Constantly Talking, Rarely Heard

Readers,

I talk a lot. I always have, I don't know if I always will. My mom likes to make jokes about how one day I started talking, and that I haven't stopped since. Its true. It is true that I talk more than people have the capacity to listen to. It's true that sometimes when I talk, I do not have a dialogue, I am only speaking. Or waiting to speak. It is true that I talk over others. 

You see, growing up- I felt like no one cared about the things I had to say. Well, except my dad. My opinions were secondary, my feelings were unimportant (since I was only a child), and my thoughts - well no one thought a young girl should have that many thoughts.

So my opinions festered, my feelings embarrassed me, and my thoughts felt trapped. I thought the problem was me. Perhaps I lacked the skills to truly tell anyone what my thoughts and feelings and opinions were. Perhaps if I learned how to do these things, things would be better. I would not be so misunderstood, so isolated. I set out on a journey to become well-versed in the art that was communication. Today, I have a well-cultivated vocabulary and an arsenal of words to express myself with. In three languages. I studied communications. 

If there is one thing I can do well, it is to communicate.

It still isn't enough. Despite having the motivation, ability, and drive to express myself, I am never actually feeling heard. I don't think any amount of advanced vocabulary can help me with this, though. This is why I overcompensate and can’t seem to shut up. I so desperately want to make sure that what I am saying is reaching others. It ends up being a whole lot of noise and nothing. It also hurts my feelings when people admit to not hearing me — since I tend to be so loquacious.  

This comes with a belief in my network, a false one. My loved ones think I don't listen to them. I wonder then how  I know every detail about everyone’s lives. I wonder why everyone is so comfortable telling me difficult things. I wonder why so many people tell me they feel understood by me. My brother says I have a habit of repeating things a lot. I know I do. It's because I never know if people registered what I had previously addressed. I wish I could say little to someone and still feel understood. I wish the voices in my head were quieter. I wish my loved ones could hear the noise just once. 

I have built a whole world of coping mechanisms around me trying to tackle this deep sense of alone-ness.  I am bubbly with exaggerated ways of speaking. I love hyperboles. I can be so incredibly charming and the performance is always excellent. I have a way with words, I'm told. And yet, even now, I continue feeling deep isolation, rejection, and a constant state of never being truly and fully known. So I cope by speaking, debating, baiting, and defending. I cope by communicating, articulating, and perfecting the skill that is conversation. And I still always fail. 

For I hardly, if ever, feel like I have effectively communicated with the intention of reaching my message to my audience. 

Why is it so hard to feel heard? Why is it so hard to listen? They say to be loved is to be known. I say to be loved is to be understood. I wish more people understood. I am terrified that perhaps no one truly does. Moreover, I am terrified that I myself cannot.

I dream of a day when I wouldn't feel compelled to talk so much. Not because I no longer have thoughts, but because I’ll no longer feel the need to prove myself—to myself or to others. Maybe, one day, the noise will soften. Maybe I’ll speak less, and worry less about whether I’m understood. Maybe, in those moments of quiet, I’ll finally feel heard. And maybe that will be enough.

Yours Truly,
Tinderella