The more effort I put into clear communication, the less anyone seems to be understanding me. I am the only thing all of these separate interactions have in common, which gives me reasonable confidence that I'm the problem. In the months since I have been aware of this, I have tried harder, and had even less success. It is maddening. If I'm brief, it's a game of questions and needing clarity. If I am not brief and explain, it does not seem people read it. I have a problem, I am the one to solve it, and I have no clue how to proceed.
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I wrote this initial thought in a draft on February 10th of last year. I typically have several drafts, partially thought out, waiting patiently for inspiration or simply the time to write them.
This one has been a bit different in that it never really leaves my mind. I have not been waiting for inspiration, I have been searching for understanding.
Phase 1: Recognition of Patterns. When I first became painfully aware of the issue, I believe I was acting and communicating in a way that was not at all new to me. I still have not identified anything in particular that could stand out as a variable to my behavior. Perhaps what is going on is nothing novel, but simply something I had failed to pick up on.
At the time I began this, I was serving on two boards for two different organizations. With each, I would email very thorough explanations of items I was tasked with addressing prior to meetings. Rarely would I receive much response. Once the board meetings would come about, it would seem apparent that few read it, but even of those who clearly had, the questions posed were all questions I foresaw and went out of my way to answer directly in the initial communication to avoid this exact thing taking up time at the meeting. While irksome, I did not take it personally. Everyone has busy lives, we are all volunteers involved in many things. So, I can understand logically how it happens.
It began to be more apparent at work. I would explain things clearly in detail so that a problem could be avoided, only to have the issue hit head on, and no one to have listened to me. However, we spoke face to face, and they participated in the conversation. So I started to question if those I was speaking to had less confidence in me than I had believed. I felt I have proven myself and made very logical arguments, which were not contested during the actual conversation. I started to take things personally, although at this point, I still felt that I was wrong to take it personally and needed to work on my attitude.
I started noticing the pattern arrive at home with me. In my conversations with family members. Text. Call. Face to face. The pattern would continue. However, these relationships being the least formal, I was beginning to call it out and inquire with people as to why I was not being understood. Frustratingly, often it would be acknowledged that I did indeed clearly communicate but it was misunderstood, forgotten, or dismissed.
In my frustration, I began my initial draft on the topic.
Phase 2: Desperation and Madness
My tactics and attempts to rectify the situation evolved over time, but were yielding few results. I began to try to over explain everything and to predict every possible question anyone may have. I have never been gifted with brevity, but my attempts to be heard or understood were becoming egregious. I was losing sight of the fact that I was paradoxically lowering the odds that anyone would even try to read anything I wrote. In spoken conversations, I was overlooking the interest and attention span of my listeners.
My agitation was beginning to increase to a problematic level. I was losing touch with my ability to try and understand the other side. It all began to feel like a personal attack upon me, as if everyone around me had agreed to gaslight me into a mental institution. I would become angry when it would occur, and started losing sight of the fact that the only common denominator in all these interactions was still me. "Why are they doing this to me? Why aren't they listening? I'm literally giving them the information they want, only for them to request that information in response."
Having obsessive tendencies, some instances have been much harder to let go of than others. It is especially difficult when I often do not realize that I am exhibiting obsessive behavior. I repeat the situation to anyone who can hear. No doubt, this is related to reassurance seeking behavior of OCD. I need others reassure me that I am not going crazy. Unfortunately, the reassurance does not alleviate the anxiety and obsession.
One literal example from work that I had trouble letting go of:
"You never told me that!"
"I have sent you an image I screenshotted. See, I told you right here. You responded. This was only yesterday." Only to be met with a reply of, "Nope." Which made me feel like something in my head may burst.
How much evidence do I need? What better example can I show that I am not wrong, and this is not just in my head?
Externally, I was doing my best to throttle the reassurance seeking and bothering other people when I managed to recognize it. Internally, the battle was only ramping up as I kept accumulating more and more anecdotes. Each one making me more sensitive to it and looking harder to spot it occurring. I had inadvertently blinded myself from recognizing evidence that would prove it was not nearly as common and consistent as I had come to believe. I began to question my own sanity. Is what I am perceiving actually happening? Am I even communicating what I believe I am? Is there anything I can even do about this? Am I a ghost, literally or figuratively?
Phase 3: Realization and Acceptance Contemplation on this topic began to bleed into everything I worked on. Every email I wrote, I started writing knowing that there was little likelihood the information would be heard. I could warn people in hopes they avoid an unnecessary challenge, but I could only do so knowing that they will neither listen to me nor remember they were warned once the problem arises.
A brief speech I wrote and presented during this time, included this excerpt:
"A well-known quote attributed to Lao-Tze is:
“Your thoughts become your words,
your words become your actions,
your actions become your habits,
your habits become your character,
your character becomes your destiny.”
If you think simply hearing something profound will change you, you’re mistaken. Hours from now, that quote will be a vague memory that you will not be able to quote correctly.
Change, and most especially, improvement, is a very intentional pursuit. It takes time and dedication to root out our flaws. Determination."
