Balancing Genuine

One of the hardest things I find to balance is being genuine while also not over-sharing to the point of being annoying. This is my fear. 

I talk a lot about my anxiety and depression and struggles with same-sex attraction, or childhood trauma, struggles with church, or what have you. I talk about it on my blog. But I don’t talk a whole lot about it in person. People that see me and interact with me on a weekly basis at some point interact with me while I’m feeling anxious or triggered on some subject or another. But that fact usually goes unnoticed because I chat and I smile and things are normal. Inside my head they may not be but on the outside they’re normal. It’s not that I’m unwilling to talk about it, it just doesn’t usually feel like the right thing to say.

Sometimes I worry that when people find out after the fact that I did not feel on the inside what they were reading on my face, that this will alter the perception people have that I am genuine. That’s not my intention. I just know that my brain is overactive a lot of the time and while yes it feels more genuine to acknowledge that, 9 times out of 10 the setting doesn’t lend itself to that type of conversation and it’s not necessarily a conversation that needs to be had. And I fully acknowledge that what is going on inside my head is entirely my responsibility and it is nobody’s job to fix it but me. I don’t want talking about it to make people think that I need them to fix me. I also don’t want to be the negative Nancy that you tire of.

And it’s not like I’m incapable of other emotions while I’m also dealing with other things. For the most part what people read on my face is the emotion that’s the most relevant for the context I’m in whether there’s underlying things happening at the same time or not. And I think everyone can relate to that.. Or at least I’m pretty sure ;)

So how do I reconcile the two things? Being genuine and also not over sharing to the point that people are tired of all the negative… I don’t know. Sometimes it’s just acknowledging “I feel anxious today.” I’m not saying a whole conversation needs to be had, I’m just saying, this is me today. I come as I am. And then things can go the same way they would have gone had I not said anything. But I feel like I’m letting people in, and being genuine. 

Sometimes it’s saying “okay” when people ask “how are you?” because the answer is not “great” but I’m also not feeling “bad.” Although sometimes that question is tricky. “How are you?” can easily be a positive answer because I’m with YOU and therefore things are good. But “How have you been?” is usually the harder one to answer.

Sometimes, it’s writing a blog. Obviously I could choose to experience all the things and never talk about them. But I also remember how damaging it was when I felt like I couldn’t say anything. Writing lets me say what’s in my head without having to wait for the perfect context. But it serves multiple purposes. It helps me put things in words that I otherwise wouldn’t know how to talk about. It helps me let people in that I otherwise wouldn’t. It helps me process and deal with my emotions and thoughts. And I hope it makes things that aren’t talked about feel a little less taboo. And maybe it helps people know how to talk about some things too. It releases the lid from the bottle so I don’t explode. In some ways, writing is also to make me feel less alone. 

There’s not a perfect answer here. And I will likely keep struggling to find that balance and keep worrying that I’ve opened my mouth a little too wide and said a little too much. But I suppose the growth is in the struggle.

Let you love me

 Something I’ve been thinking about the last week is acts of service. Sort of? Can I say it’s a mix of acts of service and the love languages? I really enjoy knowing how people want to be loved. I want to be able to love them the way they want to be loved and not just how I find it easiest or most enjoyable to love others. Communication is really important to me, and part of that is that when I want to love on people, I don’t want to just love on them. I want them to feel that love. 

But sometimes that can be hard because people don’t want to burden you and therefore it can be difficult to get them to tell you what they need/want. And I totally get it. I am often like that. 

Realistically I’m usually fairly easy (in my opinion lol). I value communication. I like when people respond when I text/email/call/video chat/etc. And I like one on one time, to talk. That is the best gift. I suppose more than that, I like when I feel like I can be myself. When people are willing to talk about hard things and not just kids and the weather. When the hard subjects aren’t just subtly skirted and ignored, I feel more able to be myself. I like when people give me the same trust and are open about themselves with me too. Give and take.

But that's an aside. Recently I’ve had the chance to serve people. In really basic and easy ways. But it was apparent that it was something that made them feel loved. And that makes it all the more enjoyable. Because all I want is to make sure that my actions, whatever they may be, are ones that lead them to an inkling of how much they are loved. 

