Fireworks
My husband accuses me of talking just because I can.
My son tells me I don’t have to fill in all the gaps of each conversation.
My daughter tells me quite consistently that I make everything about myself.
That’s my whole nuclear family, and they’re right, because I do.
“I’d chime in with my similar experience.”
Yup, always doing that one too. Even worse, sometimes I can’t wait to tell what I feel could be a better story. I butt in with it, interrupting the other party and stealing their thunder; taking the shine off their story, their words.
Jeez, I feel sick.
Pondering on that while reflecting on your response, I know I need to start taking your advice.
“Listen just to listen-not to reply!” I needed to hear, no truly listen to that.
Your response over a year ago may have not have made a huge impact straight away, but it has made an impact this morning.
I’m horrified by my past actions. Your words have brought me really low, but they’ve also put a firecracker underneath my back end. And it’s gone off.
What you have achieved, I hope, is to make me a better person in my future relationships. Some one who listens more than she talks.
A woman who can take in the experience others have without trying to override them. Without interjecting my claim to fame in a stupid game of one-upmanship. Without always competing for the most attention around the table.
I came to Medium this morning to write my own stuff, and got reading instead. I’m leaving it now as one who realises what a rude show-off I’ve been in the past. A person who might be able to make amends with those I love who, despite everything, still love me.
It’s possible you have given me the tools I needed to change my life.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart Nina Hanson.
No small cookies, but fireworks as big as on New Years Eve.
