nat's rant book

hearing is different than listening

but hearing and listening, aren't they the same?

no.

as you walk down a busy street, you hear the cars fly by. you hear the music playing from the restaurant on the corner. you hear the nonsense babble from the group waiting to cross the street.

but are you listening for those things? no. do you know the song playing from the restaurant? do you know what the people at the crosswalk are talking about? unless you actually listen, the answer is no.

now for a different deeper example. you're sitting at lunch chatting with an acquaintance. you may have once considered that person a friend, but with the way your head has changed and the way you see the world, the person in front of you is no longer a friend, but an acquaintance.

they're going on about that one guy they they've been talking to for a while, but you wouldn't exactly know because you aren't listening, you're hearing. and it's the same thing when you bubble up in excitement, spilling over the edge and going on and on about how much you actually don't hate AP English Language and Composition class. You're past friend isn't listening. as they sit there taking bite after bite of sandwich, they are hearing you. nothing more.

and that's how it's been all of your life.

(if you haven't noticed I-the author am the "your" in all of the metaphorical bullshit)

but dad, he's different. He listens. listens with an open ear but not an open mind. he's constantly pointing out every flaw and every wrong I've committed while I'm going on about the things I've never had the chance to share with anyone else.

but then there's this person. and he happens to be my best friends uncle.
(odd the people who come into your life and totally flip it around, isn't it?)

and. he. listens.

now he's young, but I would never look for anything more than an adult-child friendship (obviously)

I've never had someone actually care or seem to care about what I am speaking about without pointing out my every wrong or turning the conversation on themselves.

and it feels wrong.

all my life leading up to this point I've been told to "stop talking" or to "shut my goddamn mouth" or the casual walk-away-from-the-conversation that my mother loves to do. like I'm not ever talking about something important. I'm so used to being looked over that being listened to feels wrong.

I've learned to feel like I don't deserve to be listened to. and sadly enough that lesson will always be implanted in my brain. if you ever meet me, I'm a mess full of "sorry's" and "I'm talking too much about myself, go ahead." even though I may have said but two words about myself.

it's all I've known.

and realizing that there are people who listen (or at least a person) has flipped the way I view the world. I was still apologize when I talk too much. I will still quickly fade away from a topic I am very interested in due to the fact others may not want to hear it.

but he asks me questions I think I don't know the answer to, but I do. it'll spill from my mouth like word vomit and even when i apologize, he'll tell me to stop. that there's no need. and he'll continue to ask me questions because he's interested in the way I think and the way I speak.

a little snippet of our recent conversation goes something along the lines of this. (this will get deep and shine a light to happenings in my life I didn't know I even had tucked away)

J- "what's your happiest childhood memory?"

Me- *thinks for a while* "I have many, I can't put a finger on just one."

J- "Memories that are happy or memories that you made happy?"

Me- "Both, I guess it's who I am. I try to make tolerable situations happier."

J- "Tolerable? What have you had to tolerate?"

Me- "As a very young child, I would hate visiting my dad. hate it so much I would cry every time I would arrive at his house. I cried up until I walked into the door, because even from a young age, I knew it wouldn't do any good to cry forever, so I sucked it up and I slapped on a smile. I tolerated his house. Til this day I still tolerate his house. I have never been happy there other than the times I've made myself and my surroundings feel happy."

and J would reply with a response just as long as mine, telling me his opinion without pointing out every flaw. he tells me he's sorry I've had to live that way and that it really speaks a lot for my character that I make my surroundings happy.

and he means his sorry, something I haven't genuinely heard from anyone- ever.

of course he has nothing to be sorry for, it isn't his fault. but it still means a lot.

if you read all of this, thank you for listening. I know it's a lot, but I'm just so SO tired of being nothing but heard.

"I don't want to be heard, I want to be listened to."

ps- another small convo that was silly, but made a large impact.

Me(with a friend, her brother, the best friend, and her uncle, J)- Yes! let's play two truths and one lie. *this was said in a joking manner, as I felt no one would care to listen*

laughter filled the small space between us all in the car, along with my own.

Me- "nah I'm not good at that game anyway, I'm not interesting at all."

J- "There's the lie."