But the only way that happened is because they were willing and trusted me enough to give me an idea of what they needed. And they were willing to let me do it. And I have appreciated that so much. I feel loved by the sheer fact that they are communicating their needs with me, and trusting me to help. Communication and trust. 

But it also has made me realize that I am not good at letting people serve me. And maybe that’s because that’s not usually how I look for or expect love. But by the same token, sometimes we need to let people love us how they like to love even if it’s not the way we prefer to be loved. And that is something we can do to help them feel loved, and feel good about communicating their love to us. 

Because it seems only fair that I be willing to open myself up to people in ways that allow them to feel like they can communicate their love and appreciation for me. Because I have so enjoyed having the chance to feel like my love and appreciation for others is being felt and heard. And I can love others by letting them feel that way too.

That’s perhaps easier said than done. But perhaps if I have it in mind, it will be easier to do.

Sleeping on the Couch

Ever heard the phrase, “healing is not linear”?

I’ve never read that phrase at a time when I really felt like I needed to hear it. But the phrase has stuck with me so it’s been there when I needed it. If that makes sense. 

When my husband and I first got married I was pretty sure I was fine. My history with being sexually abused had no grasp on my intimate life. I was confident it didn’t. Until it did. I found myself often having flashbacks to childhood during intimate moments. I figured it was fine, I could ignore it and eventually it would go away. Which worked… and by worked I mean it kept happening but I kept ignoring it. Until it stopped working. 

One night I was 100% triggered. And I sort of snapped. I felt totally broken. It was like starting back at square one all over again. I had to figure out how to deal with loving my husband while also having him be the one that had triggered my feeling that way. One of the things that first led me to him when we started dating was that he never made me feel unsafe. And suddenly I didn’t feel safe. And I didn’t know how to reconcile that. That’s not to say that he did something really wrong. I was just susceptible to something going wrong.  And I hadn’t learned how to communicate what was happening in a way that helped him love me how I needed to be loved when I was feeling susceptible to those vulnerable triggering moments. 

COMMUNICATION, people! If ever there was a soapbox I could stand on…

Anyway. I won’t go into details here but it took a very long time for me to move past that feeling. Part of what helped was setting up boundaries. I needed to feel like I wasn’t stuck. I needed choices. If that meant sleeping on the couch, that’s what it meant. Because I had too much anxiety being in the same bed with someone else. I couldn’t fall asleep terrified of being touched—purposefully or accidentally. I needed to have control over whether or not it was a possibility that I might be touched. I needed to feel like that was my choice. And that my body was my own. I slept on the couch a lot. And I know it was hard for him that what his wife needed most was to be left alone. But I am still forever grateful that I had that when I needed it.

Eventually, my husband started sleeping on our other couch. That was a nice next step. He must have been inspired whether he knew it or not. Because we could be in the same room but not the same proximity as being in the same bed. I still had my safe space. And that helped. And it helped build up that feeling of feeling safe again. He was respecting my need for space while also expressing his desire to be close to me. And I felt loved. Eventually we started dragging the mattress into the living room, and having cute sort of sleepovers in the living room. And we eventually started sleeping in the same bed again. And it helped not being in the same room as the room where I had been triggered. Again, he must have been inspired because that was not my idea but it was a great idea. Although I think it may have been inspired by a dating bucket list we had made once upon a time that included the idea of watching Saturday morning cartoons in your pjs and eating cereal. That was probably why we did it that first night. We just kept doing it lol.

During the day the mattress just hung out in our hallway cuz why take it all the way to the bedroom when it was just going to get dragged back out again later that night? Eventually we put the bed back in our bedroom. I admit it kinda made me sad. I enjoyed our living room sleepovers. They were pretty cute. And I was nervous about being back in the room where it had started. It was kind of hard but okay, but I was very grateful to say goodbye to the memories attached to that apartment when we moved.

And still it’s taken years since then for me to get to a place where I could tell him in a nice way when I needed my personal bubble to be a bit bigger that night. And I love him for respecting my bubble when I need one. And I love him for forgiving my faults and failings again and again. And while I’m in a good place right now in this regard, I won’t claim to be 100% healed, or that it will never be an issue again. 

