Implied Meaning

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Originally October 3rd, 2020

I spend (waste?) a ton of time thinking before I speak, before I write, to the point that I sometimes don’t express myself at all. 

My mind drifts. Sometimes, social cues elude me. I’m notoriously bad at small talk. I like to be told what to do, or at least have a clear idea of what’s expected of me. Open discussions are dangerous because my mind can veer off in so many unpredictable directions. Ask me a simple question, and I’m jumping down a rabbit hole.

What is (really) being asked? What answer does this person want? Why am I (actually) involved in this conversation? What am I (specifically) expected to contribute?

It’s not because I don’t have strong opinions, a mind of my own. It’s because my mind is unwieldy. Prone to distractions. Second-guessing itself. Racing a mile-a-minute. Sometimes, unintentionally, in the opposite direction of the conversation at hand. 

I want you to reel me in because I’m paranoid.  Suspicious of everyone and everything. Never take anything at face value. Worry about hidden agendas. And always yearn to please.

Smile. Nod. 

Freeze

I spend (waste?) a ton of time thinking about implied meaning. My space in the conversation. The boundaries. When and when not to overstep. How to stay on target. Blend in. Even when I may benefit from standing out. I suffer under the false notion that invisibility is my freedom. Because I’m afraid to stand on my own two feet. Afraid to acknowledge - reveal - that I stand independent from those around me.

I don’t have a solution. 

Do you ever feel the same?