The magic of Active Listening

At last, a light goes on

So, I went for my drive yesterday, after I got done with my Big Task of the Day. I stopped and got myself a snack, then headed out on the roads, just driving. The sun was out, and I had my music on, and the more I drove, the more awake and alert I felt. (I guess sitting at the computer for six hours straight kind of numbed me out.)  I took turns down roads I normally don’t have the time to explore, and I meandered around my town and the neighboring towns for some time. Eventually, I found myself driving up the side of a mountain to a hiking trail I had heard people talk about. It was getting late in the afternoon, and rain was threatening, but I decided to head up, anyway. Even if it rained, no biggie. I was probably going to get pretty sweaty from the climb, anyway. A little rain might be nice, actually.

So, I parked near the trailhead, outside the gates, which were supposed to be already closed, I grabbed my phone (just in case), and headed up the side of the mountain. I didn’t have the right shoes on a pair of Tevas, which I suppose would be okay, but weren’t really suited for heavy hiking. But I went up, anyway. I figured, people have been climbing up sides of mountains a lot longer than state-of-the-art hiking shoes have been in existence. Besides, if things got too hairy, I could always climb back down.

Not where I was, but it looks like it

It turned out to be a pretty good hike. Took me about an hour to get up and back down. The trail was steep, but it had plenty of options for hikers of different abilities. I crossed paths with a number of people, either going up or coming down. Several pairs of women, looking like harried mothers who grabbed an hour for themselves to go for a hike and talk about their lives… an older couple, the woman looking tired and eager to get down, and her husband/partner looking like he was really enjoying the hike… an extended family of kids, parents, grandparents… and a lone guy with a military haircut who was running up and down the side of the mountain, boulders and rocks and roots and all.

It was a rigorous hike. Half-way up, I seriously considered turning back and heading to the car. But I could see the summit from where I was and, dammit, I was outside on the one sunny day we’d had in over a week, so I wasn’t going to waste the experience. So, I kept on. Got to the top. Looked to the west and the setting sun. Then headed back down very, very carefully and got off the mountain just as the first raindrops were coming down.

So, what does all this have to do with active listening? I’m talking about hiking, right? Well, kind of. See, one of the most remarkable parts about yesterday was that I was able to interact with people on the trail. I actually exchanged words with them, had little conversations with them. Like normal. Like I never had before I started working with my neuropsych. In years gone by, I would have averted my eyes and not said anything to the people I encountered. What’s more, in years gone by, I would have avoided going on a hike by myself, because I was too anxious about getting lost and not being able to ask for help. That hike yesterday, and how much it improved my mood and sense of well-being, was made possible by my new-found ability to communicate with people.

Silenced by my own choice

See, here’s the thing. I used to be completely, 100% convinced that I could not communicate with other people. Seriously. It was to the point where I (and others) considered myself a slight bit autistic. I just wouldn’t voluntarily talk to people at great length or in any depth. I would get lost in the conversations. I would forget what we were talking about. I would react strangely, and say things I didn’t mean to say. I just did not do a very good job of communicating, even though I did a pretty good imitation. What was really going on was I was pretending to talk to people, but the minute the conversations were over, I’d put them out of my mind or dismiss them.

Knowing what I know now about the effects of multiple TBIs on working memory and short-term memory and my susceptibility to distraction, I realize now that I simply was not fully engaged in conversations with people for most of my life. When I was a kid, I had trouble hearing, and I didn’t feel comfortable asking for clarification, so I decided to interpret things the way I wanted to, not based on feedback from others. And I got in the habit of doing that. As I got older, and I had more head injuries, my working memory capacity apparently shrank, and I would literally forget what people had just said to me a few minutes before. And/or in the midst of the conversation, I would get distracted and lose the train of the conversation.

This still happens, in fact. It hasn’t improved, I’m sorry to say. However, now I have a way to deal with it. It’s called “Active Listening” and it’s when y0u are fully engaged in a conversation with someone, repeating what they say to you, and asking for clarification when you don’t understand something.  It’s not about covering up my cluelessness. It’s about getting clarification because I actually care about what people are saying to me, and I want to understand.

Active Listening really, truly is amazing. It’s changed my life. Even when I am struggling with terrible distractability (as I often do), and I’m susceptible to short-term interference, and I’m forgetting what someone just said a few minutes ago… when I engage with the person I’m talking to and I make sure I understand what they are saying asking for clarification and repeating back what I think they said I can actually “get” what’s going on. I can understand what people are saying to me. I can get it. I get it.

Which is totally amazing. As recently as five years ago, I was convinced that I was a lost cause, when it came to communication. I was off in my own private Idaho, off in my own little (and I mean little) world, telling myself that I was incapable of engaging in extended conversations.

But then my neuropsych got talking to me, and I started to interact with them. They gave me space to ask (what seemed like) really stupid questions even say “I don’t understand,” and have it not be a federal offense. All my life, I never felt comfortable admitting that I didn’t understand what people were saying to me. But I remember so clearly, the first time I can ever recall admitting that I didn’t understand what was being said to me (by my neuropsych). And I remember how much of a relief it was, just to say it. Kind of like cycling stars admitting that they’ve been doping regularly for years. Something that was so taboo, just getting said. And once I did admit that, and I was able to get clarification, a light went on. And that light began to shine and shine and widen and widen and gradually came to illuminate my whole life in ways I never dreamed possible.

People WANT to be talked with

What I learned was that people would NOT think poorly of me, if I admitted I wasn’t following what they were saying. What matters is that I’m attempting to understand. Apparently, a lot of people don’t make the effort. But I do. Absolutely, I do, now that I realize that I can. It’s not that I can’t understand. It’s that my brain has been rewired to “drop” things far more quickly than I’d like (or often think it will), and I’m prone to getting distracted in the middle of a conversation, so small wonder that I get lost at times. It’s not that I’m deficient or stupid. It’s that I’m distractable, and I don’t factor in my working memory capacity (or lack thereof) when I’m talking to people.

When I do factor in those aspects of my existence, however, I am free of them. Because I can manage to them. I can be aware of them, and I can deal with them. And when I sense I’m not getting something that someone is saying to me, I can always pause the flow of the discussion and get clarification.

As a matter of fact, I’ve discovered that a lot of people actually love it when I stop the flow to ask for clarification. People like to talk. They like to be heard. They like to know they’re being heard. So, no, they don’t mind stopping to explain. They rather enjoy it, in fact.

When I let that happen – get out of my own way and forget about looking “stupid” to people because I need clarification – good things happen. A lot. Things like going out for drives and hikes in the woods, because I know that whatever happens, I’ll be able to ask for help (directions, instructions, tips, whatever) if I need it. Things like passing conversations exchanged (like a normally social person) on a trail in the woods on a beautiful day.

And when I interact with other people, I can develop myself further. Because I need to. I think it’s true of everyone, but I’m working my way back from a serious developmental deficit that arose in large part from my perceived inability to communicate with others.  I haven’t just been a “quiet” person all my life. I’ve been a deliberately silent person. Because I would get lost during conversations. And I couldn’t take the chance of anyone finding out. And I couldn’t figure out how to get un-lost. Not on my own.

So many years spent in fearful silence, terrified that someone would find out that I didn’t understand what was going on… that I would find out that I didn’t understand what was going on, because I didn’t realize I’d gotten off track, about 10 minutes ago, and I didn’t have a clear idea about what was really being discussed.

Those days are done. I know what to do now. I can go for a drive. I can go for a hike. I can live my life.

Like never before.