Sage Words

Sage Justice

5.0 (4)
News
Monthly

Infusing empathy and wisdom into universal challenges. sagejustice.substack.com

Oct 27

My best friend died and I’m talking to his ghost.

Crying while reading poem at the end. Real human having real human emotions. No AI. For the past 30+ years, Ken and I communicated almost daily. He was my best friend, my husband’s best friend when they were younger, and who I hoped would be my daughter’s future best friend when I am gone. We made each other laugh and think and feel and love, what could be more human? How am I going to keep moving through this world without the man who gave me legs? Ken loved anything weird, creative, and fantastical. All things that described his spirit, and reflected the little family we nurtured together. He had a deep appreciation for talent and a great eye for it. He was an intellectual, and often the most interesting person in any room. He was entertaining, funny, opinionated, well read, and could carry a conversation about any topic. Ken was a true art connoisseur and knew more about the breadth of all art forms from every medium (opera, visual artists, film, theatre, music, performers, etc.) than anyone I’ve ever know. His mind was sharp. His tongue was sharper. Ken didn’t suffer fools gladly. He was my greatest teacher for how to stand up for myself against people who were treating me poorly. If there are any women reading this who are people pleasers or who are working hard to fit into a family or foundation and doing everything in their power to be liked or accepted, allow me to impart some freedom to you on behalf of Ken. He was the person who gave me the courage to say, “F*ck off!” to anyone being disrespectful. I started with creeps in my DMs and escalated to people I knew in real life who were being cruel under a guise of “nice.” It’s empowering to set boundaries with “people you’d cross a river for who wouldn’t bother to cross a street for you.” I can’t begin to tell you how good it feels to be able to pull a Ken and say what you mean and mean what you say. Every time you do, it gets easier and easier. Highly recommend it. 10 out of 10! On behalf of all women, thank you, Ken. Where Ken taught me the courage to speak my mind, I’d like to think I taught him temperance in speaking his. For the flip side to having an honest friend is that feelings can get hurt, but damage can also be repaired. We were teachers to each other. Nothing was off limits when it came to our friendship- in the beginning, we fought hard, toward the end, we loved harder. We made it safe to tell the truth, and safe to passionately disagree and argue respectfully; safe to say, “I love you.” We were committed and devoted to each other as friends and chosen family and we knew that no matter how frustrated we might get with one another, that we would never abandon each other, and we never did. He never abandoned my daughter either. When I was five months pregnant with her I almost miscarried and was put on bed rest for the remainder of my pregnancy. He flew from Arizona to Los Angeles, climbed in bed with me, held my hand, and ate ice cream straight from the pint as we watched Grey Gardens, the documentary, and laughed at ourselves as a projection of the two Edies. He made me mix tapes (CDs) with songs like, “Do you realize?” by The Flaming Lips, with lyrics that are particularly poignant today. “Do you realizeThat everyone you know someday will die? And instead of saying all of your goodbyesLet them know you realize that life goes fastIt’s hard to make the good things lastYou realize the sun doesn’t go downIt’s just an illusion caused by the world spinning round” He pushed me in the wheelchair so we could see The Hockney exhibit when it was at LACMA. He came with me to chess tournaments when I was the only woman in a room full of 40 awkward men but determined to play against all and win the prize money for the breast pump I wanted after the baby arrived. He’d known my in-laws since he was 15-years-old, practically grew up in my husband’s house. His insights about each of them helped me understand the family dynamics. He often predicted accurately how holiday plans would turn out, what people would say and do, or not say and do, and he had clear explanations of why it would happen. This all helped create clarity for us when we were left confused by outcomes we didn’t expect. Ken was brave, even though I don’t think he would ever claim to be. He came out as gay in high school in the mid 1970s, although during the time I’ve known him he’s never had a romantic relationship that I know of- he wasn’t interested. He was true to himself. You always knew where you stood with Ken. He lived his life by his standards and to me that’s brave. Ken was one-of-a-kind. I’ve never met anyone like him and I don’t suppose I ever will again. When my daughter was born, “guncle” was a popular term being used for gay uncles. I asked him what he wanted to be called and he said, “Auntie Ken.” I think it was supposed to be