Being able to talk
There's a difference between speaking and being able to talk. That might sound strange, or convoluted, but let me explain. I can talk; of course I can talk. It's a skill I've had since I was at least 3, and at times I've been highly skilled at this. For example, when I was in secondary school, I got through to the finals of the youth-speaks competition on more than one occasion and I got an A* for the spoken part of the English GCSE. Heck: my job requires me to talk all day. I can talk, and I can make other people understand what I'm saying; it's a skill that I should be proud of. And yet. Sometimes, there is lots of speaking and not much in the way of meaningful talk.
This quote sums it up for me. And remains true to this day. Sometimes the (silent) screams of frustration of not being able to talk about anything meaningful is deafening. And I think the thing that sums this up is to rewind to 8 years ago when I first met my ED counsellor, Johanna. I'd had nearly 6 months of 'talking therapy' with Lynne, but in that whole time I don't think I'd been able to 'talk' openly in the way that I needed to. She went on leave as was having an operation and I was considered too 'risky' to not have weekly therapy at the time. As a result, I was transferred to Johanna. The idea was that I would only stay with her for 8-10 weeks and then transfer back to Lynne when she returned from leave. When I first met Johanna, I continued in the same vein. I spoke lots, but said little of any meaning for a number of weeks. And then Johanna challenged me one day: She was open about the fact that she'd spoken about me to her supervisor - that she felt like I could speak engagingly and captivatingly (her words, not mine) but that it felt like she was only seeing the picture that I was painting with words, which wasn't representative of what was *really* going on. I could 'speak' endlessly but I couldn't 'talk' openly. To this day, this observation remains the most emotionally 'naked' I've ever been; it was the first time that anyone had ever challenged me beyond my own capacity to 'talk around' the issue (or in fact speak captivatingly about anything but.)
It might seem silly that someone can spend an hour a week (minimum) 'speaking' about themselves but can fail to 'talk' in any depth. But it was Johanna that opened that pathway. I am still really good at 'speaking' but not 'talking', but there are a number of people who have now heard me 'talk'. Here's the thing though; sometimes I need a 'cruel but kind' approach and Johanna was my first experience of this. She wouldn't let me speak endlessly; she would stop me and delve into what was hiding behind the words. She heard my silent screams and gave them time to be heard, and with that, time to feel valued and understood for once. There are others who have done this too but I know how hard this must be; I come across as a 'sensitive soul' who is kind and gently spoken most of the time, so tackling my avoidance of talk isn't an easy one to do, nor is it something that I would enjoy most of the time. But those who have done this, I respect. I haven't always enjoyed it, but I respect it, and with hindsight see its value.
With this, I am not asking people to be brutal with me, I'm just acknowledging that this 'tackling' has not gone amiss, and it's helped me to see me more clearly in the long run. It's not been comfortable, and it's not a journey that is over, but I can see the value of 'being real'. After all:
And so, life throws many curve balls at you. Until recently I felt utterly destroyed by my recent encephalitis (another story altogether) but perhaps I need to remember the journey I have taken over the last 8 years. Where I've come from and where I've come to and all the swerves I've had to take in between. But maybe that's life. Not screaming silently, but acknowledging the difficulties as well as the 'good' bits; not speaking lots but talking little. It's a lesson that Johanna taught me, but it's one that some of the most important people in my life have helped me to uphold. No, things are not perfect, but once you are real you can't become unreal: a 'speech' can be prepared and 'performed' but being able to talk is an invaluable skill that can help you tackle life.
This quote sums it up for me. And remains true to this day. Sometimes the (silent) screams of frustration of not being able to talk about anything meaningful is deafening. And I think the thing that sums this up is to rewind to 8 years ago when I first met my ED counsellor, Johanna. I'd had nearly 6 months of 'talking therapy' with Lynne, but in that whole time I don't think I'd been able to 'talk' openly in the way that I needed to. She went on leave as was having an operation and I was considered too 'risky' to not have weekly therapy at the time. As a result, I was transferred to Johanna. The idea was that I would only stay with her for 8-10 weeks and then transfer back to Lynne when she returned from leave. When I first met Johanna, I continued in the same vein. I spoke lots, but said little of any meaning for a number of weeks. And then Johanna challenged me one day: She was open about the fact that she'd spoken about me to her supervisor - that she felt like I could speak engagingly and captivatingly (her words, not mine) but that it felt like she was only seeing the picture that I was painting with words, which wasn't representative of what was *really* going on. I could 'speak' endlessly but I couldn't 'talk' openly. To this day, this observation remains the most emotionally 'naked' I've ever been; it was the first time that anyone had ever challenged me beyond my own capacity to 'talk around' the issue (or in fact speak captivatingly about anything but.)
It might seem silly that someone can spend an hour a week (minimum) 'speaking' about themselves but can fail to 'talk' in any depth. But it was Johanna that opened that pathway. I am still really good at 'speaking' but not 'talking', but there are a number of people who have now heard me 'talk'. Here's the thing though; sometimes I need a 'cruel but kind' approach and Johanna was my first experience of this. She wouldn't let me speak endlessly; she would stop me and delve into what was hiding behind the words. She heard my silent screams and gave them time to be heard, and with that, time to feel valued and understood for once. There are others who have done this too but I know how hard this must be; I come across as a 'sensitive soul' who is kind and gently spoken most of the time, so tackling my avoidance of talk isn't an easy one to do, nor is it something that I would enjoy most of the time. But those who have done this, I respect. I haven't always enjoyed it, but I respect it, and with hindsight see its value.
With this, I am not asking people to be brutal with me, I'm just acknowledging that this 'tackling' has not gone amiss, and it's helped me to see me more clearly in the long run. It's not been comfortable, and it's not a journey that is over, but I can see the value of 'being real'. After all:
And so, life throws many curve balls at you. Until recently I felt utterly destroyed by my recent encephalitis (another story altogether) but perhaps I need to remember the journey I have taken over the last 8 years. Where I've come from and where I've come to and all the swerves I've had to take in between. But maybe that's life. Not screaming silently, but acknowledging the difficulties as well as the 'good' bits; not speaking lots but talking little. It's a lesson that Johanna taught me, but it's one that some of the most important people in my life have helped me to uphold. No, things are not perfect, but once you are real you can't become unreal: a 'speech' can be prepared and 'performed' but being able to talk is an invaluable skill that can help you tackle life.
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