Last night I was reminded how much I really suck at expressing my feelings. My social-skills in a one on one context are mediocre at best. I do have to give myself credit though, in the past 2 years I’ve gotten a lot better at it, even if it’s just by simply trying to force the words out of my mouth instead of through my finger tips or through my music.
Whether I like or not, whether it forces me out of my comfort zone, my lack of communication skills has great potential to destroy any kind of relationship I’ve built. Communication is key, especially when you’re on the damaged side.
Last night makes me wince though. I managed to talk, and talk with out a stutter at that, but I feel like I butchered my thoughts, like I confused my word-sparring-opponent even more than if I had just closed up the walls like I had originally planned.
I laid in bed, trying to get the words to come out right. Explained what I was trying to say a few times, trying to get it to sound right, but yet it just… wouldn’t. As I was talking, the words in my head were screaming at me. Letting me know that I was fucking it up, that I wasn’t making sense, and there for not only fucking up my point, not only fucking up my thoughts during the formation of speech, but quite potentially fucking up a very good thing.
That. Right the hell there. That last thought is why I have such a hard time trying to talk to people, trying to not be alone in my thoughts and emotions. I know I suck at this kind of thing, and I’m so scared of destroying the good relationships in my life that I just stop trying.
So laid there, forcing myself to talk. Feeling small and minuscule. With my thoughts and feelings and WORDS screaming at my in my head. My explanation, my insides, what I meant tumbling out of my mouth, jumbled up, not meaning what I wanted them too.
That moment came. The tears behind my eyelids threatening to spill out. That moment, the one where I’m sure I’ve made no sense and quite possibly scared away one of the people who make me smile the most. I sat there blinking and listening, reminding myself that at least I tried, at least I tried. I opened up instead of closing completely down.
I fell asleep with an arm around me and the assurance that I hadn’t pushed him away.
That inability to express myself through spoken word, or I guess since I’m making attempts at it I should say, my lack of success with it is one of the few things I highly dislike about myself.
Unfortunately, I have destroyed many a relationship over the years with this. Friends, lovers, family, you name it. Like I wrote earlier, communication is key for any relationship to thrive. Knowing what I say doesn’t come out right is disheartening. Sure, I can write, I can pour myself out on paper, computer, through paint, but talking through my fingers isn’t always good enough. Stumbling over my words, with my head screaming at me makes me sink into this feeling of… inadequacy. Girls are supposed to be talkers. We’re supposed to want to discuss every little thing, but if left to my own devices, I clam up. I let my insides dwell and simmer. Boil. If I’m left to my own devices, the other party suffers, they don’t know what’s going on, what I want, whats inside of me. Eventually it collapses on itself and I lose. Or worse, it explodes and we all lose.
I guess what I’m writing this for is to remind myself that I have improved. That I hate that feeling I get when I remember my less-than-desirable talent and screwing up words. I wanted to remind myself that I have improved and I want to keep trying to be open with the people I care about. It’s the effort that really counts, and you can’t fix your faults if you don’t try.