a passing playful nod to Auntie Mame, but it stuck. He’s been a consistent presence in my daughter’s life since the day she was born. All through her education from elementary school through college, he made himself available for pep talks before chess tournaments, award ceremonies, biology finals, and deadlines to finish her film. He’s encouraged her as an Auntie would with congratulations for every acceptance letter she received. When she was challenged by health issues, he reached out to provide her with comfort, prayed for her, and offered suggestions to help. When she was stressed out, confused, or sad, he shared personal stories about his own life when he was her age to let her know that he knew what she was going through. He introduced her to music, films, and art. They texted each other almost as much as he and I did. They discussed their joint love of the score for Kiki’s Delivery Service and laughed together through many shared memes. Because of Ken’s influence, Gracie is much stronger with healthy boundaries than I was at her age. Ken had congestive heart failure. He knew he was going to die sooner than later. Still, I got 19 more months with him than I thought I would have. In March of 2025, he had a surgery that left him bedridden. His quality of life dramatically decreased. This past summer, while Gracie was studying in England, he shared the story with her of how he and I met and became best friends. I think he was trying to prepare us for what was to come. Except, there’s no way to prepare to lose someone you love as profoundly as his people loved him. Ken lived by his own rules. He knew the consequences of his actions and made informed choices. If life is for the living, he intended to LIVE. He was a self-proclaimed glutton and loved all the foods we are told to avoid for our health whilst simultaneously having a haughty disdain for anything associated with exercise or nature. He loved to indulge in all the senses. He had a hungry mind that needed to be in a perpetual state of being tickled by talent. He listened to opera as loudly as the low riders blasted rap music. He absorbed books the way influencers absorb Korean skin care. He mixed gourmet teas, colored them purple, and drank them from beautiful glasses like royalty, juxtaposed with the earthiness of The Round Table. Ken drew pleasure from all his senses: visual, taste, touch, sound, smell, and psychic; it’s one of the many things we shared in common. Ken went into the hospital about a week ago with presumed pneumonia that turned out to be heart failure. They released him to “let nature take its course” in the comfort of his own bed. I was told that on October 25, he ordered his lunch at the assisted living facility, by the time they arrived with his tray of food, he was gone. I can only assume it was a massive, sudden heart attack as we’d recently learned that three arteries to his heart had a 90% blockage. We prayed that it was painless. We’ve been grieving as a family over the phone since my husband is still tethered to California, for now. Whilst Ken had an expansive vocabulary that could cause plebeians to check their dictionaries, one of his favorite common words was “f*ck.” He was a man of the people, (and by “people” I mean eccentrics). The morning after he passed, I began crying in the shower until I heard his voice say, “Stop!” “Enjoy the water. I miss it already, the sense of floating in the pool or taking a warm shower- the sensation of water on the skin. There are no earthly pleasures where I am- in the spirit world, or whatever this place is. Everyone is f*cking blissed out and peaceful and it’s boring as f*ck! I miss the contrast. There’s no contrast here. It’s all oneness bullsh*t. I miss the drama of life. Don’t honor me through tears, honor me through the senses. Eat a greasy cheeseburger, drink some aromatic citrus tea, blast Berlioz, take in some art, and for Christ sake, enjoy the f*cking shower because they don’t have those in ‘heaven.’” When I got out of the shower my phone was opened to YouTube with a clip titled, “The dead don’t die.” Now that the psychic connection was clear, I sensed Ken say, “You know I don’t care about this Kumbaya crap so why am I dressed like Gandhi in a toga? At least I’m skinny again. Look, I can do jumping jacks, I have so much energy. Can you use your abilities to send me to where Chip’s mom went where they have martinis?” Chip is a member of our friend group. He also went to high school with my husband and Ken. In September, the spirit of Chip’s mom came to me. She asked me to let Chip know that she planned to leave her body later that month, which I did. People have often asked me why a spirit would come to me if they don’t know me personally. It’s the same reason we go to the post office, even if we may not know the employees there: to send a message. I don’t know why I’m like the post office for the spirit world, but I have been since childhood. The problem is that somet
Aug 10

Have You Earned Your Right to Live?

