Dear Mom,

Recently, I had a conversation with Idris about some bad choices he had been making. Small instances of questionable behavior that I noticed. This is what my almost six-year-old boy said in response to my concerns. He told me that sometimes he feels like he is deep, really deep, in his own heart. And when he is around certain people it’s like the friend is on the outside and he is stuck deep within. We talked more and we concluded together that he is being influenced by other kids in ways that he doesn’t like. In ways that make him feel bad and make him feel like he is losing himself in the process. He then told me that he feels the best, the most like himself, when he is helping me clean the apartment. So, we spoke about how showing kindness to others and helping his friends will assist him in staying true to himself. I left him with the goal to go to school the next day and focus on helping someone. His teacher. A friend. A kid from a different class he doesn’t know. Be helpful. He came home that day super proud of himself. Proud that he avoided getting sucked into bad influences and instead focused on playing with kids who make him feel good. He helped people where he could and felt a huge difference.

This was a pretty mind-blowing and unexpected conversation with my kid. The fact that he could put his feelings into words in such a way. I can barely understand that concept in my own body. Perhaps it’s because he is still a kid. Still able to see and think clearly about how he feels without the pressures of expectations. He is yet to have a filter.  

So, naturally it got me thinking about myself. About when and how I feel the most me. What actions make me feel like I’m lost inside myself, and which bring me out to the surface.

To be honest, it took me days of contemplation to come up with something. 

At first thought, there was nothing. My mind was totally blank. 

Then, it came to me. What makes me feel the most content with myself. The most fulfilled. When I close my eyes and think about those moments when I am my best. My happiest. My answer is connection. Social connection. I love getting to know other humans.

I will stay at a get together. A kids birthday party. A school event. A family event. For hours and hours and hours if all we’re doing is sitting around and talking. I love chatting with other adults. I love getting to know people. It’s why I absolutely love training my clients. I love hearing about their days. The exciting moments and the challenges. I love listening and giving advice when asked for it.

I don’t enjoy being alone. Not for long periods of time. I can certainly fill my day with activities, but I get bored and I will talk out loud to myself pretty quickly to avoid the quiet. 

Jeremy laughs at me sometimes for the fact that I leave really early to pick the kids up from school. It’s not because I want to find parking. It’s not because I’m worried about being late. It’s literally because getting there early will maximize my time to talk with other parents. To catch up with the ones I know and to meet the ones I don’t yet. It’s twenty extra minutes a day of feeling fulfilled. 

I have noticed, what makes me second-guess and overthink my conversations later in the day is when I talk too much about myself or when I catch myself thinking about what I am going to say next instead of truly listening to the person I’m with. 

When I was growing up, I used to get extremely aggravated when you weren’t listening to me. I could tell when you were off in your own thoughts. A million miles away. Probably thinking about your own regrets in life. I’d be yapping away. Telling you about my day or my concerns or something I was compelled to share, and I’d look over and I swear you’d be daydreaming. Totally gone. No actual acknowledgment of your daughter talking next to you. And this has stuck with me. Now I hate it when I’m talking to someone and they’re clearly not listening to me. But I can’t always control what people around me are doing. I might be able to confront Jeremy or my kids, but that’s about it. So, what can I control? I can control myself and my own actions. I can control whether or not someone is left thinking that I’m not listening to them.

I don’t want to leave a conversation wondering if I gave off the impression of not truly listening. I don’t want someone walking away feeling embarrassed that they shared things about themself to someone who didn’t really care. Because believe it or not, I do care. I do want to know what people have to say. I want to learn from them. To connect to them. To debate with them and share our differences. 

So, this is my new focus. I am going to actively work on listening. Listening deeply. Engaging with people. Repeating what people say so they know I heard them and then asking follow up questions. At the same time, I’m going to work on clearing my own head. Focus on not thinking about a million other things while I’m in a conversation. And definitely work on not thinking about my next sentence while someone is talking. 

I guess it’s really all in an effort to not be self-absorbed. Maybe that’s the feeling that is icky to me. When I second-guess a conversation it’s usually because it leaves me wondering if I am seen as self-centered. Oh, there goes that Rachel girl always talking about herself. And, clearly, I like to talk about myself, I mean look at these letters. But what I truly enjoy is sharing a story with a person that brings out a similarity between us. A way to relate to one another. To connect.

