I care about you deeply. You are important
to me because you are a good person, underneath it all. Underneath the needless
apologies and automatic defenses; behind the walls you’ve erected to protect
yourself from the people around you, you have a heart of gold and all you
really want to do is help people. I resonate with that.
All
I’ve ever wanted to do—short of being an artist—is help people. Part of the
reason for me to get a Bachelor’s degree in Psychology is because I want to
help people; what better degree to pursue for such an endeavor? Naturally, I
want to help you. The thing is, I’m not even sure you realize you’re damaged;
or, perhaps you do, but you don’t know how to accept constructive criticism
from another person because all you’ve experienced have been negative people
who have nothing nice to say.
You’re
not trying to be mean. I can accept that and appreciate it. What I think you
don’t realize is how you sound to those around you even when you think you’re
being “just fine”. Your voice is so sharp—as sharp as the nose on your face, as
sharp as your very chin, so is your voice—and when something comes unbidden
from your mouth in an environment you don’t prefer while you’re surrounded by
generally undesirable people, your voice is sharp.
Tone
of voice means a lot in communication, my dear friend. The very sound of your
voice when you say something—your inflections, as in, the way your voice rises
and falls during speech—including the speed with which you talk and the words
that come out of your mouth are all parts of the communication process. I don’t
think very many people think of communication as a process; I think people think it consists only of what is said, rather than how.
It
is clear to me that you pay attention to what
you say, friend. Many people do, when communicating. What I’m not sure you know
is the meaning of your words. I’m not sure you know the true message you send
with your body language, the words you actually say, and the tone of your voice.
It’s
different with me. When you’re with me, your tone is softer. But even when you’re
with me, you’re so defensive of yourself, like you think your defenses must be
up at all times and like you believe that the best defense is a good offense. God
forbid you should ever offend anyone, though, so you preface many of the things
you say—things that are hardly ever offensive by any nature—with “No offense.”
None offense is taken and I feel like there is a larger underlying issue with
you that perhaps you don’t recognize, where you feel the need to disclaim
yourself before saying anything.
Anything
I say is met with, “No, I know, but—” something. Do you realize that you always
say “No,” first? The first word out of your mouth when we are speaking is “No,”
when I have something to say that isn’t a general nod, “mm-hmm,” or silence in
listening. I might tell you that, while I understand your point of view, I
think differently about the situation. The first word out of your mouth is, “No,”
but I don’t think you even hear yourself say it. You hear yourself say the
following “I know,” before you continue with your point and your endeavor to
make me understand what you’re saying—which I do, dear friend. I do.
I
want to help you, friend. I want to help all of my friends, but I think the
struggle for you is internal. Perhaps it is something only you can work on
yourself and I am so glad that your goal for the year—if not beyond—is to help
yourself. My hope for you, dear friend, is that you are also sincerely
interested in personal growth. Perhaps there is something subconsciously that
makes you speak the way you do or even act a certain way.
I
want you to remember that I love you. No matter how hard it gets for you, my
love for you as a friend remains. Remember, too, that when everything is a
joke, nothing is, and there is always truth in jest. I recognize your jokes as
a method by which you wish to be understood and communicate your true thoughts
to the outside world, but you’re so afraid of ridicule or backlash that it
cannot be said in sincerity. Or, so you think.
Where
is your fear founded? What kind of terrible past have you endured to make you
feel so insecure? Secure people speak sincerely and unapologetically, my
friend, and you do not fit the bill except when you’re with me. Perhaps it is
my sincerity that helps you to relax every so often and if that is the case, I
want to move with it. I want to spend more time with you to help you feel
sincerity and know it for yourself. I want to wrap you in security and make you
realize that it’s okay to have your thoughts, your feelings, your opinions, and
it’s okay to share them, but there is a time and a place for everything and
there is always a good way to communicate a thought, even if there is no good
way it can be received. Fear not, my friend, for I feel that most of what you
could say would be received without judgment.
I fear that your religion gets in
the way. Perhaps it is what keeps you going and helps you see the light in
life. Who am I to judge your feelings? Better that you tell them to me, in due
time, as you will. Just remember, my friend: I love you.
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