The Retirement Package for Unpaid Labor No community was ever built on the premise of “Every man for himself,” yet we live in a capitalist society that claims your worth is defined only by what you can afford through monetary means. If you spent your life taking care of the needs of others as a volunteer for unpaid services, are you deserving of the goodness you cannot afford later in life when you need to rely on others to take care of you? Ask the average person, “Who in our society is deserving of travel, of occasionally eating out or having something nice?” and the typical answer might be, “Someone who works hard and earns the right to those privileges.” To this, we should ask ourselves, “Do all people who work hard get paid?” The answer, of course, is, “No.” In fact, it could be argued that those who work the hardest in society are usually the least paid. “If working harder and longer hours were the key to wealth, then every maid and mother would be a millionaire.” Every well-oiled system, from family to government, is greased by the hands of unpaid labor, such as grandmothers cooking in kitchens, aunties babysitting nieces and nephews, and mothers organizing fundraisers or baking goods for the neighborhood schools and churches. Yet, when the opportunity comes for those grandmothers, aunties, and mothers to retire and travel, and they have no money to do so, society responds with the callous uncaring and woefully ignorant reply of, “Too bad you didn’t earn more so you could have saved money like we did, in order to deserve an occasional goodness or retirement necessities,” all of the while saying such words without the humility to acknowledge that they never would have been able to accomplish what they had without the unpaid sacrifices of caregivers, family, and community who helped them make it possible for them to do so. What Does it Mean to “Earn” that which is Deserving? You can’t earn more from a job that doesn’t pay to begin with. People assume if you have no savings, it’s because you didn’t budget your spending well instead of understanding that you have no savings because you had little to no income despite working hard. It’s time for society to compensate caregivers for their unpaid labor in the name of love, because love alone can’t be used to pay the bills. “Norway, Sweden, and Iceland began building policy around this truth decades ago. … When you make the invisible visible, everything gets better.” To “earn” is to obtain some form of currency in exchange for labor. Not all earnings come from money. In fact, when you look at Webster’s definition of the word “earn,” most examples do not include the word “money.” It’s only the “AI Overview” definitions that have proliferated and populated every search engine, which include the word, “money” over and over again, removing our humanity one word meaning at a time. Those who can financially provide for themselves were often indoctrinated in childhood to believe that the best way to care for themselves is to provide for themselves; but “to provide” and “to care” are two different things, and both are needed. A government agency can “provide,” but it takes a human to “care.” If we are too focused on one, we negate the other. Caring takes a level of vulnerability not often found in the mechanics of providing. You Can’t Outsource Love No amount of money to a high paid nanny for your children, or capable nurse for your aging parents will ever compare to the care they receive from someone who loves them. When I was taking care of my energetic nieces and nephews, nurturing their individual sensitivities and needs, memorizing their food preferences, likes and dislikes, cheerleading their every endeavor from sports, to performing, to academics, delighting in their presence and making memories by taking them to the beach, movies, or out to eat, acting as a taxi and chaperon service for their extra curricular activities, being the family archivist who takes home movies and photographs at birthday parties and holiday celebrations, or providing comfort, and a safe place to land in my home in the aftermath of endured trauma, I would have taken a bullet to protect their lives. No hired help their parents could have paid for would do have done the same. When my grandmother required 24/7/365 care, that included constant medication monitoring, adult diapers, projectile vomiting, endless laundry, every-other-day specialist appointments, monthly hospitalizations, and the thick skin of a rhino to endure the cruel signs of dementia, her needs could never have been managed with the same level of care by hired help. No single nurse could have had her medical records, allergies, and history committed to memory like I did or provided the commitment to care that I was willing to give. No nurse could have stayed by her bedside through every painful, frightening, medical emergency she experienced, holding her hand, gently brushing her hair, or massaging her feet to bring her even an ounce of comfort or distraction from the fear and pain, before they would have been called to help a dozen other patients with demanding needs in that same time period. My devotion to her was the soft kindness that helped make all of her discomforts bearable. Those acts of love cannot be outsourced, and it feels awkward to accept payment for caring for someone you love. I never wanted my loved ones to think I was present for them because I expected to be paid, so I refused even the idea. I wasn’t thinking about how a lifetime of caregiving could leave me financially destitute by the time I began my descent into retirement. We have to change the narrative around unpaid labor as merely an act of love and consider the long-range impact. Family members deserve financial compensation for caregiving. Thank you cards or occasional gifts are nice in the moment, but they don’t earn interest in a savings account to provide for us in our old age. At the time, the kind of care I provided was valued beyond measure. There is no price tag for peace of mind when it comes to the protection of our children or vulnerable parents. If caregiving with the tenderness of love were a company position it would come with deposits into a retirement fund with compounded interest, financial bonuses of appreciation, and a hearty pension. Instead, it comes with gratitude in the moment and faded memories with time. Once the kids are grown and the aging, ailing parents pass away, there is no longer a demanding need requiring attention or appreciation for the caregiver. There is nothing in a bank to show for the years given or the sacrifices made. The loyalty given is no longer reciprocated because too often people only reach out when they are in need. When the need passes, they stop reaching out. Caregivers are Essential Workers in Society During the pandemic we discovered who the most important people to our survival were and we called them “essential workers.” They were broken down into five categories: medical, sanitation, food service, teachers, and caregivers (especially to children and elderly). Value is not the same as worth, especially when it comes to survival. We are all born with inherent worth, but our value is how that worth serves others and is seen by others. Another way of looking at it is to consider the worth of water: a survival necessity. In situations where water is plentiful, it’s free; therefore it has worth, but no price, no value. In situations where it’s scarce, and necessary, its worth doesn’t change but its value, its price, can skyrocket. When we think about who and what has the most value, we think about what we need to survive. Caregiving, like water, is essential to communal survival. It’s often done by family and friends, usually women and is mostly unpaid labor. The Currency of Care I did not earn a pension for taking care of my grandmother for seven and a half years; but I learned compassion, patience, advoca… Get full access to Sage Words at sagejustice.substack.com/subscribe
May 4