While I was working on the speech, I felt it was going to be something I was proud of. While not significant in the scope of life, it was a poignant moment for me as I had finally reached a point of confidence in what I was writing and how I would present it. I felt it would be the first time I was not nervous speaking before a group, and I was right. However, while I was working on the speech, I was painfully aware of how little it mattered, which is why I included the part I quoted above before printing it. I was contemplating this growing sense of ambivalence. Awareness that for my own mental health, I must do the best I can, but at the same time, knowing it doesn't matter in the least. The external validation holds no value. Whether complimented or insulted for my efforts, it really was meaningless as it will not take much time before it is entirely forgotten.
I had previously been convinced that it was all part of some divine guidance, directing me to change and grow. I was so certain that I needed to obtain an epiphany on how to communicate, and soon, before I went mad. Neither were my answer, though. I could feel the story arc finally finally beginning its descent. The climax was essentially just gaining an understanding and acceptance of the situation. From that point, the tension and distress from these experiences gradually reduced.
The gradual calm was accompanied by an existential depression. One that I tried to keep to myself. The hurdle I had to overcome was not my communication, but my flawed belief that anything I said mattered. In my mind, communication was so transactional. Black and white. Someone asks me a question, I give them the answer, they use that information they requested prudently. If not, why did you inquire with me? Another example comes to mind that made me feel unheard and a bit crazy. I work in maintenance, so it is not uncommon for those unfamiliar with fixing things to run things by me. Sometimes, as simple as replacing a two pronged outlet. - "What is it that you would like to do?" - "I want to replace it with a three pronged outlet, but I want it to be up to code." - "Okay, when you remove the old outlet, is there a ground wire. My friend said I could ______" I'm not giving the example, as not to encourage it be done. - "Well, you want it to be to code I thought?" - "Yes, that is very important." - "Okay, I researched and I emailed you the relevant code from the National Electrical Code, along with some clear instructions on how to follow it." - "That's too complicated. You always do this. You make things too complicated. I'm just gonna do what my friend said." That example, to me, was confounding because I saw it as not being heard. I must have miscommunicated somewhere. I was asked a question, I answered with the most accurate information I could after clarifying the goal, but rather than prudence being followed, I was brushed off and felt a bit offended. The notion that I was "making things too complicated," when I could not fathom a simpler way to give them the correct answer. I am glad I spent the effort to research the answer and condense it down to the bare bones required to accomplish the goal. Relaying it now, that is not really what happened in the example given. It was not a transaction. It was not an honest request for an objective fact. It was simply the incredibly human behavior of confirmation bias. The person, on some level, knows what they intend to do is incorrect, and only really wanted me to rubber stamp the idea so they could have the confidence that "someone with experience said it was fine." Which is not a good idea, because if I say something untrue, that does not change potential fire risk. And, as I said to that person, "It is not guaranteed or even very likely to start a fire, but I wouldn't bet my house on it."
Phase 4: Where it Rests for Now I feel as if it is my responsibility to continue to communicate as clearly and directly as I possibly can, with an emphasis on improving that ability. Beyond that, I must renounce the obsessive mindset that I have usurped responsibility for the outcome by simply answering what I was asked. If someone comes to me for an answer, but does not heed the advice, must not obsess. I will say that I take no pleasure in any sort of "I told you so." The moment I realize my warning is going to be ignored, I start hoping I'm wrong. "Well. You were right... Happy?" "No... I didn't want this to happen. I'm sad."
I must let go of the obsession that I must be understood. It is not something I have control over. What made me feel crazy was a certainty that I was not being understood, and that if I just tried harder and put more effort in, then I would be understood. With the objective physical realities of the world, that is easier to do. With my own feelings and trying to express them, it is much harder. So many times I have tried so hard to let someone know what I was thinking or feeling, only to feel entirely unheard. It is so common that I am misunderstood that I do question reality at times. Communication in these instances is the barrier. In the end, I am failing to evocate what I am feeling or experiencing in the mind of others. My mind will likely always vacillate between believing I have an inability to communicate, and believing the listener is refusing to put effort in to understanding me.
It all rests comfortably with the epiphany of the brevity of human memory. I often wonder how much credit goes to dopamine-driven scrolling or short-form content addiction. Is the average working memory and attention span decaying due to what has become common behavior? I believe there is a correlation and I believe I witness evidence of this, but I lack the data necessary to make that assertion. Regardless, I can find solace in the fact that whether anyone hears me or not, no one will remember it. So, I cast these thoughts out into the void. Undirected. Perhaps you skimmed or read every word I wrote.
Within 10 minutes, I'm sure an intact quote would not linger in your memory. By tomorrow, the vague idea will likely be all that is left.
Next week? You most likely won't remember you ever saw this. All that will remain is a faint echo somewhere in the back of the mind, possibly waiting to play some insignificant part in the whole of your consciousness. More likely, it will evaporate entirely from your mind, just as the videos you may have swiped through today have. Maybe I am a ghost, in a sense, but it doesn't matter. All I wanted was to feel like I understood what was happening. I'm not convinced I do, but at least I feel like I can set it down, for now.
