Can we talk?
A conversation is an exchange. Of time. Of energy. Of emotions.
There are two kinds of conversations in my life - one that I have with the people I live with, and the other with those that are far away from me. While the former kind largely involves every day concerns of co-existence, the latter is made up of “catching -up” on small and big events, milestones and thresholds. The common thing that shows up in both kinds of conversations is the part where we talk about “others”. Others are people who are not involved in the act of talking, i.e. they are folks that are not in the conversation.
Over time, I have come to realize that I do not talk about others unless asked about them or unless I have a concern. But I am surrounded by people who talk about others as if they get paid to do so. I would have taken up this assignment but after a lot of trial and error, research and recce, I have concluded that talking about others doesn’t give me anything. It only takes away from me. So I often find myself getting irritated when someone wants to rant. As they talk and talk, I tune out, thinking about all the things I could have done. Sometimes, I do them too. I put the phone on speaker and park the person on a bench, a chair, a table and sometimes the kitchen counter and continue doing the thing I’d rather do. Their voice becomes a passive presence, and I pick up only what’s necessary to see the bigger picture. Sometimes, I book tickets, browse Instagram, reply to texts and delete old pictures. Most of the time, talking about others doesn’t require my complete intellectual involvement; I am in fact listening about others. And that can be done while I accomplish other things.
I wasn’t always like this. I was the person who would get down and deep into the murky waters of other people’s concerns. A nice person has to do that. And I was a nice person. I had to show up for friends, family and colleagues. They had, after all, chosen me to be their confidante. What an honour! But after every conversation, they would walk away feeling lighter while I would take on their uncomfortable feelings. I would cry for no reason, stay gloomy, lose interest in my own life and have no motivation to do the things that needed to be done.
I would identify with the problems of others and make them my own. All in the name of being a nice person. A dependable person. A caring person. And slowly, it began to weigh on me. As life’s challenges got more and more intense, I would find an escape in talks about the “others”. Why worry about your own problems when you can worry about problems you don’t have to solve?!
Sadly, this couldn’t go on for too long. I needed to look inwards. And when I did, I saw a whole battlefield of neglect waiting for me. My first reaction was to blame all the people who depended on me emotionally and took me away from myself. Then, with a lot of inner work, I learnt that no one had taken me away from myself. I had willingly given my precious time and energy to others, through conversations. I could have said no. I could have not listened. I could have focused on myself.
But how would I be a nice person then? I wouldn’t. Focusing on myself made me feel like a selfish person. I wasn’t this person! I was so open, so friendly, always there for others. It was hard to not be someone I had come to identify with. But my life, my crumbling circumstances were aching for my attention and intervention. I needed to be a nice person to ME.
The moment I made this decision, something began to shift. Even without meaning to, I began to miss people’s calls. If I called them back, they would be unavailable. I suddenly had a lot of extra time on my hands. I began to spend time with myself. I began to talk to me. I began to notice the voices in my head. I met parts of me I never knew existed. I also started to make a greater effort to meet people in person. I began to remember things. Conversations still took place. But they were shorter. And to the point. Talking about others became less and less. And I felt less affected by them.
Of course, it hurt my relationships. People thought I was abandoning them. I also felt guilty. But I was fighting for my survival. I had discovered the sweet nectar of my own energy, unfazed by that of others. I wanted to experience more and more of it. And I wanted to nurture it. As I did that, I felt like giving, truly giving myself to my relationships. But not like I did earlier. This time, I wanted to offer myself on my terms and in a way that made each conversation and interaction meaningful, enriching and fulfilling, rather than draining, draining and more draining.
It also led to some difficult conversations where I was asked to explain this “behaviour” where I was telling people what time and date I would be available for calls and for how long the call would be and what topics and people would be off limits. They asked me if I was some very important person. Yes. I am. And all this planning and strategizing for a conversation is totally worth it.
Here’s what I have learnt - we don’t need to talk to so much. We don’t need to talk to a lot of people. A conversation is a privilege. It is an opportunity for something to transform within us in the presence of another. We can be intentional about it when we choose to engage in it. And when it is that, it becomes a positive experience for everyone involved. We don’t need to talk about “others”. There is enough and more to talk about ourselves.
There are conversations. And then there are Parool conversations!
Loved this post, Parool. So true what you say about conversations being a privilege.