She’s Risking Her Life for Her Dreams

This profoundly personal article was written by Sage Justice with permission by Gracie Justice . If you’ve ever fought to make your dreams come true, this piece is for you. May is Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome Awareness Month. Please read and share this article with anyone you know who has ever had a dream or suffers from chronic illness or pain and refuses to give up or give in to defeat. Thank you for your kindness, compassion and support. It’s greatly appreciated. While I encourage you to enjoy the photos and click on the links below, I have also recorded this piece for your listening convenience if you prefer not to read. Sage Words is a reader-supported publication. To receive new compelling posts and support my vulnerable work, please consider becoming a paid subscriber. Your financial contributions go directly to supporting the courageous and talented artist, Gracie Justice. IMMUNOCOMPROMISED The immunocompromised can’t afford to take a single exposure to the public for granted. Every crowd from the bus to the bank, from the mall to the market, to the elevator, canteen, plane, or train, is a threat in which she has to weigh its worth against her own. While her mates are going out to the pubs or movies on weeknights, or concerts and festivals on the weekends and holidays, she spends nearly every nonworking hour in recovery from the exhaustive nature of day-to-day living with health challenges. In addition to the safety precautions she embraces to protect her health when engaging with the public, it’s also her natural inclination to communicate on deeper levels beyond surface conversations. She prefers connecting one-on-one to socializing in large groups. Her peers gather together in community for meals and creative experiences, whilst she’s eating in the garden alone or working in a room where she can keep a window or door open for air flow (a safety measure against illness). Not only does she have to navigate the unseen germs but so too the misunderstood opinions of others as to why she spends so much time away from them. While many people are kind, compassionate, and supportive; others take her absence as a personal rejection of them instead of the embrace for survival it is for her. They have no idea that she is risking her life for her dreams. She cannot afford to risk it for their approval too. Whilst they are gathered as a group socializing in crowded spaces, unmasked and speaking too close to faces, she is shielding herself from the errant unprotected cough, the contagious sneeze, and the infected surface. If she leaves a door open for airflow, it makes the environment safer for her, but at times, more uncomfortable for others if it’s too hot, too cold, or too windy or rainy outside. She’s constantly between the rock of taking care of her health needs and the hard place of not being an inconvenience to others in doing so. The most thoughtful person in the room can be judged as being inconsiderate in an attempt to simply consider their needs in addition to everyone else’s. Learning to live with being misunderstood is an occupational hazard of those with chronic illness. Discreet Disclosure She reveals her medical conditions on a need to know basis because sharing doesn’t always mean other people will be caring. “Bessel Van Der Kolkata, M.D. makes a powerful point in his book, “The Body Keeps Score,” when he writes, “Talking about painful events doesn’t necessarily establish community — often quite the contrary. Families and organizations may reject members who air the dirty laundry; friends and family can lose patience with people who get stuck in their grief or hurt. This is one reason why trauma victims often withdraw and why their stories become rote narratives, edited into a form least likely to provoke rejection. It’s an enormous challenge to find safe places to express the pain of trauma.” Compassion fatigue is very real in our society, especially with the heightened drama