"Women Are Just..."

I promise, this is the last one from my 9ja trip.

So we were in an Uber when a radio program on men's mental health came on.

It was supposed to be a call in program to encourage men to speak up and own their mental health.

Then came this caller.

And within a few minutes, he had reached a conclusion.

"Women are just there to have men raise their children."

That was the statement.

Not some women.

Not certain women.

Women.

Then he explained why.

He shared the story of an uncle.

A man who spent his life providing for his wife and children.

He worked hard...

sacrificed...

showed up for his family.

Now he's old.

He suffered a stroke recently.

He had to move back to the village.

According to the caller, the same children he sacrificed for...abandoned him but are taking good care of their mother.

It was a sad story.

A painful story.

A heartbreaking story.

But as I listened, something stood out immediately.

The story explained the pain.

It did not justify the conclusion.

Because somewhere between the uncle's experience and the caller's conclusion...

a leap had occurred.

A wound had become a worldview.

And that's dangerous... VERY dangerous.

One of the easiest ways to identify unhealed pain is the language of absolutes.

"Women are..."

"Men always..."

"They never..."

"You can't trust..."

"Nobody..."

"Everybody..."

Pain loves absolutes.

Because absolutes simplify a complicated world.

If one person hurt me, then everyone like them becomes suspect.

If one relationship failed, then the entire institution must be broken.

If one betrayal happened, then trust itself becomes foolish.

It's emotionally satisfying.

But it's rarely true.

And we are all guilty of this...at one time or the other.

A spouse disappoints us.

And suddenly,

"You never listen."

One disagreement becomes:

"You always do this."

One bad season becomes:

"Our marriage is falling apart."

The facts become exaggerated by the feelings.

Not because we're lying.

Because we're hurting.

The problem is that trauma is a poor statistician.

It takes one painful experience and presents it as universal truth.

Elijah did something similar after his victory on Mount Carmel.

In his despair, he told God:

"I alone am left."

It felt true.

But it wasn't.

God responded by telling him there were still seven thousand people who had not bowed to Baal.

His pain distorted his perception.

And that's what wounds do.

They take a real experience and convince us it represents the entire picture.

But wisdom requires a pause.

A pause long enough to ask:

"Is this true?

Or is this just what my pain is telling me?"

Because one uncle's story cannot define all women.

Just as one failed marriage cannot define all marriages.

Just as one absent father cannot define all men.

When we start speaking in absolutes, we often stop seeing people.

We only see categories.

And categories are easier to resent than individuals.

Have you noticed that Jesus ONLY saw people?

Not labels.

Not stereotypes.

Not groups.

People.

That's one reason healing matters so much.

Because unhealed wounds don't just affect our emotions.

They affect our conclusions.

And eventually, those conclusions affect our relationships.

So the next time you find yourself speaking in absolutes

That may just be pain speaking.

And pain deserves compassion.

But it should not always be handed the microphone.

👣 Be Better. 💛 Love Better. 🙌🏾 Do Better. 💍Marriage Works.

© Lanre Olagbaju