A desire to be heard
As I’ve written about before, sometimes life will reveal little bits and pieces to you along the way, along your journey, that will make that bigger picture fill in all by itself. Over the last few days, a few more images have been wiped clean, sort of, that have made an emerging picture that’s been slowly clearing for me over a period of time just a little clearer.
I have written before about really disliking being talked over, and that’s not really been an issue in the last several months, but a secondary and irritating issue is having spoken and not being listened to by either those around me or in direct conversation. It rarely seems to happen with strangers and quite frequently with people I’m close to. The worst example of this is when I’ve told somebody something in direct conversation and they ask me something about that same thing in the very next or subsequent sentence or sentences, or in conversation within the next few hours. It’s one of those things that just says either “What you’re saying to me isn’t important” or “I just wasn’t listening to you because frankly you bore me or “I”m not interested in what you had to say.” Depending on the nature of that relationship this can be a very hurtful thing to walk away with or have in your head and it’s certainly no fun thing to try to confront anyone over, especially if you feel that you have the uncomfortable “proof” on your side.
But past that, for me, I’ve had occasion recently to once again reflect on some things from youth that apparently I’ve hung on to. For me, I feel that past the age of 10, my voice was not heard. Without going into deep details, not only was “the importance” of how or what I truly felt about anything ever considered within what served as my family, but it was also pretty much quashed by not only one but two father figures. My desire to “entertain” and/or perform in creative fields began to truly emerge outright at that same age.
My decision to go follow music at 6th grade was a combination of natural music ability and my NEED TO BE HEARD. I turned to the only thing I felt that I could do well, because I’d already failed at sports efforts and the “normal” expectations of most boys my age (plus there was no interest on my part). It was an escape from my situations as well as a welcoming depot for the emotional stockpile building up inside of me for a while already.
That desire to do anything that would amplify my voice was probably behind every creative music or eventually acting endeavor I made, again combining with natural desires to perform. I NEEDED TO BE HEARD. Because it seemed like most everyone else in my world just “didn’t”, other than the rare individual friend who just seemed to “click” so well that the communication happened sporadically and organically.
Making these connections is very important at least for me, now, because it creates “channels” for me to guide a lot of things. Initial reactions all the way down to snap decisions about somebody or something. Am I reacting due to my own biases on personal decisions or real situations? Trust me, it means a lot because making any of those decisions for the wrong reasons has real and weighted consequence both emotional and realized.
Sometimes I have to step as far back in my mind as possible and try to truly examine as much about a day or even a single event as possible to make sure that I’m not over-reacting to something. This is pure & simple a by-product of living under control for several years and now making real & honest attempts to live the beginnings of “a life” again. But it doesn’t make it easier – in fact it makes the day a bit harder.. it’s scary, and right now it’s the most unpleasant part of my day…having to wonder if I’m “behaving” as one would be expected to “behave”….and that I’m just being myself….
There are days I want to rip that proverbial band-aid off…stop taking any kind of meds, but I’m actually thankful these don’t drag me down. But I remain strong willed, sharp minded, eager to learn, quick witted, and I’m just wondering from time to time if it wouldn’t be interesting to just be me, completely drug free….so I tried it about a month ago. for a week. just not a good idea.
So I write. So I’m blogging, writing the book, writing more music, and back in school to perfect the technical sides….I’ll finish these projects, and then one day….I’ll be gone. I just hope the words all get down, they all get heard and they all get said. If I’m gone, they may be the only things that exist in the real world to prove that I actually had something TO say. Because sometimes – many times of my life – it just seemed like no one wanted to listen.
Now I slightly worry because for something like singing, that I’ve worked so hard on for so long, I have spent the last 2 years out of practice, abusing it with too many cigarettes, and need to make those reverses immediately if I’m to have any luck with it at all. Have I fallen into someone else’s pattern of abuse? Again, more worry.
In the overall picture of life and possessions, in the end of it all, isn’t it truly only about what we share with each other? All of us, regardless of what path we’ve walked as professionally. When, if we live a natural life progression, may end up somewhat the same physically, possibly needing some kind of assistance, or generally in similar situations….if we average things out – and as we all age we realize we truly are both as alike as we are individual. It is about the journey individually and together.
Just like anybody, I just want to be heard.