of the fast-paced news cycle. Everyone is seems is overwhelmed and stressed out. As Paul Fussell wrote, “No one is very interested in the bad news [you] have to report.” Adding to this is the cultural and medical stigma that if you talk too much about your pain, you must be doing so just to get attention, or that you are neurotic or that your illness is your only identity and therefore all you can talk about. But as Karen Duffy, author of the books “Model Patient and Living with Chronic Pain Without Turning into One” so eloquently coined, “Concealing an illness is like keeping a beach ball under water.” What’s the Risk? The common cold that slows their roll for four days, can turn into a dangerous case of RSV and knock her down for four weeks. When they get the flu, they only need a day or two of rest; and they can push through it and still work while symptomatic. When she gets the flu, it can turn into life threatening sepsis and a hospital stay. The average person has an allergic reaction, and it inconveniences them. She has an allergic reaction, and it flattens her. “A ship is safe in harbor, but that’s not what ships were made for.” She has a dream and the talent and skill set worth investing in; but to do so, she takes great risks that most people will never understand. What Causes This? She didn’t inherit just one genetic disorder: Vascular Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (vEDS), a heart and connective tissue disorder, but so too the comorbidities associated with it, like Mast Cell Activation Syndrome (MCAS), Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS), Raynaud’s Syndrome, and Gastroparesis to name the current stars on the marquee of chronic offenses, with a special guest appearance by a bleeding disorder that requires treatments that are not always easy to find or afford. POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome) Throughout the day, POTS, a multi-system disorder of the autonomic nervous system, grabs her heart, makes it race, and squeezes it into tachycardia. This can come from something as seemingly benign as an electrolyte imbalance brought on by a room that’s too hot. POTS can knock her to the ground if she stands too long, pooling her blood into her feet and making her faint and foggy in the brain. RAYNAUDS (Raynaud’s Syndrome) Raynaud’s Syndrome turns her fingers two different colors from reduced blood flow as a result of small arterial spasms. Some fingers become white, then blue, and can feel freezing and others are red and hot; leaving her hands and feet blotchy and clammy, dripping with sweat and sometimes numb. Every food choice, ideally takes into consideration the balance of blood sugar, electrolytes, potassium, and magnesium intake, whilst monitoring histamines and managing gut microbiome and ferritin levels. No choice is made lightly without great consequence. GASTROPARESIS Gastroparesis not only can cause paralyses to the stomach muscles, preventing them from digesting food, but so too spasms preventing the stomach from receiving food. Living with Gastroparesis requires a hypervigilance, not just around what and when she eats, but so too how she exercises. As a child, she was playing with a friend in a home gym, swinging from a rope with the others, just having fun being a kid and using her stomach muscles like the rest of the girls. However, when they got off the rope, the other girl’s muscles relaxed whereas hers continued to contract involuntarily for over 24 hours. These spasms can cause relentless vomiting that can throw off electrolytes so quickly that it can lead to death. Her maternal great-grandmother had gastroparesis spasms that led to hours of uncontrollable vomiting and an electrolyte and potassium imbalance that caused her to flatline. She died for three minutes on the table in an emergency room as a result. She was brought back to life with a defibrillator and chest compressions. Her paternal… Get full access to Sage Words at sagejustice.substack.com/subscribe
07/08/2025