Because healing isn’t linear. I think maybe I need to remind myself that it’s okay to apply that to other things like how I feel about church or God too. It’s okay for my progress to not be linear.

Beyond Belief

In some ways, listening to General Conference is hard. I have struggled the last few years to describe my testimony, or my faith. I believe in God. I believe in Christ. I believe in the prophets and the apostles. I believe in my church leaders. I believe. But do I have faith? Sometimes I think I do. Sometimes I think I don’t. Sometimes I have been so overrun with depression that I have felt so apathetic that I could not feel anything. I could not feel the spirit, I could not feel sadness, I could not feel joy. Sometimes, even though I don’t feel overrun by depression, I feel awash with the feeling that while I know God loves me, I fear it is not in the way that I want to be loved. 

Someone once asked me the question, “how do I know God loves me?” The answer to that feels simple and clear. The actual answer I gave is probably too long for this forum, so here is an excerpt from how I answered that question:

“If I believe in God then I know that He loves me enough to allow me agency.

If I believe I am a daughter of God, I must believe He loves me. Because I am His daughter, and God is perfect and a perfect father loves their children.

If I believe in Christ then I believe that God sent His son to die for me, which means that He loves me.

If I believe in the atonement of Christ then I must also believe that God wants me to return to Him, which means He loves me.

If I believe God wants me to love and serve my neighbor, it must be because He loves them. And if I am their neighbor then by the same token, He wants them to love and serve me, and that He loves me too.

If I believe in the afterlife as we do, then I believe that God wants me to grow and progress.

If I believe in repentance then I know that God is willing to love and forgive me despite the terrible things that I’ve done and the rest of my imperfections.

If I believe in prayer then I know that God listens to me.

If I believe in the Holy Ghost, then I know that He loves me because He has sent means through which I can receive confirmation of His truths for myself and not just follow blindly in all things.

If I believe in the Holy Ghost then I know that He loves me because He has given me the means by which I can receive comfort and feel Him.”

But notice that every answer I gave has the stipulation “If I believe.” Because I wasn’t 100% certain that I did believe. And it’s not because I don’t believe. Like I said, I do. But it is with some hesitancy that I haven’t been able to define. And today I finally feel like I can define the why for my hesitancy. This feels weird to admit outside my own brain, but sitting, watching General Conference today, the answer to that felt clear. Right now, while I believe in God… I do not love him.

Some of you aren’t even sure how that works. Or, I am clearly very ungrateful. How can I be aware of the many great and wonderful things about God and not love him? That’s a subject for another day so I won’t try to answer that right now. 

But it answers so many questions. Why do I feel like I believe but can’t have faith? Because I cannot fully trust, that which I do not love. At the end of her General Conference talk today, Michelle D. Craig said “When we love Jesus Christ, he gives us all in return.” And that was the moment I thought… I don’t love him. 

I think one of the reasons why I like to ask people about their testimonies of God and Jesus Christ are because I enjoy feeling uplifted and inspired by their love for Him. I also love getting to know people by learning about their passions. But it is also one of the most vulnerable questions I can ask people. Because, per normal social standard, their response is often to follow up by asking me to share my own testimony of faith and love. And admitting that I don’t feel the same feels more vulnerable than anything else, especially in that moment after hearing their confidence in faith. I feel inadequate and subpar and I want the attention off me. And the follow up often includes an attempt to fix me. And I do not feel fixable. But I love my friends, and I love the light in their eyes when they talk of what they love. So I’ll keep asking because I love supporting people in their faith. And I love seeing their love. 

I don’t have an answer right now. And I’m not looking for someone to solve it for me. But knowing what the problem is gives me hope for fixing it. And that will do for now.

By Any Other Name

A bit random, and perhaps an unpopular opinion, but I have never been very attached to my name. In some ways I have felt very unattached to my name even. I think in my late elementary/early middle school years I was infatuated with the idea of native cultures and having a name be given to you later in life that matched your personality, your achievements, your talents, whatever. I recognize that my parents chose a name that felt right to them, just as I have chosen names for my children that felt right. But at the same time, to me my name has always felt like it may as well be just a number. It’s a label by which I am called and says nothing about who I am. 

