Talk too Much

and not the best listener

Photo by Lewis Roberts on Unsplash

I’ve always been a bit of a loudmouth who tends to dominate the conversation when I can. I butt in. I talk over others. I can’t wait to say what I want to say, then start a rant.
It’s not good. I get other people’s stories all wrong because I don’t seem to listen as well as I should for someone my age.
So this isn’t meant to be instructional. This is my confession. What I’ve been doing all wrong for the past 59 years, since I learned to talk, and over-talk, and dominate with the words spewing out from my monkey mind. It’s not like I’m proud of being this way.
Now that I come to think about it, I must seem like a real pain in the ass to those in hearing range.
I wish I didn’t really behave like this, but unfortunately, it’s true.
Looking like I’m listening, but really prepping what I was going to say next, then going on a rant, as if I was always the most important person in the room. Come to think of it, no wonder I became a teacher who could be instructional to little kids.

Though I have to admit, most of them loved my stories. They always laughed, shared their own stories, and rolled around on the floor as if having a good time. So, I guess I wasn’t all bad.

Outgoing tips over into being too mouthy sometimes, that’s all.

I’m a bit slow on the uptake on being a rude overtalker and bad listener, though. I should have realised it wasn’t a great quality to have if you wanted to stay friends with lots of people.

I am overbearing. I am an overtalker.

I can talk to anyone in the world easily, even if I don’t speak their language. My first official full-time job was as a radio announcer. I could always talk on the air. On TV too, I’m yet to be lost for words in any situation, and have no trouble being heard, even at a rock concert.

I’m a bit loud, too. I sound obnoxious, but I’m not all bad. I blurt things out without editing them first, just like the way I write. No filters. Very full-on.

I wish I had discovered how bad I was years ago; now I feel conceited as well.
This is tougher than I thought.

Back in my teaching days, I was really good at a component of literacy called Talking and Listening. I was brilliant at getting shy or non-verbal kids to speak in front of the class, or even an audience. All my students shared News or participated in Show and Tell, even if all they ever said was:

Good morning, class, or thanks for listening.

I had a News Bear. It was a teddy that shy kindergarten kids could hold to give them a bit of confidence and comfort.

Sometimes, with the quiet, thoughtful kids, I used to hold their hand, or get their best friend to come up, hold their hand, and ask them questions. Usually, the besties would start giggling halfway through. This broke the fear. After that, they loved getting up at the front of the classroom to have a chat.

In interviews, in elevators, in emergencies, in shops, at the checkout, at parties, in restaurants, or on dates, I’ve never been stuck for something to say; I’m just that kind of person. Speech comes easily to me. I like chatting.

I’ve done some research into this talking listening thing, and I’ve seen where I’ve gone wrong all these years. So here goes on Thérèse Version 2.0, who listens before opening her big mouth as wide as the picture at the top of this post.

Listen with my eyes and ears. If what’s said is important, give it my attention. Make eye contact. Nod a little. Ask a context question if I’m not sure what’s being said without pushing, prying, or making the speaker uncomfortable.

Convey that I understand what the other person went through and how it must have made them feel. It’s not necessary to add what I would have done in that situation. Don’t make each convo all about me.

Allow the other person to lead the talking, and stay as the listener.

Don’t blab to anyone else about what is said in confidence. If someone trusts me enough to share something private, I shouldn’t betray their trust.

Everyone is sensitive about different things. Even in long-term relationships, we never know another person’s inner world. All we can do is validate their experience without being judgmental, biased, prejudiced, or probing for more when they aren’t ready to tell.

Disclosure isn’t a game of Twenty Questions.

Maybe just saying, I understand, is enough sometimes.

Don’t hurry them to quit talking about a topic that’s important to them.
Don’t think I can make things better by saying that what happened is in the past, and they don’t need to worry about it anymore.

We all have traumatic mountains to get over. I shouldn’t try to change someone else’s emotions. We each have our own coping skills; we can’t force ours on others.

I shouldn’t expect to solve their dilemma or try to take away their pain.

I have to honor the other person, and honor their experience as well.
I’m not a fixer, a priest, a rabbi, a psychologist, or a therapist.
We are mostly just friends who need to share something with us.

With anything sensitive, I need to think carefully before I speak at all.
Let others talk and finish speaking; I can always wait for my turn.
A conversation is always a two-way, but a disclosure is one-way, with a speaker and a listener.

Once is enough to say some things; saying the same thing eleven different ways is just overkill.

Not everyone, or even anyone, needs to hear my opinion. I don’t need to overshare it. I need to stop making every convo contingent on me putting in my two cents’ worth. My opinion isn’t superior to anyone else’s. It never has been.

If I rave, I’m likely to have everyone think I’m stark raving mad.
No more blabbermouthing. No more butting in. No more being an attention hog; I need to try to follow the rules of polite conversation.

I feel quite bad about being an overtalker, oversharer, and overwhelming conversation hog.

In my own defence, most of the time, I was being open, friendly, interested, curious, or concerned. It’s strange, for someone who had an early career in communications, I’ve never been the best communicator.

I hope the above rant has cured me of rampant FOOT-IN-MOUTH-DISEASE.

All I can do is try to be less of a blabbermouth and more thoughtful in my word choices. I’m going to try the old think before I speak thing.

Maybe I can become a good listener. Or talk to my desktop, laptop, phone, or TV, when there’s no one else around to get offended by words that spew out of my mouth on every occasion.

I don’t mean to offend. What else can I say but that I’m a very social creature?