Communication

I'm coming to the conclusion that I'm a crummy communicator.

It seems crazy to me. I write for fun. I used to be a mostly effective preacher. I enjoy words – their meanings, the power they have to bring about change in the world. But when it comes to expressing my own personal feelings I usually find that the words I choose don't do an adequate job of painting a portrait that looks like anything recognizable.

What I really wish is that I could be like Dumbledore and pull my feelings and memories out of my head and place them in the Pensieve so that I wouldn't have to worry about interpretation. Anyone who cared could look.

It would be nice.

As my level of emotion rises, there's a direct correlation to the number of words I use. More stress = fewer words = even more stress as I wonder why I am being misunderstood. Anyone who actually reads this blog knows when it's happening. My posts get farther and farther apart.

I guess that's my communication style. Kind of dysfunctional, but difficult to change after all these years. Mostly, I am a forward and direct kind of speaker and writer. I used short, to-the-point sentences. I've been told from time to time that I can be blunt and off-putting. I'm OK with that. I'm not a writer or speaker who is proficient at transporting someone to another world or who has the ability to explain things in ways that the hearer has never explored before.

My uncle Jon has that kind of writing ability. Sometimes his descriptions of the commonplace things can take my breath away. When writing about his experiences when he first opened a Facebook account he said, "It's like a scrapbook for the whole world, held together by everyone's imagination." 

If you're on Facebook you know exactly what that means.

My Dad on the other hand, writes obliquely. He slants around, never quite getting to the point. For some reason I still receive his church newsletter. One came in the mail on Saturday and in it, he addressed his current health situation. Sort of.

"Today my doctor and I talked about the likelihood of my death. I told her that 13 billion people have lived on this planet called Earth and so far over one half of them have died. 'Guess what's going to happen to the other 6 1/2 billion. . .and me,' I asked. I reminded her that the question isn't 'Are we going to die?' but rather, 'Are we prepared to die?'"

"I've grown closer to Jesus because I have been forced to think more about my own mortality. I still don't think I will die before the Rapture occurs, but I might. I am very thankful that I am useful to Him and that He has prepared me for either one."

The fact that he never really got to the point in his column bothered me. Ali pointed out to me that in those moments my emotions thawed and I became aware of the sensations of fear and pain that have been frozen for so long. She was right.

Since my uncle Jon is the only one who is in communication with my Dad I wrote him an email in typical Tanya style – less than 200 words and ending with, "I guess more than anything I'm scared that he's going to die and I will be left wondering whether I ever mattered to him at all." How's that for bare naked emotion? Gotta give me credit. . .it's all or nothing some days. As they say, "Go big or go home."

His response was so emotionally eloquent that it made me weep.

All of us share the same loss of a loving, feeling brother who found an ego in a different realm.  Our loss is nothing in comparison to your loss and we all share a helpless love for you that none of us really know how to express to you. You really mattered to the Kirk we all grew up with. Somewhere we all hope that the "old" Kirk will return and the "new" Kirk will retire and lay down his armor. Until then for what its worth, you still have the rest of us undivided and unconditionally loving you whether we know how to communicate it to you or not.

With Hope and Love,

Jon

What really rips me apart and causes me to shut down is the fine line between feeling pain and wallowing in it. The line between expressing my truth and becoming someone who others perceive as not being able to deal with whatever life hands out. 

I can't stand whiners. And I don't want to be one. So, maybe I will be a little bit quiet here for awhile. Maybe I'll try to cut myself some slack. Or maybe I'll just give thanks for the boundless generosity and graciousness that's already in my life and work at continuing to let the rest of it go.

All I can say is that I'm doing the best I can.