communication – Yellywelly

It’s certainly been an interesting few weeks for me. Interesting is probably a tepid way of describing the last few days. But it’ll do for now.

I’ve always valued telling it like it is, but at the same time, I’ve always erred on the side of very polite, very cautionary, socially accepted discourse. I am, after all, the daughter of my mother, who has always had the gift of utterance – she always knew how to say things in a way that fit the situation. She never failed to try to teach her children the value of saying the right things at the right time, in the right way so that the intended message was delivered correctly (she often wrote speechers for government officials – even for the president of the Philippines once, so yeah, she knew what she was doing!).

I remember having a no-holds-barred conversation with a friend (who sadly is no longer a close friend) and I let it rip – I said exactly what I thought, in exactly the way I thought I should say it. And I hurt them. I know our friendship was never the same after that and we never recovered. I learned a valuable lesson that day – gauge your audience and adjust. It’s the sensible, sensitive, and considerate thing to do.

It’s also such a limiting way to live your life. But it’s living within the social mores. The adult way of colouring within the lines.

My communication style in relationships has also fallen into rhythms in pretty much the same way. Especially in the most important of my relationships. I had to adjust how I said things so that the people I was speaking to understood what I was saying. I know you’re meant to be able to say what you want how you want to say it to the people who are meant to know you best. But it wasn’t exactly how it worked out for me. I found myself walking on eggshells and walking the emotionally-charged verbal tightrope with my most important relationship. I know that relationships are two-way streets and it should always be a bipartisan effort but let’s be honest, it’s not always a 50-50 work split in relationships. Someone always does more work, is more considerate, bends backward more, and it’s not usually the person who thinks they’re the ones who do this. My fault is that I do jump with two feet into relationships – I love (or become involved) so completely that I put everything of myself in relationships and I fully immerse myself into being who they need (because maybe I subconsciously hope they’re doing the same for me). I wrap myself around the person and be who they want me to be because I want to make them happy in the way they make me happy. In healthy relationships, the other person will want you to be who you are, they will see who you really are and not who they want you to be, and they want you to show them who you are so that you grow together. I don’t think all my relationships were necessarily healthy. Or more specifically, some of the people I was in relationships with weren’t necessarily in a space to contribute to a healthy relationship, or want to work on having a healthy, well-rounded relationship. But there you go. Hindsight is always 20-20.

I’ve been reacquainting myself with who I am again…or at least who I was before this last relationship imploded. Whether correctly or incorrectly, I’ve decided that my case of arrested development stems from my being involved in this relationship – I stopped being who I was and growing into the person I was meant to be because I became the person that I thought this relationship needed me to be. But that’s all changed now, I think. I’m relearning to say no when it serves me, when I think I need to say no because whatever is happening doesn’t sit well with me. I’m relearning the boundaries that I actually have and I’m reassessing whether they are actually where they need to be or whether I can stretch them. I’m actually having fun reacquainting myself with who I am.

And because I am getting to know myself again, I am (re)learning my quirks. I am still polite, I will always try to be diplomatic about things, and I will probably always try to be what people need me to be in relationships – because that’s who I am. But I think at the same time. I have actually started to take steps back when things aren’t right for me. I’ve actually said no several times when my hard limits were reached. I’ve also learned to not give too much of myself now. I used to overcompensate but now I think I’m learning to match the energy that I’m being served. It’s all a work in progress and I’m all about the WIP these days.

What hasn’t changed though is my overthinking. It’s exhausting and I know it’s something I need to work on. I still think it’s a superpower (yes, probably flawed reasoning!) because I know it’s protected me from a lot of situations – I’ve been able to mentally prepare myself for heartache and disappointment because I’ve overthought situations to death or it’s allowed me to be good at my job because I’ve considered every possible scenario, or it’s just allowed me to think of permutations so I’m prepared for most things (yes, I accept that overthinking is not good, but I think I’ve survived well on this planet because of this, so this will be difficult to manage!).

So trust me, I may smile, I may pretend to be confused or ditsy or inept (and to be fair, with the brain fog that I go through some days, this might be more genuine than you think!), I may say the polite thing and say okay, but I know when I’m being managed, because I’ve overthought everything (twice!).

I would rather hear the truth, receive the critique, be told off than dance the polite dance and get platitudes. It doesn’t serve anyone.

“When words become unclear, I shall focus with photographs. When images become inadequate, I shall be content with silence.” ― Ansel Adams

I’ve always had something to say, an opinion to express, or an argument to make. My family encouraged vocal discourse; my father’s family fostered an environment where dry, sarcastic humour was used to drive home a point; my mother’s family encouraged debate – about everything: political opinion, religious dogma, the traffic, the path of the ants on the wall, you name it, my mother’s family would happily discuss and argue about it. So naturally, I talked. A lot. It was the only logical development in my communication progression. I had to fight to be heard, so I learned how to talk.

But lately, I’ve found that quietness is good too. That thinking and not necessarily talking about the thoughts that run through your head is also a good thing. I’ve learned that sometimes chatter is just a filler. Sometimes companionable silence is a sign of true acceptance and belonging. You don’t always have to say things to be understood.

Of course, the caveat to that is that one has to talk, so that feelings can be understood and there won’t be any misunderstandings. There is that old maxim that says “actions speak louder than words.” This is true. I am also of the persuasion that things that can be said must be said. It’s never better left unsaid.