Saw this today at the local bookstore
Ow ow ow ow ow
I’ve always wished for someone to tell me this. What’s sad
is that even if someone did, it’s doubtful I’d ever believe them. When I was a
kid, my extended family (aunts, uncles, grandmother) used to all tease about
how talkative I could be. I got nicknames like Chatty Cathy and Motor Mouth and
Lips. I’d hear, “Put a cork in it. My ears are getting tired.” It was meant to
be funny, but I felt like the joke.When I was about 11 or 12, I stopped talking around extended
family for close to a year, only short answers when directly spoken to. NO. ONE. NOTICED. And I was still addressed by my nicknames. I realized
then that nothing I said had ever mattered. Whatever I was passionate about,
whatever interested me, wasn’t worth mentioning because I was the only one that
cared. I love my family and I know they love me. They’ll never know what their
playful teasing did.Because I still question. I rarely talk to people. I
search people during conversation for clues that they might be disinterested
and chastise myself for days if I feel like I’ve talked too much. I realize I
overreact and likely see disinterest and annoyance when there isn’t any. But
then someone will interrupt and talk over me and with my sentence unfinished, I
can fade away and no one will remember that I had been saying something.It can be irritating when people talk a lot and kids’
passionate ramblings can make little sense and be exhausting with how long they
can go on. Just be careful how you handle it. Don’t ever let someone think that
you don’t care about what they say. If you have had enough of a conversation,
cut it off kindly and make sure that person knows that it’s not because you don’t
care.Otherwise they could end up like me…
who agonized over whether or not to post this.
In the end, I decided it was okay because likely no one will care enough to read
it anyway.
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