The gift of hearing

Loving humans is a passion of mine. I am a connoisseur of people watching. Human interactions are fascinating. Every move we make tells a story. Each facial expression, every arm movement, the way we hold ourselves in different situations it all tells a story whether we want to be speaking or not. People watching is my favorite past time. It is why I am inappropriately obsessed with every insanely ridiculous and incredible Real Housewife from everywhere. Thank you, Andy Cohen and BRAVO (#sorrynotsorry). But real-life people-watching is SO much better, and I am ALWAYS binge-watching.

Taking people in and my loving of the human race is my greatest gift and my biggest obstacle. It has had a profound effect on my relationships, both good and bad. My fascination and amazement of humanity is something that I have been hiding for most of my life. I know it seems crazy. Why would anyone hide something so pure and phenomenal? When you love human nature, imagine what happens when you actually fall in love with specific people? I don't necessarily mean romantic love. I mean all forms of love. It means I am genuinely shocked when people let me down by acting exactly as I know they will. Finally, leaving my marriage allowed me the emotional freedom to go down a healthy path to understand what has been missing in my relationship with others and ultimately with myself.

How do I adequately describe this? I will put it this way. I was voted Most Sociable in my graduating class of over 700 kids. I am not bragging, just trying to paint a picture. At the time, I thought it was pretty epic. As I said, I do love humans. Talking and knowing everyone just made and makes sense to me. I had my core crew and my very best friend. (Hey, Lup!) But now? Boy, it speaks to how freaking insecure I was and am. As my therapist has been telling me for the last five years, "I give myself away too much." That superlative was a prime example of what I am trying to learn not to do anymore. But what the hell does he mean? I thought I was going to therapy to try to save my marriage. What I ended up getting was so much more. I was on the road to protecting myself.

As women, we are trained to put ourselves last. Women praise themselves and each other for how we care for others. Does she put her partner, children, family, and friends first? We judge what we do in and out of the home, bodies, children, and everything. Women think they are getting "time to themselves" if they get to poop or go to the market themselves. WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT? Could you imagine most men celebrating having five minutes to go to the bathroom alone? Ha!

My role in my family growing up taught me to take this idea to an extreme. My brother is the smart one. I got attention by making people laugh and being the person you could count on or handling a problem. Pair that with an obsession with humans and how they react to the world; you've got a recipe for disaster—a lot of attention and praise for being the person making everyone feel good at my own expense.

I had no idea my needs weren't getting met. Honestly, I was making others happy. People wanted me around. I knew everyone, and everyone knew me. That made me feel good. I was delighted, but I was invisible. What I wanted for myself was buried. I was the image of what others wanted me to be. I thought that was right. Sound familiar?

I met my soon-to-be ex-husband. I was the perfect mess for him and vice versa. The crazy man that couldn't be tamed. People wanted to be near him, too, for different reasons. They wanted to be there for the adventure. To see what he would do next. I saw the sweet mush inside that wild guy. He opened his big and broken heart to me. He was emotionally empty, and I could fill him. I mean, it was a people loving dream come true. When you're in your mid-twenties, this equation isn't that dangerous. I knew that big, scared heart better and more than anyone else. I tamed the untamable. It became what defined me. Eighteen years, two children, homes, work, sick and lost parents, and all the things in between that life throws at you. This equation doesn't add up. It blows up.

I was not in our story. I was also not asking my husband to be an active participant in our marriage. I didn't know I had to. It turns out the better word for marriage is a partnership—mind-blowing. I know changing how you look at something, swapping one little word can make all the difference.

It crept up on me. Asking for small tasks like putting socks in the hamper made him so angry. I am a stay-at-home mom. What's the big deal? I mean, I got to have lunch with my mom-friends. He was at work. I can pick them up. It is okay that I go to all the kids' events at school and games alone. He is tired. He goes to work. We don't need to have a grown-up night out because he wants to relax. I mean, this was the deal I made. Right? He went to work. I did everything else. We even bragged about it, calling me the CFO. Chief Family Officer. Should I complain? Everyone has problems. But wasn't what I was doing ALL day and ALL night work? You can't log off from parenting and home life. Or could you?

It felt like I was nowhere in that life. That idea of partnership was not non-existent. My entire reason for being was to care for him and them—a pervasive feeling in all my relationships. If I spoke up about what I was feeling, I was told I was a lot. If I happened to say out loud what I was observing with my unscrupulous people watching ways, I was too much. These comments stopped me in my tracks. If I didn't want or like something and met with opposition, I would quickly retract the statement or request. Jump right back into pleasing mode. Make myself scarce. I was scared to ask for what I needed, no matter how big or small. What if he stops loving me? What if she is mad at me? What if they talk about me?

I don't think this tale is unusual. I hear it all the time. Not just with friends. I see it in MEMES and GIFs, women's magazines, and talk shows. How many times do we yell, "What language do you people hear me speaking when I talk?" "How many times do I need to ask _____?" "Why can't he just _____?" "Do you think she is upset with me?" "Why can't they just once say okay to a request without me losing my mind?" We have all asked some version of these questions. Haven't we?

Then it happens. You encounter that friend or partner that doesn't just listen to you. They HEAR you. It is like you come up for air. For me, it is my very best friend, Dorie. (Insert Grey's Anatomy line "You are my person" here) This friendship fills my lungs, and I can breathe —a spectacular gift.

Hearing someone does not mean having the answers. It means allowing the other person that safe place to work out their crap. It can look like saying all the things out loud that you no longer need to chew on them in your head. Letting it out to someone means you don't have to let those thoughts weigh you down. The person that hears you laughs with you until you both pee—just a little. The person who hears you gets mad and sad with and for you when you can't or won't. When you are genuinely heard, it means that you can get it wrong, and they will help you learn from it. You can get the support you need to be brave enough to be the best version of yourself. However, that looks to you without being afraid of other's opinions. You feel valued. That is what love should look like, BEING VALUED.

When I realized what I wanted love to look like, I started speaking to be heard in all my relationships. It has ended some. Sadly. It has more than strengthened the connections that count. Telling my truth has even invited a new relationship with deeper intimacy. I am becoming more powerful while deepening my love by getting to know me, as I have always wanted to be out loud. I am a better mom, friend, daughter, sister, and partner when I start getting honest with myself. I do feel scared more than I ever have. It turns out that's okay. Feeling nervous or uneasy, some of the time, means you are doing life right.

Here is the thing, being heard shouldn't be saved for your most intimate relationships. It should be a requirement for all interactions. It would mean that you may not always get your way or like what you hear. You may not even agree all the time. Hearing others does mean needing to give space for the other's views. Isn't that why people are protesting in the streets? People of color want to be HEARD! LGTBQ people want to be HEARD. Women want to be HEARD. They are right to be mad. I am mad. People are demanding for a moment that others look through their lens. To have their history and experience mean something. TO BE HEARD. In listening to voices other than your own comes, learning, change, and strength. No one is claiming to have all the answers. People want the opportunity to be seen and heard.

When as a nation, we tell people their stories are exaggerated. When we call people menacing, threatening, aggressive, cold, and angry or too much because what they are saying doesn't sit well, we are taking away their experience. That keeps people down. It makes people angry. It should! Being invisible is painful and lonely and confusing and infuriating.

There could be joy and peace and prosperity if we all took the time to hear one another. We should allow for more than one vantage point. Could you imagine if we gave credence to other's experiences without defensiveness or anger? The stories that would come. The healing there would be—the innovation we could see. The love and beauty we would all experience and share if we just took the time to let everyone be HEARD. What is the damage that could come of that? There is none. There is beauty that births communication, discovery, growth, and love.