Explanations are a weird thing for me. In some cases, I enjoy talking at length about particular things. In other cases, however, I hate doing that very thing. Here’s what I mean.
I can talk all day about things I enjoy. Juggling is a perfect example. At the juggling meetings I host twice a month, I often get to introduce people to or remind them of different patterns, techniques, variations, and so on. Although plenty of people know more about juggling than I do, I’ve absorbed quite a bit in the twenty years that I’ve been juggling, so I have a lot to share with others. I love explaining different things in juggling and seeing the lightbulb turn on over someone’s head when they’ve learned something new or thought about something in a different way.
The kind of explanations I hate giving are about my personal issues. There are multiple reasons for that. One of them is how I fear the other person will respond. When I talk about my concerns, I don’t want judgment, someone else’s opinions or experiences, criticism, condemnation, etc. I just want love, understanding, and compassion. Unfortunately, I so often receive that which I hate and so seldom receive that which I want. Even when I say what I want, others still often ignore my wishes and say whatever they want instead. If that’s going to happen more often than not, I’d rather just stay quiet and keep my concerns to myself.
The other kind of explanations I hate giving are ones where there is nothing to explain. Sometimes nothing will be happening and yet someone will still ask, “What?” (or asks that after I sigh or make any small movement) instead of just sharing a quiet moment with me. I then feel pressured to give an explanation for something that doesn’t need explaining. Just the act of striving to think of how to explain the inexplicable tires me out and attempting to do so is even more draining. That leads nicely into my next point.
Talking is generally tiring to me, and it’s occasionally downright exhausting. That’s even more the case when I’m explaining at length something that I don’t even want to talk about. When that happens, it seems that the more tired I feel, the more others want me to keep talking. Or they’ll take over at some point and talk my ear off. Listening to lengthy explanations is exhausting for me as well, especially when I’m trying to understand all the disjointed, random points and subject changes somebody is making while talking almost faster than I can hear. How does anyone enjoy an exchange in which the other person contributes little to nothing and doesn’t care about what the person talking has to say?
On far too many occasions, I’ve spent an enormous number of words (either typed out or spoken) explaining a perspective or tendency of mine only for the other person to instantly dismiss it as soon as I’m finished. That always hurts and makes it seem as if they care so much about making sure I know what they think that they won’t take even a moment to think about what I’ve said before waving it away. The worst time this happens is whenever someone gets on a soapbox about my dog Sawyer’s death. It’s exhausting to hear and respond to questions or demands about getting another animal friend, explaining why I haven’t and don’t plan to, what others think I “should” do to heal from his death, etc. I always appreciate those who don’t do any of that and who’d rather hear stories about Sawyer, see pictures of him, and other similarly wholesome things.
On many other occasions, I’ll explain why I will or won’t do something to somebody and they then try to find a foothold to get what they want. For example, I can say I’m not going to an event because I have a gig that day and they ask what time my gig is, as if I can go either before or after the gig. Similarly, I can say I’m not going somewhere because I have work that day and, after finding out what time I get off work, they’ll say I can just go after work. In any kind of situation like that, I’d rather they just accept my “no” without trying to pressure me into changing my mind or demanding an explanation. “No is a complete sentence” is one of my favorite boundary statements, and I’m enjoying getting better at saying no without adding anything onto it.
Something else I’ve realized is that explanations are extremely close to defensiveness. When someone challenges me to explain something, especially if they do so in an intense way, I feel a combination of fear and anger come up. As if what I’ve said or done isn’t good enough and I need their permission or forgiveness for it. Most defensiveness I’ve seen and experienced seems to come from insecurity. When I feel secure about something, I feel no need to defend it; it can stand on its own with no support from me. Additionally, the more I explain or defend something, the more others seem to attack it. If I simply let it be without trying to shape another person’s opinion of it, they’re far more likely to leave it alone. I always appreciate whenever that happens.
No more needless explanations from me. If somebody lacks the commitment to understand what I’m saying (or worse, is committed to *misunderstanding* what I’m saying), then I won’t waste my breath explaining anything to them. Similarly, if I don’t want to explain something or there is nothing to explain, I won’t. I’ll continue describing my inner world on this blog, and anyone who wishes to gain a deeper understanding of what makes me tick can easily obtain that by reading the many posts I’ve put up here over the years. In conversation, however, I’ll continue explaining only that which I wish to explain and keep using the various tools I’ve found helpful for doing so (such as saying, “Because,” “No,” “Nope,” “I’d rather not say,” and “I don’t like talking about ______,” asking questions about the other person to take the focus off of me, and simply staying quiet). Remembering that it’s ok for me to set and maintain boundaries in conversation, giving myself permission to practice it, and finding ways to make it happen have already made me feel more at ease around others. I’m sure I’ll feel even more comfortable as I continue finding and using my voice. Or not using it as the case may be.