“Don’t you ever stop talking?”
Well, no. I mean there are times when I hear myself talking and talking and talking and start to notice certain subtle things. Like people feigning a heart attack or calling the ambulance, pretending to have lost their phone or forgotten their wallet in the car. I’ve never really considered those occurrences to be directly attributable to the speed, duration or proliferation of words out of my mouth. And sometimes even after the person has left, I send them a text… or three.
I understand that most people prefer to text these days. Personally I hate texting or being forced to check my phone for text messages. I also hate when people stop talking and bow their heads to worship at the altar of iPhone or Droid, texting, sexting.. who knows? *shrug*. I’m pretty sure my doctor faked a text to end the conversation with me the other night. I mean, who wouldn’t be compelled by the topic of pink eye?
I used to talk exclusively to my dog Diego. Over time I noticed that his ears stopped perking up when I spoke to him. Later he developed this interesting habit of laying down with his head away from mine to avoid eye contact. Imagine my sorrow the day I understood that his behavior was anything but random. The little shit was evading conversation! How rude!
Prior to Diego I have talked to horses and sheep, rabbits and boys who pretended to listen because well… you know how that goes when you are dating. A man will listen to anything if he thinks it will result in sex. The tenacity of the male sex drive was never a match for the tenacity of my need to talk and talk and talk and… well, talk.
“If you are going to continue being in a relationship with me you are going to have to learn how to fake your attentive listening better,” said singleton moi a lifetime ago. And when I found someone who actually DID listen (and I tested him frequently with post-conversatonal trivia to see if I could disprove his attention to detail) I married him. I mean a man that actually listens is hard to find. And one that listens and cooks dinner… is a flipping unicorn right? Damned skippy. And for the record he prefers to talk “afterward” which is frankly more time effective.
Sometimes I stutter.
I went to speech language pathology for years and worked on my lissssssssshp … lisp. And the stuttering which only happens when my brain is processing faster than my mouth can pronounce. And why do I feel the need to share everything? I don’t know. Why do I love talking to others? I have no clue. Why do I hate a quiet room or silence in general (unless I am writing) … beats me. Sort of. Okay I am lying.
The inner child in me wants to be liked desperately. She is never able to acknowledge the things she does well, her accomplishments or any of her virtues. She can with 100% clarity and word weaponry however, identify her flaws. Hell she can even make up flaws she does not personally possess because self-effacing inner dialogue can’t process positive or complimentary. She cannot acknowledge her wins with authenticity nor can she hear or accept the compliments of others. She can’t really trust them. Compliments and kindnesses are often used as an “in” by people who excel at taking advantage of others.
But because she is talking she is trying to pretend that silo doesn’t exist. Perhaps if she keeps talking you’ll say something that convinces her that you really see her and understand her. It appears to be attention seeking because it is. Wise people recognize this as a need for validation or approval. Someone who does not embrace her own exceptionality looks for evidence of it from others. It’s disgustingly needy and she knows it; she still needs it like a drug she can’t kick.
Emotional ramparts are the most interesting thing she has ever encountered. So many bad things in such a short period of time. It changes a person and leaves swiss cheese like holes where peace and confidence should be. Self-valuation. Independence is a good thing but its a two headed dragon. It allows you to need nothing from anyone. It creates a person who forgets how to take anything from anyone. It edifies absolute self-reliance and alienates at the same time.
And when I talk and talk and talk and talk … and talk, you may think I am not listening to you. I am. I’ve heard everything you said, and watched your body language, your facial expressions and counted the times you looked at your phone or the clock because after all, how much talking can one person handle? I don’t blame you. I hate the sound of my voice too and I hate when the inner child prattles on and on…
It’s because I like you.
It’s because I want you to like me too.
It’s because your opinion matters to me.
It’s because all this new stuff has the old me feeling shaken.
It’s because I am trying to find my own personal sense of level and security.
It’s because I have massive, pathetic, irrational, unhealing, gaping holes in my heart.
When I started writing this blog post I thought I’d be clever and keep it very very short. Sort of a sarcastic juxtaposition to the title of the post. But then I started thinking and thinking, and writing and writing which is really the same as talking… and talking… and, well talking.
I know I talk too much and I am open to learning how to talk less. Sometimes (rarely though) in response to mockery or gentle teasing, I stop talking altogether and the world comes screeching to a halt.
And then you ask me why I am not talking and I scream a little in my head… and start talk talk talking…