Honestly, I have always preferred nicknames. And it really doesn’t matter what they are so long as they are personal. Growing up most of my friends called me “Em” and that was always fine. I liked that. It’s not like it’s a far cry from my name, but it indicated a closeness and a relationship where they felt comfortable calling me something else and I liked that. It communicated something, it meant something. Whereas anyone can call me Emily, from the random cashier reading my name off my debit card, to my loving husband. It doesn’t mean anything.

My freshman year of high school I was called many things. And I won’t even attempt to relay them all. But the ones that I remember most were “Stalker” and “Skittles.” And I promise I never stalked anyone, that wasn’t the reason for the nickname. It was an inside joke, and stemmed from me being embarrassingly dorky… and it’s something I would have to show you, not tell you 😂😅 But I loved it, because it was personal. It meant something. It was ours. And honestly I’m pretty sure the name Skittles only stemmed from me eating skittles a few too many times or something. My point is only that I really don’t care what it is people call me as long as it comes from a place of love and means something. 

My husband and I call each other Spousen. I don’t remember when it started or how it came about. But I also love it. That’s not to say he never calls me Emily. He does. But he also calls me Spousen, and that’s the one that makes me smile.

My mother always intended for me to go by “Emily Jane.” And I remember when she told me that.. I was sort of like “Well I didn’t know that” lol. It always felt like the “yikes, I’m in trouble, the middle name has come out.” But I also remember really loving it. And I was glad she told me because that’s the name that feels like… mine. The name that means something. I enjoy the fact that I was named Emily because of the movie Saturday's Warrior. I enjoy the fact that I have some random semi-distant relative named Emily Jane although I wasn't officially named after her. But I love most that my mother had a plan. Not just to call me Emily, but that I would be Emily Jane. Something about the Jane makes it feel personalized. Mine. Every now and then I let people know that I prefer Emily Jane and that I really like when people call me that. And every now and then people do, but mostly it’s just one of those things. Too many syllables and people get lazy and find a way to shorten it. So I mostly don’t bother because it never gets used anyway. Maybe one of these days I’ll decide to officially switch to introducing myself that way to people from the get-go. And the percentage might go up. I totally acknowledge that it doesn't help that I don't introduce myself that way.

The ironic thing I suppose is that I have never been one to hand out nicknames for people. I tend to use their given name because that’s what I have, right? And then as I get to know them and love them, to me, their name begins to embody them, and everything I love about them. And so of course their name fits them, because, it just is.. it’s them, and it makes me think of them and what I love about them and it makes me smile. It feels personal to me. And I probably ought to remind myself that there are people who feel that way about me and my name too. 

But in the end, it's not the name that makes the person, it's the person that makes the name, regardless of what it is. Names have meaning because of the meaning that we give to them. Whether it's because of the person that gave the name, or the story behind the name, the feeling behind the name, what have you... To me, that also means that I have control over insults. Because they only have the meaning and power that I give them, that I allow them to have. 

In the end, a rose, or in this case, an Emily, by any other name... is still... just... me. Whoever, whatever that is, however I define myself to be.

What I Miss

I consider myself pretty comfortable in my own skin. I’m not ashamed of my body even if there are things I would change if I could. I’m happy with who I am even if I’m not perfect. I’m mostly happy at church even if I have my doubts and frustrations. I’m very comfortable answering questions about my childhood, addiction recovery, intimacy, my same sex attraction, my doubts in the church.. whatever it may be.

But ever since I revealed my same-sex attraction I have felt a pressure to be extremely clear in my interactions with other women so there is no opportunity for misunderstandings regarding my intentions. I had to completely rewrite my list of boundaries with people. And sometimes I miss the old me. I created a blanket rule that I wouldn’t touch people anymore. In some ways I needed that. I certainly follow that with men so as not to give the wrong impression. But with women, I’m still seeking connection and not just lack of miscommunication. Which makes everything more complicated.

