Tell Me More

Tell me more. Tell me more about the boy who hit you and left a bruise on your left arm. Tell me more about the teacher who left a deeper scar, an emotional wound, giving you not flesh that was black and blue, but a bruised ego, damaged self-esteem when she told you that your writing was no good, that you’d never succeed in that field, or that your math skills were lacking and you’d be better off surrendering.

Surrendering to the sometimes all-consuming self-doubt that comes creeping in whenever you give him a chance; whenever he can get a toe in the door, the door into your mind, which, if you’re honest, you don’t guard as diligently as you should; the door into your soul and your deepest, darkest fears and secrets and…hopes.

He gets a foothold when you let down your guard, when you forget to distract yourself, to numb out, to fill your mind with voices – anyone’s voice other than your own. Distract with noise – any kind at all – TV, podcasts, random songs on the radio. Meditation chants, a prerequisite for sleep, whispering from your smartphone sitting on your cluttered nightstand inches from your face, which -- if you’re honest-- is the farthest it’s been from you since the moment you woke up this morning and reached for it by instinct almost before opening your eyes.

Because the enemy is silence.

When we permit silence, that’s when self-doubt thrives. He feasts on it and grows stronger and larger and oh, so much louder! The silence is a balloon being slowly, painstakingly inflated inside your brain and self-doubt enters with a sharp thumb-tack and pop! All your confidence escapes, evaporating into the air.

Tell me more. Tell me about your problems.

I will listen without judgement, without feeling compelled to tell you how I dealt with an eerily similar situation in my life, which will most certainly help you, too.

Photo credit: Popped Balloon 2onPicspree

I will listen without a hasty solution ready on my tongue, without the compulsive need to make your problem disappear, the need to stop you feeling sad, or mad, anxious, uncertain, doubtful, or betrayed, because when you feel those feelings, I can’t help but feel them, too. And they feel…they feel…like I’d just rather not feel them.

Because feeling those feeling is hard and it hurts and it’s…messy.

But I promise to refrain from doing any of those unhelpful things. Instead, I am here to just…listen. So please, tell me more…