Happy New Year, everyone.
Whew. It's been a while.
I've been on a bit of a communication journey this past year.
Normally, I'd like to believe I'm a pretty decent communicator. I think that words are bridges. If we put our ideas out there, others can build on them, test the durability, point out faulty design and construction, but ultimately, it can be a cooperative and transformative effort.
I like building.
I like communicating.
But something shifted last year for me, and I had a bit of a setback in the communications department.
But something shifted last year for me, and I had a bit of a setback in the communications department.
I think the first blow was blowback from a post I'd written in response to the Women's March last January. Man, I was really proud of that bridge-building post. Most of the response was supportive and positive, but a few sharp voices let me know that they could do without my bridge, thank you very much! They didn't see the need for any new building in the area. In fact, the overpass was a bit of an eyesore, bringing in the wrong kind of people. Don't build a bridge here without asking first!
Hmm.
I watched how words got picked over and taken out of context, not by everyone, but by enough. I struggled as my best intentions were misconstrued and my meaning mangled. The reconstructed sum was not the whole of my parts.
That sucked.
I experienced it professionally, too. While my main crew and I have always been good builders together, my bridge-building was having some zoning issues with the higher ups. A couple of important players perceived me as a foreman of a demolition crew.
Demolition?!
Wow.
That sucked, too.
That sucked, too.
So I made a choice to retreat and to go radio silent for a while. Save for the coveted safe spot, I went quiet.
And what I found was that my silence didn't make things better. I know I sure didn't feel better.
It seems that silence can be as easily misconstrued as words. People can - and will - fill the void with their own story for you.
Which brings me to the new year, and the resolution that I'd return and use my words.
From here on out, I'll use my words. I'll tell my own version of my story.
Yesterday in the school hallway, a passing pleasantry with a teacher-friend about our snow day turned into a real conversation about much bigger and heavier things. She shared the struggles she's been experiencing lately, and even after we hugged goodbye, she stayed with me. I got home and decided to use my words.
From here on out, I'll use my words. I'll tell my own version of my story.
Yesterday in the school hallway, a passing pleasantry with a teacher-friend about our snow day turned into a real conversation about much bigger and heavier things. She shared the struggles she's been experiencing lately, and even after we hugged goodbye, she stayed with me. I got home and decided to use my words.
Okay, I admit that I started my email to her last night after I'd had my week's-end celebratory margarita. I held off sending it to my friend then, because I wanted to reread it this morning and make sure that it didn't sound alcohol-fueled/inspired.
I found it still held up when I read it with my morning's cup of coffee. It transfers nicely, no matter what libation I'm lapping up.
I got an email reply that made me cry. I was relieved and excited that my words had landed the way I'd hoped.
All day, I've continued to mull this interaction. I'm so grateful it happened. Gotta use my words more.
Here's to a year of using words and building bridges.
Here's to a year of healing and connecting.
All day, I've continued to mull this interaction. I'm so grateful it happened. Gotta use my words more.
Here's to a year of using words and building bridges.
Here's to a year of healing and connecting.