Sometimes I get sick of hearing myself talking. Especially when the person that wants to know what’s on my mind…doesn’t really plan to do anything with the intel.
It takes a lot for me to work up the energy to tell people when something is really bothering me. Part of the delay is me evaluating things in my own head. Are my feelings justified? Am I being fair? Have I considered all the factors? Do I have a blind spot on the matter? The other delay is a general aversion to conflict with people I genuinely care about along with the fatalistic belief/fear that when you ask people to rise to the occasion for you…they will say, “no.”
Lately I’ve been under a lot of personal stress - all manageable stuff, but cropped up at the same time, to make it more daunting. Most of what I’m battling I don’t divulge. I can’t find the desire to…talk. It feels like the talking I’ve been doing has been in vain. It keeps me going in circles that exhaust me. Evaluating. Analyzing. Rehashing. Reconsidering. Speculating. Pondering. Pontificating. And not even my stuff, either. I’m talking all of the things that get dropped in my plate like collection offerings in a church. I keep looking for someone to pass the bucket to, and somehow it keeps coming back around to me. If I barely can stand me repeating my own stupid dramas or silly mistakes or unnecessary challenges, then how am I to find the patience in my reserves to tolerate it from anyone else?
I’m just so completely exhausted of talking. And when I grow completely exhausted, it’s time to fade to black. Not for you. But for me. Sometimes it’s the truest act of loving kindness there is.
He who does not understand your silence will probably not understand your words.
- Elbert Hubbard