On The Spectrum of Healing

Photo Image: A person stands on shadowed sand facing a mysterious pool of light between the edge of darkness where they are and the lingering sunset filled with hopeful clouds of pink, and yellow streaks across a cobalt sky with indigo edges. Photo by Sage Justice Still You Shine | Sage Justice I won’t say, “Get well soon” for soon is not soon enough in this moment of timeless suspension where I know a well of health still bubbles within you for without it you would not still be here ————— I won’t say, “I hope you feel better” for hope is faith unseen and I see in you all that is perfect, whole and complete. there is no “better” moment than the presence of now knowing you are thought of cared for and so very loved ————— Therefore, I say, “Hello dear one how are you on the spectrum of healing today where are you pointing your view to hold your focus Has fear and hurt clouded your vision or do you remember all that you are and capable of being?” ————— It doesn’t matter where you stand on the spectrum of healing today for I will stand with you wherever you are in silence or in song ————— I will not dismiss your discomfort or minimize your pain nor the light within you that still glows. I see your shine and I hold it’s hand and walk with it at night under the moon by the raging waves of Mother Nature that knock us down and carry us home. ————— I choose to be a witness, not a judge, nor a jury, on this spectrum of healing, while offering inspiration and joy as our companions. Presenting art, music, laughter, and good food, as we Wonder and sing with Stevie, Songs in the Key of Life. ————— In a world where “change is the only constant in life” and “love is all there is” please allow me to remind you of the miracle of you— your magnificence your glory, your beauty, and your inherent health. Even in the face of hardship still you shine. © Sage Justice, July 7, 2025. After I witnessed an unknown poet have her work usurped, I was given the legal advice to place the following © date and statement on all my work: This concept/theory/poem is original to Sage Justice. If you use it, please give credit and link to original work. Thank you. www.SageWords.org I wrote this for one of my dear friend’s mother, who is going through cancer. I edited it with the thoughts of those who suffer from a chronic illness; are healing from trauma; PTSD; an acute injury; for my friends who don’t follow their dreams or pursue their passions for fear of failure; for all those who long deeply to be seen and to know their struggles haven’t been forgotten but who also grow weary of being asked about their progress managing their pain and are given platitudes in place of true compassion, empathy and understanding. May these words meet the hearts of those in need of healing. Photo Image: In a vintage style, Polaroid picture that looks a little worn, over-exposed but authentically sincere, Sage Justice stands on a pier with the ocean behind her at sunset. She is reaching out her hand to someone in need. She’s wearing a red hoodie, black pants, and a loving smile as her wind blown hair falls near her left shoulder. Sage Justice is an award-winning poet, author, critically acclaimed performing artist, and intensely sincere, bold humanitarian activist. Sage Words is a reader-supported publication. To receive thought-provoking inspiration please consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Poets rely largely on benefactors, and grants to pay the bills. Your support is invaluable. Thank you. If you appreciate this publication, Sage Words, but are unable to afford a subscription, please consider choosing the “Buy Me a Coffee” button when you can. Every little bit helps. Thanks! Buy Sage a Coffee Read the book FREEDOM ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Subscribe to Sage on Youtube Get full access to Sage Words at sagejustice.substack.com/subscribe
04/25/2025

