Say What You Need To Say

Living cultures are defined by successful communication among their inhabitants. As humans, we pride ourselves in our ability to communicate. We write. We speak. We touch. We’re not the only ones, however. While other species may not necessarily have the writing thing down yet, they do practice forms of verbal and touch communication. They mate. They hunt. They defend. So as humans, we can only pride ourselves in our ability to communicate sophisticatedly. We, for the most part, are not brutes. We have the power to speak our minds and to share our thoughts and feelings in a variety of ways.

So how come we find it so hard to communicate, to honestly share with people our opinions, our decisions, our feelings? How are other species so successful with non-verbal communication when we humans can’t even get the verbal part down? Why can’t we seem to take advantage of this gift? If you ask me, it’s the instinct. When a dog is unhappy, it growls, it bites, it barks. When a bull is unhappy, it charges. When a human is unhappy? There are about a thousand options. We think too much about the consequences and repercussions, when sometimes, we should just jump.

I’m one to talk. I bottle up my emotions. I never know how to best express my feelings. Sometimes I’m scared of harming those directly involved. Sometimes I’m scared of the response. Sometimes I’m scared of the way it will affect me. So I keep it in, or worse, I divert my emotion (anger, annoyance) towards undeserving individuals.

Obviously, not all humans are like myself, and (in most cases…) that’s definitely a good thing. They know what they want and they use communication to achieve it. There’s also a fair amount of confidence involved. You must have total and complete faith in yourself and your feelings. You can’t waiver. It really is an art, the ability to tell a person how you feel. Silence may be nice enough to keep you safe, but it has no qualms about tormenting either. Unfortunately.

My pen really is my sword. It fights my battles. It does my dirty work. Writing for me is like a euphemism. It makes everything a little softer, and little easier to present and much easier to digest, when I simply can’t spit it out. It’s the easier way, and I realize that’s not right. I can only envy those who are driven by instinct.

By not being able to see another person’s immediate reaction, you’re protected. But are you really communicating? Communication is a two-way street. Throwing some scribbles at a person isn’t exactly an equal exchange.

So while I might like to think that by writing I’m actually practicing the highest order of communication (considering we humans are the only ones to have successfully incorporated writing into our lives), I know deep down that I’m actually avoiding the most direct form of communication.

Yes, yes, I have a problem. But admitting it is the first step, right? And until I take care of it, you can have the pleasure of enjoying this blog.