By nature I’m a very physical person. I like hugs. I could do long tight hugs with people every time I see them even if it was yesterday. I like the gentle tap of the shoulder or knee in the midst of conversation. Something about even those subtle innocuous moments makes me feel loved and accepted because to me it communicates a closeness and permission to be in their space. I like to give back scratches, or play with people's hair; I like to give massages to my friends and used to give them almost daily. The last year or so I have finally felt like maybe I could sort of try being a little more that way again. And I’ve tried to give myself permission for the occasional tap of the shoulder, hug, whatever. 

But the transition to this fills me with a lot of anxiety. Every tap of the shoulder, touch of the arm, every compliment (and I love to compliment too) comes only after I have had a conversation with myself as to whether or not I think I can do it without sending the wrong message. Whether or not it could make them think the wrong thing or make them uncomfortable. And sometimes I worry afterwards that I read the moment wrong. And I’m tired of thinking about my every move, though I recognize much of it exists only in my head.

Understand that even before people knew, I have never once taken advantage of a friend’s trust. I have never once touched someone with an intimate motive without their awareness and consent. And I certainly don’t ever plan on doing so. And even with this attempt to adjust my boundaries, I am very careful to monitor my own feelings so that if there is any chance that allowing that looser boundary will lead to temptation, I don’t. I keep to the old boundary unless I am positive it will not lead to anything. 

I just miss feeling free to express myself and interact with people the way I used to without feeling anxious about it… without constantly feeling like I’m a possible discomfort in people’s lives. I needed boundaries. Boundaries are good. But also... while boundaries should be in line with your values, they should also be in line with who you are.

I’ve been assured by people before that people shouldn’t be misreading my intentions because I’m clearly married and clearly not looking for a relationship. But geez if the awkward situation that happened with my affair-seeking-neighbor this year taught me anything… it’s to never assume that people think being married means you don’t have other intentions. So I remain in the middle, trying to walk a line between being myself, and trying to keep my intentions clear. And I hope one day it will come to me more easily again. I’m just tired.

Rose Colored Words

As a youth we had a regional church leader that was a very happy and outgoing man. Every time he saw me I remember he would ask "How are you doing?" and I would answer something like "Good," or "Fine," and his response was always "Good!? Not great?" or "Fine? Not amazing?" Something along those lines. To some extent there was something rote about it. But at the same time, it was better than the typical response of not questioning or investigating why the person didn't say they were better than good/fine. If I was actually better than fine then I could respond "You're right, I am great!" And if I wasn't, I could shrug my shoulders and say, "Maybe another day." It prompted a more genuine response even if I didn’t really want to talk about it. And he genuinely cared. And it was one of the first lessons I got in being genuine with my responses. And that words matter. 

As a young adult I had a friend who was one of the most insightful regarding my emotions. They could tell when something was wrong sometimes before I had come to admit it myself. I learned not to filter my responses with words like "Fine" with them because there was guaranteed to be a follow up question like "Why just fine?" or "What does fine mean?" or a straight up "What's wrong?" And we had a policy of answering any question honestly and genuinely. No dodging or filtering allowed. So I knew I'd have to answer the question anyway. 

I won't claim that that was a perfect or ideal policy necessarily. But it taught me the value of being genuine and authentic with my responses because I value when people are genuine and authentic with me, and when I can be that with someone else.

More than anything, I value honesty and communication. I like when people update me when a plan changes. I like when people communicate their boundaries to me instead of waiting until I’ve crossed one a few too many times. I like when people take the time to send a text or an email that is longer than a few words. I like having conversations with people. I like when people take the time to have those conversations with me. That makes me feel loved and wanted. I like when people are willing to ask me questions instead of dancing around or ignoring a subject. I like when people feel comfortable sharing things about themselves with me. I feel loved when people are willing to share their sad and not just their happy and let me see beyond the rose-colored version of their lives they freely portray to others.

