What Am I Really Afraid Of?

While listening to a person who is telling a long story, I try not to think of what I want to say during the monologue but to just fully absorb the words and form a mental picture in my mind of the exact scene. A good story teller can make you want to do this by interacting with your imagination.

          But have you ever listened intently to someone and they talk on and on but you can't grasp the meaning of what they are saying? Even worst, in order to signal to you that they don't want you to say a word during the monologue, you hear, "well anyways," where any possibility of a natural pause might occur. They say this catch-all phrase and take a short breath and then continue on, their thoughts running off in all directions.

            Now, if you do try to interject anywhere during their speech or diatribe, you'll hear, "excuse me!", and they'll give you an odd, confused look and start the next part of their one-way "conversation" with , "Well anyhow...as I was saying..." and babble on.

            I'm not saying that I don't enjoy listening to a story being told because I do. I can listen to someone tell me about their past, or a recent trip and I don't find a need to say a word because I really want to hear about these things. With most people, I know at some point the monologue will turn into a conversation. I love interaction, especially with a good conversation.

           

            But these folks I'm talking about are what I call "single dialoguers." They want to be both sides of a conversation. And, because they don't even seem to realize you are there listening to them go on, they are very bad story tellers. There are parts of their uninterrupted speech that you can't quite understand. Sometimes, they will interject a third person into their monologue and you have no idea who this person is or how they fit into the story. Since the single dialoguer is really only rehashing this event in their own heads and have no need for details, they fail to explain. So, you wait for a pause, keeping the question in your head until you get your chance to slip something in. At the first inkling of a pause, you attempt to quickly squeeze in your question by slightly interrupting.

            "Was this guy Bart in college with you and Stan?"

            That gets you a hot-headed look and a "what?" stated pretty rudely from the long-winded single dialoguer as though he were climbing up a ladder and you pulled it out from under him. For a more dramatic effect, he has a slight squint as though he has a headache or is straining to hear as he looks at you. You are left staring back, thinking about how to explain what you were asking about since it's already been forgotten. The single dialoguer shakes his head back and forth as though you have knocked him so far out of his line of thinking that he may never recover. He mutters a half-word like "uhmph," takes a long deep breath that sounds kind of dejected—sincerely hoping he has embarrassed you enough to prevent you from intervening in the future—and starts up again, "Well as I was saying..."  He continues on as though nothing happened.

            And on, and on, and on. Until you turn yourself off. 

            I have tried all different kinds of methods to deal with these single dialoguers because they can be important people in your lives and as close to you as immediate family or even some long-term friends. The thing I've learned over the years is that the better skilled you can get at counteracting adversity the better off you'll be because the other guy most likely isn't going to change.

            I've tried using the "I'm sorry, I drifted off for a moment" ploy. "Who was that Bart again?" and gotten the angry stare.

.

            I've tried the mid-rant coughing spree and gotten the annoyed look.

            I've tried to mentally hold all my questions in my mind as the speech goes on hoping to have a chance to ask them and catch up later, and I always forget them.

            And I've even tried opening a notebook and writing all my questions down so I can actually remember them all and ask to try to make sense out of the monologue later, some day. This just causes me to look deranged.

            Nothing stops a single-dialoguer. As long as you are in the same room, anyway.

            Since none of these methods have ever worked sufficiently enough to make me understand these scatterbrained monologues, I've mostly just learned to look ahead blankly (but with a slight enough smile to seem present.) I absorb a few words here and there, but mostly just find pleasure in drifting off into a comfortable meditative daydream. I never gain any lasting confidence in the ability to converse with a single dialoguer. I think these single sided talkers are  just happy to have the speaker's podium. I've felt pretty isolated while in the presence of these types of people. You know, the feeling of being along even though you are with someone?

            It's negative incidents like these that can teach you even more than by learning through positive reinforcement. I pride myself on thinking about all the different things I come across and how I respond to them. If you tell me about yourself I'm going to learn something. It may be what to do about a problem or even what NOT to do about something but a thought will break through the brain barrier, eventually. That's how I grow.

            Which is why I am so afraid of losing my hearing as I cross over into the downward curve of a profound, degenerative loss. "Listening" has been such a huge part of my life and the entire basis of what's shaped me, if you think about it. It's been a constant flood of interactions, one right after another that has taught me the most.

            Helen Keller once said that being blind cuts you off from things, but being deaf cuts you off from people. I truly hope that the electronic boom the world has seen since her time has changed that. I hope that the vibration of sound can make its way to my head in other ways than the pathway of the ear. I pray that my visual capabilities can step up to the task to keep me connected. I am trying so very hard to reason with this predicament.

            Of course, the silver lining? The single dialoguers will never know that I'm no longer listening and I won't even have to pretend. A simple glance to the right or left, out of eyesight will shut them off completely, a reaction they have rightly earned, so I won't feel bad about it.

            I'm going to be doing a lot of soul-searching and introspective thinking during my ordeal and I hope it gives me the same rewards that I have gleaned from my "hearing" self. I guess time will tell. 

            Here-in lies the basis of our connection to each other and our willingness to accept each other's differences. I hope this phenomenon looks down on me favorably.