He Broke My Trust

Special Thanks to Pamela Schacht for her striking original artwork @Pamschachtstudio (Description for the visually impaired: Canvas with crimson flowers that have fallen from sunkissed stems.) This may be the most important piece I’ve ever shared. It’s my hope that because the material is so relatable (we’ve all been betrayed or had our trust damaged) that it can help a great deal of people. The post is too long for email but you can click “view entire message” to see it all. This piece has been two years in the making. It’s on the long side so I’ve recorded it for you if you prefer to listen versus read. Please click on the triangle icon to hear this story. I respect your time and appreciate your engagement. Thank you so very much for being here with me. Buckle Up, Buttercup Throwing stones from glass houses leaves us all in shards of broken pieces. The idea of repair in conflict resolution is foreign to many people. They may not even know there’s an option that exists between going back to the way things were or cutting someone off completely. This is a show and tell about what repair, boundaries, and forgiveness look like in a relationship marred by damaged trust, taken from an excerpt of the full-length story entitled, “Pratfall from Grace.” Sage Words is a reader-supported publication. “I’m a paid subscriber because Sage Justice is an Inspiration and I want to support her continued work.” - L. E. Mastilock, author. Pratfall from Grace (excerpt) Sass and Daniel have history; they’ve known each other over half their lives. They even lived and worked with each other for a short time, many years ago. Throughout Daniel’s children’s lives, Sass was present for their sport games, artistic performances, birthday parties, illnesses, and other significant moments. In fact, Daniel and his wife asked Sass and her husband to be the legal guardians of their children, should anything ever happen to them. Sass took that role to heart and would have given her life for any one of those kids. When someone trusts you enough to leave their children in your care, you’d think they’d respect you enough to communicate with you openly, when there’s an issue, and not go behind your back. Open communication takes courage and character- the ability to remain in one’s own integrity even when personally uncomfortable. Sometimes, out of convenience to themselves, people move in disrespectful shadows; which is what Daniel did to Sass. When people get too comfortable in relationships (or too uncomfortable) they can take their loved ones for granted and damage trust. When that happens, they must offer repair. Sass confronted Daniel in search of understanding. The Confrontation Sass: Why didn’t you just come to me directly in good faith? The issue wasn’t that big of a deal. You damaged my trust in you. Why did you feel you had to go behind my back and try to get my husband to hide something from me? Daniel: Because I was scarred by a letter you wrote over 30 years ago. Sass was shocked and didn’t know if Daniel was joking or being serious. Sass: Are you kidding? Daniel: No. Sass: I’m sorry, she said, with a stifled laugh, are you seriously blaming your adult behavior in the present on something I did as a kid in the past? You’ve had over 30 years to talk to me about being “scarred,” and this is the first I’m hearing of it. Daniel: I’m just realizing it now. Sass: You’re just realizing now that you are “Scarred” from a letter you read over half your life ago? “Scarred” is a pretty serious word to use. Should I be worried about you? That sounds like a job for a therapist to help you process it. Daniel: I don’t need to process anything. I’m fine. Sass: Obviously, you are not “fine.” You broke my trust by saying one thing to my face and another behind my back the next day. It’s made me doubt your sincerity and question our entire history. All these years I chose to believe your words over your contradictory actions because you seem so sincere when you say things like, “I love you. I care about you. I miss you guys.” Yet, your actions have not demonstrated that. If you feel comfortable creating a secret text group, is there a secret email group too? Have you been lying all these years, pretending to love and care because it was easier than facing the uncomfortable truth that you don’t? I feel especially betrayed that you would try to get my husband to