I recently enrolled in an online course with Hand in Hand on Parenting by Connection. One of the key tenets of their philosophy is listening both to our children, to ourselves and to each other. Week one. We are asked to reflect on our experience of listening. “Easy” says my ego. “You’re really good at listening. This will be a walk in the park.” I started by bringing my attention to listening in my day to day life. Not only who I was listening to and how deeply but also what my feelings were in those moments and, perhaps more crucially, who was listening to me?
I began to remember my childhood. Days and weeks spent watching and listening so that I could mould myself to fit around others needs. Teenage years spent comforting my Mum and sister after my Dad’s death and swallowing my own tears. Being the comforting arm and the open ear through university and beyond. I am always the person that complete strangers tell their life story to. I once believed there must be something magic about my kitchen table as so many acquaintances plonked themselves on a chair and poured out their life story…until a good friend pointed out that it wasn’t my table, it was me! My career as a coach draws on this magic I have, this ability to empathically connect with another human being, to hold space for them, to hear them deeply and with compassion. When I work the magic pours through me. It sustains me. Yet when I am playing the role of the busy Mum and the butcher tells me all about his wife’s cancer the opposite can be true. I begin to resent this intrusion, this sucking up of my vital energy.
I take this conundrum to my wonderful friend and coaching buddy to muse over. We talk about listening, about empathy, about boundaries and connection. I realise that although I listen constantly, I rarely allow myself to be listened to. When I inquire, he doesn’t feel the same. He’s in recovery, part of a 12 step program, and “reaching out” is a crucial part of his recovery. He has people who can meet him in that vulnerable, messy, real place whenever he needs it. Who are there for just that purpose, not to discuss the weather or the kids or the state of the outer world but simply to bear witness to his inner world. As I listen, I am filled with envy. My emotional background is as messed up as any addict’s yet I have never suffered from an addiction that would gain me entry to the support of a 12 step program. I have more or less got through my painful spiritual journey alone. I am adept at holding space for myself and for others yet I have never allowed others to do the same for me unless I am paying them for their help. Jonathon hears all this for me. I feel raw, exposed, abandoned, rejected.
The next day J calls me with an offer. He will listen to me every day until I no longer need it. Every day! I am in awe of the offer. Deep within me I know I must accept but resistance is strong. “You don’t need this” “you should be able to do this for yourself” “call yourself a coach!”. Shame rises like the tide coming in. But the little voice that signed me up to begin a coach in the first place whispers “yes” and I begin a period of intense learning, excruciating vulnerability, honesty, tears and yes, a period of being deeply heard and held every day.
It is SO hard to simply receive and not to give. I have to close my mouth as it tries to speak “how are you?” “how does that make you feel?”. I have to lean into silence to feel deep within me and know what is real. I have to learn how to be held, how to be heard. It gets easier with time but the need to help in return takes longer to leave. This is such a deeply embedded pattern in my behaviour and yet I have never been able to see it before. So for me this listening, this being heard is leading me on a journey of discovery into the continent that is my self. It is also teaching me a far greater lesson – that sometimes it is OK to just sit back and receive.
So how about you, dear reader? Does reading this make you uncomfortable? Do you recognise some of my patterns in yourself? If you do then I urge you to own it, to reach out to someone who loves you and ask to be heard, to be listened to. It is one of the most powerful practices there is. Or reach out to me and ask me to be there for you. I would be honoured to be part of your journey.
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