I also think that when people are genuine, we’re better off mental-health-wise. Imagine a world where people freely portrayed more than just the nice sweet happy moments. Where people said “not amazing” instead of “fine” when asked “how are you doing?” Imagine feeling less awful about not feeling happy, because you knew and understood that you were not alone in that feeling—that it was normal to be less than perfectly happy all the time. I know that feeling alone and abnormal in my sadness has certainly never helped me. Imagine a world where the world felt more rosy, simply because we took off the glasses forcing people to pretend it was.  

Unabashedly Genuine

 Last winter I had some serious mental health issues which I didn’t recognize at the time. And it put me in a dark headspace that affected my testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ. And I haven’t been able to shake the feelings that resulted. 

I have had several gospel related conversations since then with multiple people. And sure, sometimes I hope that this new person will have something magical to say that will make my doubts or feelings go away. But in reality I know that’s not happening. And often people have the impulse to try to “fix” me, and give advice, or provide the perfect answer. And I 100% understand because I know I’ve done it before. And I 100% understand that it’s coming from a place of love and concern, and I 100% appreciate that. And I’m not trying to fault anyone for trying, because we’re all just doing our best out here. And I appreciate the love.

But I have also come to understand that that moment is dependent on me and my feelings and my own relationship with the Holy Ghost. And the work I’m willing to put in to getting there. And I haven’t felt willing/able to do much of that… and so not much has changed. I’m sitting with my feelings. And for now that’s okay.

But what I have also come to realize are the moments that I love the most. There are two. First, the moments when people have allowed me to express my doubts and just let them exist. No attempt to sway my opinion or change me or give advice or anything… just let me be and let me exist as I am. Again, I 100% understand the impulse to be a “fixer” because that is totally ME! But I have also learned that it is also okay to sit with our feelings for a while. And ignoring them doesn’t really help.

Now, the second moment I’ve experienced is my favorite. I love the moments when people are able/willing to share with me their testimony genuinely. Regardless of what doubts I have expressed, regardless of the frustrations I have voiced. One moment sticks out to me. I don’t remember what I said anymore. But this friend replied quite simply, something along the lines of “The Holy Ghost has never indicated that to me. That doesn’t change how I feel.” It wasn’t really in what she said, but how she said it that stuck out. But her testimony was unshaken by the feelings I had shared. And I love that. I have no desire in my doubts to shake anyone else’s testimony. I have no desire to change anyone else’s faith or understanding or confidence. 

The moments I love most in friendship are feeling like you are 100% free to be yourself, whether that is happy or sad, normal or weird, gay or straight, guilty or innocent, faithful or doubtful, perfect or imperfect, broken or whole, confident or anxious. I love the moments of being vulnerable and yet feeling safe. And when my friends share their testimony with me, in the spirit of being wholly themselves, I feel loved, and honored to be allowed to share in that genuine expression of themselves. Even when I don’t feel the same. And I have felt that same sense of honor when people have shared with me their doubts. Because again, they were sharing a genuine part of themselves with me. And I am honored to be allowed to share in that too.

But I will say that I can tell when someone is sharing their testimony with me because they want to convince me that my doubts are wrong. Versus when they are sharing their testimony with me because it is something they love. Although to be fair, at my grumpiest, I may be more inclined to perceive someone’s actions with a motive, even if that is not their intention. Which isn’t fair of me, and I recognize that. And I apologize if I have done that.

Regardless, this, I think is at the heart of missionary work. I have never felt impressed to convince anyone my religion is better than theirs or that they should join my church. And I don’t think I ever will. Because I don’t think it’s effective. What I would hope for instead, is the ability to be unabashedly me. And share the things I love with people around me because I am being wholly me. And I hope they can be wholly themselves too. “Sharing the gospel” doesn’t mean trying to convince people they’re wrong. To me, it means being unabashedly you. And if you are someone who loves Jesus, that will be part of the “you” that shines through. No hiding it. No preaching necessary. And if that is something that sticks out to them, and they feel impressed to act on, okay. And if it’s not, that is also okay. And neither choice affect my opinion of that person, or our friendship. And I hope they feel free to share with me the things that they love, even if I choose not to change to match their beliefs either.

Be unabashedly you. I am honored to be given the opportunity to see “you” and I hope I can be “me” too.

