A blog or two ago I spoke of how
I was always meant to help others, do you remember reading that? It’s okay if you don’t, half the time I don’t
pay attention to what I write either.
But today it easily comes to mind because that fact has been more
solidified than before due to certain events.
There we were sitting in a
meeting and two of my colleagues became…well let me use the word ‘snippy’ just
to be polite. They were most certainly
not enjoying each other’s opinions and the tension in the room could be cut
with a knife. I looked about thinking, “this won’t do” and decided to speak up
as sort of a mediator, the voice of reason.
Admittedly the two parties were
far too worked up to really be soothed but I gave it a try and even if it didn’t
work this time, normally it does. I
consider this but a minor setback in my general pursuit of good doing. Later though, two sought me out to ask me my
opinion and I played the Devil’s Advocate role that I embrace with glee. Tempers calmed, egos were put on the back
burner and a sort of truce was called.
Besides this noble work of being
the mediator in most cases, I also think I have an uncanny ability to read
people. Have you done that? Do you even know what that means? I’ve had various individuals through my life
tell me that I’m far too ‘nice’ and that the fact that I give most people the
benefit of the doubt is misguided as well as foolish. I agree with them, or rather I would agree
with them if I didn’t know myself well enough.
That’s not what I do. What I really
do when I meet someone new is get a read on them, by various things they say
and don’t say. Usually within a few
minutes I have a fairly accurate read on what type of person they are. And it’s 95% on point. I don’t believe that’s a bad number. Crazy enough even my friends have come to
realize that I’m pretty good at this because a few have insisted I meet their
potential significant others just so I can ‘read’ them. I always agree but addendum anything I say
with, “I’m not always right, you need to
do your own due diligence”.
I’ve spoken to you all a lot
about my childhood. I was a quiet child,
you know this; may be not at home, actually definitely not at home, but in
school, yea. I was quiet. Naturally with certain distinct friends I
opened up however, for the most part I just didn’t feel comfortable opening my
mouth. And truly, most didn’t want to
hear me anyhow so learning to be quiet was sort of a forced thing.
Of course like so many of the popular
kids I wanted to be invited to parties, be asked to go out after school, have
some awkward boy somewhere ask me to a dance, even if I had to say no. I craved attention and admiration which I
never quite received. Do I blame it on
my color? Partially. I was often the ‘unknown’ particle and
possibly a strange bit mysterious (a fact I found out more recently by a good
FB friend). Back then I just thought
people didn’t like me. Far too many
outside factors led to this belief and as a child logically I would take it all
at face value. Couple that with a
brother who was in fact very popular and parents who were as well amongst
friends and society and I was the true outlier.
I’m not even sure if they, to this day, realize that’s what happened to
me as a child. To them I was always
happy and chatty and chirpy.
Being so quiet at school was
directly proportionate to how loud I could be at home. I was a ball of energy zooming around like a demented
hyper bee bugging my parents. I never
sat down unless it was to read in which case I wouldn’t get up. Reading became my alternate life. I lived through those characters. I was them. I took on their lives. I was a bookworm.
But back to what I was originally
saying…so yea, being quiet was something that was totally against my basic
characteristic but a necessity nonetheless.
No one really sought me out to play or to talk. I was a bit of a stigma in many ways and as
groups in gym or other activities were formed, I was often left out, even by my
closest ‘friends’. It was almost like
those who I thought were near to me, were ashamed to admit it. Not cool.
And this, in essence, is when I began to listen. Not just be quiet. And at the age of 5 or 6,
that was not easy to say the least.
Have you ever tried to sit back
and observe it all without uttering a word?
It’s pretty hard. For most of us
there is a great need to speak, often without thought (much the pity). But did you ever realize how empowering
listening can be? Due to a severe lack
of friends, I had no choice so instead of contributing I would sit and listen,
and listen, and listen. And you know
what? I heard a lot of interesting
things, but I equally observed a lot of remarkable stuff and most importantly I
learned to pay attention to all the ‘in-between’. The secret of being an adept observer is that
all the clues to how someone truly is often can be found in the intonation, the
pauses, the inaudible unspoken verses, the sighs, the timed blinks of
eyelashes, the slope of shoulders, whatever happens after the conversation is
done. I tuned into these things. I learned to think outside the advice box
because sometimes, something said just wasn’t helping and I saw that more than
heard it.
May be at one point I wanted someone
to really look at me and see the pain behind the quiet but that never happened,
and to some extent it still doesn’t. I
promised, however, that I would never do that.
I would reach out to those who needed it; I would look past any façade and
see what was really going on, even in the stillness.
Two jobs ago, a close girlfriend
called me one night hysterically sobbing.
I ran to her side, picked her up and found out between sobs that her
boyfriend had cheated on her; it was over.
As any good gal pal worth her salt, I brought her home and in-between
hugs and sympathetic nods, I listened to the whole story. I didn’t add my 2 cents at that point; it
would have done no good anyhow. Instead I
let her sob it all out until she fell asleep.
Two days later I finally gave her
my POV. What was it? The details are now unimportant but I can
assure you I supplied her plenty of food for thought. And like any break ups tend to go, there were
lots of ups and downs that she went through.
There wasn’t a day for nearly 8 months that she didn’t come into my
office and not cry. We talked about ‘him’
endlessly but I kept up my own rhetoric.
I pointed out to her those things that she most certainly wasn’t seeing,
particularly her part in the demise of the relationship (she had plenty).
Finally, she decided to get
professional help, to work through the confusion in her head and may be learn
how to get past it. So off she went to a
therapist, giving me a hug before leaving and assuring me that she would fill
me in after it was all said and done.
Several hours later as I was working diligently (probably more on the
lines of stalking someone on FB) she walks in and closes the door to my office. Her coat was still on and she looked a bit
agitated.
Come to find out, the therapist,
after having heard all of my girl’s troubles, had given her some theory/advice
(as therapists are want to do) and each one was countered with, “oh Rubi already told me this months ago”.
After enough of this sort of
response on the part of my friend, the therapist looked at her and allegedly
said just before ending the first session, “seems
to me like you should have listened to your friend Rubi, you didn’t even need
me, you should go pay her.”
I won’t lie, secretly I was
absolutely delighted. It was a lovely
compliment.
My girlfriend asked me, rather
demanded to know, how in the world I was so adept at cluing into the real issue,
asking the right questions, even throwing out off the wall theories that
actually weren’t so very ‘off the wall’.
I shrugged and said, “I listen and observe”.
So there you go, the best advice
I can possibly give: Shut up and listen.
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