I know it's all in my head and I psyche myself out, because I love talking to people and getting to know their stories. But man, I have a hard time with not sounding like a robot when I know someone important is on the other end of the line.
I go into every conversation thinking, okay, you can do this. After they finish a thought, ask deeper questions based off what they said. Then, when it comes to the actual interview, they say something and my response instead becomes, "Okay, thank you!" (moves onto next question). It's very frustrating, actually. I know I'm fully capable of conversing. So, what was it then?
I realized something. I'm good at listening but am I always genuinely listening? Do I listen for when a person's tone of voice shifts in excitement, sadness or fear? Do I truly listen or do I just hear?
This weekend I visited home and I got the opportunity to ask my mom a lot of questions about her childhood. The best part? It wasn't intentional.
We were driving back from spending some time with my brother and had about an hour drive to my house. I forgot what I asked exactly, but it was something along the lines of, "Where did you live when you were in Pharmacy school?" Somehow that ONE question led to an hour conversation where I discovered things about my mom that I never knew before. And I'm a 20-year-old.
I found out that my mom has lived in 10 different places in her lifetime, one of them being a different state for a few years; I had no idea. As my mom revisited her past verbally, I sat there and listened. I listened as she told me memories of her and my dad meeting and falling in love. She laughed as she reminisced of lying to her mom about going to a Cardinal's game with my dad, but then having to turn on the radio in the car because they didn't even know the final score. I listened when her voice saddened and then I asked why times were hard then. She told me about a time when my dad had gotten back to his friend's apartment, and a note was on the door saying to get to a hospital. They shortly after found out that his friend's sister had died in a car wreck. At times I wouldn't say anything at all. I listened as she became nostalgic. My favorite thing was when she was trying to remember the timeline of events and was sorting them out verbally.
There was a time when I shut up completely. During that time, my mom shared some of her fondest, and most intimate memories with me.
I went home and wrote out all of the things she had told me so I wouldn't forget them.
Yeah, sometimes silence is painful. But other times, it's what needs to happen for the beautiful things to take place.
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