I have a tendency, sometimes, to talk too much. Spurts of lengthy monologues are usually triggered by too much (or just enough?) alcohol or, hell, even coffee. I talk too much because I think too much, my brain stopping me from something, one thing, every day. I can’t run that fast it hurts too much. Etc.
So talking, thinking, talking, thinking has led to the very real problem of being very really absorbed in my own life. I cried this weekend because I couldn’t get my emotions to line up with my outer self — why do I feel this way. Instead of, you know, just feeling however.
I read somewhere, most likely on a shitty Instagram post, that if you stopped complaining about everything for 24 hours, i.e. not even an “it’s too hot today” comment, you would see the world in a different light. I tried it. It’s hard.
I get discouraged sometimes. I was riled up about gun violence last week. I mean, I still am. But last week I was about to cry in rage. It’s bullshit is what it is.
One of my best friends lost her mom last week. Just like that. Her vibrant, beautiful mom. Why?
It’s enough to make you want to continue the self-absorption, to want to crawl into yourself and actually genuinely care about your recent haircut. I cut my hair on Monday and I wonder how my life will change.
I can remember so many botched relationships — some romantic, most just acquaintances that could have been friends. I talked over so many people to get to the place where I talked over so many people. Not necessarily out loud, but you know what I mean.
I try so hard to listen. That’s not true.
When I remember to listen my relationships blossom. They sit softly where they are and they just grow and grow and my mind quiets itself for a moment. It’s not about me, right then. It’s about giving someone else space. Your turn.
Let’s be real, writing right now is talking about myself.
But I encourage any and everyone to take one relationship, any one at all and infuse it with some listening. Deep breath in and out. Don’t say a word.