Also, let’s not judge me for the number of times I used “100%” in this post 😝 

Don’t Know What to Say

What do you say when you don’t know what to say? I’m not going to claim to be an expert here. I’ve certainly had my fair share of moments sitting in awkward silence because I didn’t know what to say. But of course there’s also different contexts for not knowing what to say. Do you not know what to say because small talk is awkward and you don’t know them very well and you’re just not sure what to say? Or you’d really rather ask something else but it may be considered personal or awkward and you don’t feel comfortable asking? Well, I relate to those. Or do you not know what to say because they just shared something personal or vulnerable or awkward etc, and you really just don’t know what to say in response. 

Learning people’s boundaries is hard. Learning their hopes and expectations is sometimes harder. Do they want you to ask a follow up question? Do they want you to provide advice? Do they want you to nod appreciatively? Do they want you to  just listen? Do they want a hug? Do they want a well timed joke, comical relief, or a change of subject? Do they want you to share a story of a similar nature where you explain why you understand how they feel because of your own experiences? Or would they rather you acknowledge that you really don’t understand at all. 

Well, there’s clearly a lot that could be said here so I’ll focus on the first thing that comes to mind: reflective listening. This is a technique frequently used by social workers and therapists. Reflective listening is actually really easy. Basically all you do is repeat back to them what they said but in your own words. Let me emphasize the “in your own words” part 😉 This is one of the reasons people enjoy going to see a therapist. It’s not really because the therapist is wise and understands you better than anyone else and can fix all your problems. They might not understand. And they might not know how to fix any of your problems. But by listening to you, doing their best to understand what you are trying to say, and then reframing it, you are given the chance to better clarify what you said if their “reflection” or “mirror” of what you said wasn’t quite what you meant. In the process of course, this can also help you dive deeper into the subject and flush out things perhaps you hadn’t considered on a conscious level. Perhaps more importantly, when someone repeats back to you what you said, you FEEL understood, and you FEEL validated. And that’s a pretty important part of therapy, am I right?

Let’s take a look at what that might look like… how about we try responding to this statement

“Coming out as gay was nerve wracking and vulnerable, but lifted a weight from my shoulders”

Okay. Maybe I didn’t know they were gay? Maybe I knew but we haven’t talked about it before? Maybe I even feel awkward about the fact that they’re gay? Maybe I recognize that they may feel vulnerable in this moment whether I knew or didn’t know before? Maybe the subject just feels heavy and instantly my brain shuts off because it feels like there is pressure to say the right thing or ease their anxiety. But what did I hear them say? What did I understand? How can I relate?

Maybe I respond by saying

“That makes sense to me, being yourself with people can be scary but can be a relief”

Did I really say anything new? Or did I just acknowledge what I understood from their message? More importantly I am seeking to validate their feelings.

Or maybe I could respond

“I imagine you still feel nervous sometimes when talking about it. Is that right?”

This provides validation, and lets them choose whether they want to keep talking about it or not, and gives them a chance to correct you if that’s not a correct mirror of how they feel. And it doesn’t matter if their response is then “nope, not nervous at all” or “yes you’re right.” Being right doesn’t necessarily make you a better listener. It’s okay to be wrong, as long as you are seeking to understand.

Let’s try another one. You could also say 

“I know you might have felt nervous when you first told me, but I’m glad you now feel more comfortable”

This is trying something new. I’m speaking to something that was not necessarily said. I’m reading between the lines and making an assumption. They said they were nervous when they “came out” and I’m acknowledging that they may have felt that way with me specifically. I could also have specifically referenced their parents or their best friend or their significant other or whoever in the place of me. All I’m doing is addressing what they said in the context of a specific example I can imagine taking place. 

I could also ask about their feelings directly

“Is it still nerve wracking now, when you talk about it?”

I think the big thing with reflective listening is that I’m not trying to come up with new material here. I’m not jumping from talking about the weather and now trying to think up the next subject we can discuss. It’s a lot less pressure to just respond to what’s been presented than trying to think of something new.

Now, this example was actually a fairly easy one because they revealed their emotions right off the bat. What if they only said “I’m gay.” And you are left with responding to that alone?

