When people are hurtful, they are often afraid. Afraid of being seen too deeply, of losing control, of being vulnerable, of not being enough. Their sharp words and cold silences are sometimes just shields, armor forged from their own wounds. It doesn’t excuse the pain they cause, but it can help us understand where it comes from.
Maybe we should love them so much that they feel safe enough to fall apart. Safe enough to let the anger spill, to reveal the fear behind the lashing out, not because we deserve it, but because they’ve never known what it feels like to be loved through their storms.
And maybe we don’t flinch. Maybe we hold steady, not as doormats, but as lighthouses. Strong. Rooted. Kind.
Because love, real love, doesn’t mean staying silent. It means seeing the brokenness beneath the armor, and choosing to meet it with truth and grace.
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