I don't mean to be awkward, but...

I know I said from the outset with this blog that I never intend to present myself as an all-knowing, all-seeing, omnipotent being who has all the answers to life’s problems (disclaimer: no such person exists). But this is really and truly the first piece I have written where I am acknowledging from the get-go that I grapple hugely with the issue I’m about to discuss, and I don't just mean a 'general' struggle - I'm talking about the actual present. Today’s topic is: having awkward conversations.


The minute you read that, I guarantee a chill went down your spine. And why wouldn’t it? Humans HATE having awkward discussions. Our palms go sweaty at the mere thought of it. Our hearts race, our mouths go dry, our breathing becomes shallow. Some of us (ahem, me) are almost on the verge of tears before we’ve even begun. Why is this?


I am currently reading ‘Daring Greatly’ by BrenĂ© Brown, gifted to me at Christmas by a good friend. Brown is a shame- and vulnerability-researcher (make of that what you will) and talks about exactly this kind of stuff: fears of being our true, authentic selves, feeling anxious about letting our guards down, and voicing how we really feel. While vulnerability is a very multi-layered subject, and although I am only halfway through the book at the time of writing, what I have picked up from it so far is that, in general, we fear being vulnerable because we think we will be judged, shamed, or disconnected from others. We are afraid to be seen, for fear of rejection. But it is by being brave enough to take that step to genuinely engage with others in honest, painful, vulnerable conversations that we build on our relationships and grow in the first place. The whole time I’m reading ‘Daring Greatly’, I’m like “omg yes of course, this makes so much sense!” and “wow, I’m going to be SO courageous the next time it comes to a big conversation and just say exactly how I feel without any fear”. Needless to say, this does not happen in the moment.



In my own life right now, I definitely have 2-3 people with whom I need to have big, scary, vulnerable conversations, and the reason I know I should have them or need to have them is because the not-doing-so is quietly eating me up inside and haunting my existence. Outside of that core group, there are probably a few more people who I know I need to apologise to or confront about something (and for the record I hate using the word ‘confront’ or ‘confrontation’ because it seems aggressive and polarising, and I really don’t mean it that way). But just the thoughts of having these conversations send fear coursing through my body, accompanied of course by mental images of the world ending because I chose to have this encounter in the first place. I find too that, while straddling the fence of ‘will-I-won’t-I’, my mind starts to plan what I will say or how to bring up the conversation topic, and even just mentally going through the motions gives me clammy armpits. Am I on my own in that regard or can I get an ‘Amen’?


Having said all that, the more I read books and articles, and the more I go through life myself, the stronger my convictions are becoming that the tough conversations, the words that are the hardest to say, the experiences at which we balk the most, are really the ones that will contribute to our growth as an individuals. I think back on those times I was brave enough to approach someone who had hurt me (which in the moment had me up in a heap) and look! Turns out I’m still alive! The world didn’t become submerged in a raging inferno as I had initially feared! I say all of that in jest of course but what I mean is that I can stand here today, knowing I was in a place of uncertainty and fear of judgment at the time, and somehow was still able to dig deep enough to give voice to the thoughts swirling around my mind, rather than shying away as I so often do, letting ‘if-onlys’ and ‘should-haves’ fester for months (and even years). I have done it before, which means I should be able to do it again.


Regret is a powerful thing. It can haunt us, like a spectre, be it for things we did or for things we didn’t do. I guess it comes down to what we each think will give us closure. Will it come from an honest dialogue with that other person, gut-wrenching and terror-inducing though that may be, or from working through the issue ourselves, without risking it all? This blog post isn’t even really about advice, to be honest, or about overcoming this inherent fear of being vulnerable (that we all have to some degree), because I myself am not in a place right now where I can speak to that. This road I’m on has a few more twists, turns, bumps and potholes that I need to navigate and work through first before I find the courage somewhere along the way to be truly vulnerable, the way I know I need to be if I am ever to experience humanity at its fullest.

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