Honestly I can respond with something as simple as “so you’re attracted to women?” Again, all I did was repeat back what they said but in my own words. They then have the chance to clarify what being “gay” means for them. Maybe you’re right, maybe they meant something else. They now have the chance to agree with you, or say “no, I only meant I’m happy” 😜 or maybe they can follow up with “well I’m actually bi-sexual” or any number of things. 

Or, I try to read between the lines and reply to the feelings I imagine they’re having.

“Was it scary to tell me that?”

Imagine how you might feel if put in their shoes, and try to respond to the feelings said or unsaid.

Reflective listening can work for a lot of things. What about politics?

“Talking about Trump makes me so mad!”

What do I say if I don’t agree with them? Well, I don’t have to agree with them to listen to them. I can repeat back what they said or I can speak to the feelings in between the lines

“I take it you don’t like Trump?”

Or “It can be so frustrating when someone you don’t agree with is in power.”

I don’t have to tell them if I disagree. That’s not to say you can’t or that it’s wrong to tell them you disagree.. just that it’s not a skill in reflective listening specifically. That could still be your follow up statement, “I like Trump, but I understand that he causes you frustration. You can tell me more about why he makes you mad”

Disagreeing doesn’t have to shut down the conversation. I can give them the chance to talk further about their feelings and let them know that their feelings are just as valid and worth discussing as mine. 

Anyway, maybe that’s helpful. Maybe it’s not. It’s just one tool in a toolbox, and not the only way to have a conversation.

Pinky Swear

When I was a kid, I was all about the pinky swear. I’m not sure how I got onto the concept.. probably a friend or kids at school. I remember frequently trying to get my mother to make me pinky promises that she would do something or let me do something or take me somewhere or what have you. And my mother always just said “I don’t believe in making promises.” It always frustrated me as a child. It wasn’t that she was trying to tell me she couldn’t promise something would happen just in case something fell through or things changed or what have you. That really wasn’t what she meant. At one point or another she elaborated. What she meant was that in her opinion, making “promises” cheapened everything else that came out of her mouth that wasn’t declared “a promise.” Like I should believe her less or think her less reliable when the words “I promise” were missing at the end of a sentence. She believed in a “my word is my bond” mentality. She didn’t say she was going to do something unless she had every intention of doing it. In essence, every time she agreed to anything it was a promise, even though she wouldn’t wrap her pinky around mine or say “I promise.” It was implicit every time. 

Even still it annoyed me as a kid, because to me I just didn’t see the difference. It’s not a big deal to just say “I promise” or wrap pinkies! Right? What’s the difference if everything is a promise?

But as an adult, and as a mother, I find myself understanding more and more. I don’t want to make promises to my kids. I don’t want to tell them I will do something and have them worried that there’s an “if” statement attached to it unless I follow it up with “I promise.” I want them to have full confidence that I will do what I said because that is my track record. No promises necessary because my word is my bond.

Plenty of people have heard me get on my “words matter” soap box. But I suppose sometimes the omission of words matters too. 

We’ve been talking to my oldest son fairly regularly lately about the idea of a “track record” so to speak, although not in  those words. But just the idea that people are more inclined to think of you as honest if their past experiences with you were all ones of honesty too. It’s a hard line for him to balance because while he wants to be considered honest, he also has low impulse control, and also enjoys being a prankster. Not to say you can’t be honest and a prankster, I just think it’s a hard balance for a child. 

Anyway, I think it’s one of those things that’s sort of equivalent to “actions speak louder than words” and the action of having good follow through means a lot more than just saying you’ll follow through.  I want to be taken at my word. When I tell people I feel a certain way, or don’t feel a certain way, I want them to feel confident that I am honestly and accurately portraying how I feel and not just providing lip-service for their comfort or assurance. And part of being taken at my word, means that it shouldn’t be necessary for me to follow up a statement with “I promise” because I already meant it the first time, and I want to be believed whether a promise was a proffered or not. 

Although, I’m also a flake sometimes, and forget things frequently. But my intention is always that my word is my bond, and I hope my kids learn to understand that too.