Is Anyone Listening?

I believe there is an art to listening and I’m still working at it. When I was little I didn’t understand how to do it. My world then was mostly about talking. I was surrounded by lots of people who talked about everything, all the time. My parents, sister and I were like that. We had strong personalities and emotions, and we expressed most of it on a verbal level.

Our kitchen table was the place where things like politics, people, and current events were discussed at varying decibels. My parents stressed that it was important to participate in conversations and speak one’s mind. Sometimes, in the midst of our talks, everyone was speaking at once so I raised my voice just to be heard. No one paid much attention to my outbursts. I began to feel that the most important thing was the flow of the conversation, not always what someone tried or wanted to say. I often wondered, “Is anyone listening?”

Just before I started high school I lost my ability to speak normally. Suddenly and without explanation I was left with a shaky voice, speech that was mostly indecipherable, and a lump in the bottom of my throat that never went away. In a short period of time it became painful to speak.

I was only about twelve years old when I lost my fluency. Being vocal had been such a big part of my identity, but within the year I would barely add anything to the ongoing talk around me. To speak I either had to painfully force out words or substitute words because so many were too hard to say. For instance, I couldn’t say a hard “G” as in “going,” so I used the word “come” instead of “go.” In the end I often couldn’t really say what I wanted and I didn’t think that anyone was particularly interested in listening, so I didn’t even want to bother.

School was no different. I couldn’t speak well enough to give the answers to questions, so I stopped raising my hand in class. I was in a hole that I couldn’t get out of so I took my place in the background. I stopped talking and I became a listener.

By the age of twenty I was comfortable sitting back and hearing what others had to say. As the years passed I observed a lot from all the listening I had done. I saw that some people don’t always have much to say, but they’ll talk because they feel a pressure to do so. Other people talk too much and speak over everyone, often controlling the conversation. Then there are those who I love to listen to. These people are great listeners themselves because I see them thinking when others talk. They are calm, patient, and don’t interrupt or rush to say what’s on their mind. Sometimes these people come across as quiet, but when they speak, people listen.

With all the listening I did I often told myself, “If I am ever able to talk again, I’ll never take my ability to speak for granted. I won’t take over a conversation. I’ll take my time and be thoughtful of others. I’ll try to be discriminate with my words and say things that matter.”

Almost forty years after my speech problem had begun, I was diagnosed with a severe speech disability and started getting help to speak again. When I was finally able to participate in conversations, I was very timid about it. Sometimes my voice sounded odd or weak, and if I had very little volume I could only speak quietly or in a whisper.

Slowly, over time, my voice often sounded more normal. However, when I began to use it in conversations I couldn’t help but notice that I did some of the things I disliked the most. I could be quick to respond and I didn’t always think before I said something. Sometimes I even dominated a conversation and I hated myself for that. When I caught myself doing these things, I would ask, “Haven’t I learned anything? What am I doing?” Then one day I made a conscious effort to slow down, be mindful, and remember the people who impressed me the most with their calm and patience. I knew if I could be like that, listen to others as much as I wanted them to listen to me, then my ability to speak would be worth something.

I am getting better at conversing and I believe it’s mostly due to all the listening I did. I know that I don’t need to raise my voice or force my words on anyone in a conversation, and I can speak quietly or with a voice that is broken and people will still listen. Even if my voice is gone and I can only use email to communicate, the idea is the same. All I have to do is listen to what others are saying with the same respect that I expect from them, be myself, and speak from the heart. It’s only then that I know people will pay attention. Only then will I get my say, and I won’t have to ask if anyone is listening.