keep a secret from me. Is that the type of marriage you have, where you think it’s OK to keep secrets from your spouse? What the hell, Daniel? How to Repair “We mend our wounds by entering with a repair kit, not a shield and weapon. Accountability is the first step in repair.” Daniel: I’m sorry. Sass: I appreciate that, and I accept your apology; but I don’t trust you at your word anymore, only your actions. An apology alone doesn’t provide me with any reassurance that this won’t happen again. You can’t just say, “I’m sorry.” You need to offer repair. Daniel: What do you mean by repair? Sass: Repair is not the performative gesture of saying, “I’m sorry.” Repair is a change in behavior to fix what’s been broken, because “History unacknowledged is repeated.” Repair is what taking accountability for your behavior looks like. For example, if you hit someone’s car (intentionally or unintentionally), you’d take accountability by admitting what you did and paying for the repairs. When you hurt someone emotionally through lies, betrayal, or other harm (intentionally or unintentionally), you do the same. Repair is taking ownership for your own unresolved issues, judgements, and resentments that were used to justify disrespectful and hurtful behaviors. In this case, it might look like you saying, “I’m sorry I blamed my present disrespectful behavior toward you on something that happened over 30 years ago. If I had it to do over again, I would have worked through my past issues so that they were not coloring my present choices. I would have come to you directly instead of going behind your back. I would not have welcomed you to your face and then shut you out when you weren’t looking. I definitely would not have asked your husband to keep a secret from you.” If an apology gets to the point that it needs repair, you might want to send some apology flowers as well, just sayin’. Broken trust is a fault line where no one feels safe living. Even if the people involved no longer want to live there, the “you broke it, you fix it” rule still applies. Your inability to simply pick up the phone and talk to me directly and everything that followed after that has lead to trust so damaged that it’s broken apart an entire unit of people- no one in my household trusts you anymore. Without repair, this only gets worse. The longer you wait the more irreparable the damage becomes. Repair is not the act of mending a relationship that’s ended; it’s the act of mending the behavior that ended the relationship to avoid it from happening again with that person or another. What we fail to fix with the people we are at odds with now, we will likely repeat with the people we love the most in the future, like our children, in-laws, grandchildren, or partners. That’s because wherever we go, there we are, blaming others for our behavior instead of taking responsibility for our actions. As long as someone feels justified in blaming external circumstances for their behavior, they will continue to do so. Repair is the necessary action between an apology and the final stage of conflict resolution: choosing to reconcile a new “normal” or choosing to walk away. Repair creates moist ground where new seeds of healing can take place organically or a dry place to build a stone garden. Daniel: “I feel repair is not possible.” Full Stop! Sass was shocked and deeply saddened. In refusing to offer repair, Daniel was in effect putting the nail in the coffin of a 35-year-old relationship, not just with Sass, but with her husband and child as well. They all spent the next two years grieving a loss that didn’t have to be a… Get full access to Sage Words at sagejustice.substack.com/subscribe
04/12/2025

Mel Robbins, Plagiarism, Usurping, and the Protection of Unknown Writers.

Get full access to Sage Words at sagejustice.substack.com/subscribe
09/09/2023

Podcast Interview with The Handmaid’s Tale Emmy Winner, Kira Snyder

Get full access to Sage Words at sagejustice.substack.com/subscribe
04/26/2022

Wealth: Higher Income than we Deserve for Opportunities we are Lucky Enough to Have.

Get full access to Sage Words at sagejustice.substack.com/subscribe

8 Episodes

5

out of 5

4 Ratings

Infusing empathy and wisdom into universal challenges. sagejustice.substack.com

Creator

Sage Justice
Years Active

2022 - 2026
Episodes

8
Rating

Explicit
Copyright

© Sage Justice
Show Website

Sage Words