My kids are lucky enough to learn about this in school. They learn about techniques to listen deeply and ensure strong friendships. These are ideas that adults need to learn as well. I need to remind myself often of this concept. I want to listen in order to understand people rather than listen in order to respond. 

I’ve been learning lately about ways to have more effective conversations and one technique I want to work on going forward is less texting and more calling. I hate texting. Honestly. It hurts my hands when I text too much and it’s so boring. I want to have real conversations with people. To find out more about them and how they’re feeling in their world.

Ultimately, I crave human connection and I think that’s what I’m missing when I’m looking at my phone. Texting and participating on social media both make me feel robotic. It’s a false sense of connection and it leaves me feeling empty.

I do understand that technology has provided us with a way to communicate while saving time. For me, it can be too easy to look at my day and decide I don’t have time to connect with people. I don’t have time to make a phone call. Texting is quicker. But I feel like if I’m not willing to carve out time to call a friend, then I’m not truly living. I’m just getting by. Missing the bigger picture. Also, I know for sure that there are pockets of my day when I can find the time to make a call.

I know this because I used to do it with you. For years. I called you on my lunch break. I called you on my walks. I called you on my commute. While I ran errands. While I was cooking. And when you died, I stopped calling people. I think I believed no one else wanted to talk to me. Not like you did. But I see it all more clearly now. I used to call you to talk to you about mundane things. To tell you what I was cooking that night. To tell you all about my day. And sometimes you listened. Sometimes you gave me advice. Sometimes you simply shared your own moments from your day. It wasn’t always perfect. Particularly in the end when you’d forget what we were talking about mid conversation. But all those years of conversations with you provided me with what I needed the most, human connection. I wasn’t walking the world alone with you in my ear. 

So, as I start to make this switch, to talk to people more and to truly listen, I need to remind myself that I’m not calling you. I must be aware that not all people will be as excited to answer my calls as you were. Most don’t want to know about my errands. Some may not answer at all. But, to me, it’s the act of calling, of reaching out, that counts. The most important part for me is that I focus on my communication skills. My listening attentively. My ability to truly connect to the people in my life. To not just talk at people but talk with people. 

It’s really interesting to me, this little realization I’m having about what makes me the happiest. It wasn’t that long ago that I said I prefer to write alone in my bedroom than write in, let’s say, a writer’s room (not that any writer’s rooms have come knocking). But it’s not the writing with other people that I’m avoiding. It’s the instant criticism. That’s the part I don’t enjoy. What I do enjoy, and what I do miss, is working around other people. It gets lonely being alone for so many hours. And I don’t like being lonely. I don’t like being alone. So, you might ask why I don’t go to a coffee shop and write in the midst of other humans. Sadly, that won’t work for me. If I’m at a coffee shop writing, which I have tried, the one thing I don’t do while there is write. I people watch. I listen to conversations around me. I join conversations around me. I search the passerby for people I may know. Turns out, writing is actually best done alone in my room because it’s the only place without the distractions of other humans. It’s when I’m not working. When I’m between clients or taking a break from writing, that’s when I want to be around people. Talking. Listening. Connecting. 

I so wish we had spoken about this concept before you died. You were such a conversationalist in so many ways. Even if you didn’t always listen to me. But you very much started conversations with strangers and didn’t love being alone. In fact, I think the moments alone were your saddest. I feel that way now. Being alone is so sad to me.

These letters to you are my way to continue our conversation. To talk about the things we never had the chance to talk about while you were here. More examples of me talking and you not listening. But that’s why I make these public. So somewhere out there someone will read my words and start their own conversation. Either with me or with someone else in their own life. Ultimately, I want to do more than strengthen my own communication skills. I want to help strengthen it for people all around the world. I’m simply starting small. Starting local. Starting with me and my family and my circle. And hopefully as I put myself out there more as a strong listener, I will find more people willing to listen back. To join in on the conversation so life can be a little less lonely. 

I love you, Mom.

Love,

Rachel