needs are treated like they’re ruining everything.

Moving Forward

& honestly? The restaurant anxiety is just the tip of it. I’ve spared you the intense stories from the medical field, navigating appointments where I’m advocating for my own health with doctors who are too rushed, too dismissive, or too convinced they already know what’s wrong before I’ve finished speaking.

It’s sad that we’ve built a system too fast-paced to really understand people. Where “efficient care” often means no one has time to sit with complexity.

It’s systemic. We’ve built a world too fast-paced to sit with complexity, too efficiency-driven to really understand.

But here’s what I’m working on: surrounding myself with people who ask instead of assume. Who make room instead of making me explain why I need it. & when I can’t control the system? I at least try to control how I show up for others.

I’m still processing these experiences.

I’m writing this as a reminder to myself & maybe to you:

Your needs are valid.

Your differences aren’t defects.

& you deserve to be around people who understand that words matter—

not just in theory, but in practice.

The small shifts in how we phrase things? Those aren’t just niceties. They’re the difference between making someone feel seen or making them feel like a problem to solve.