Why Am I Talking?
In this blog I share what a lunch with a new friend taught me about the reasons we speak, and why asking one simple question changes how I show up in conversations.
-Amber Long
I was mid-sentence at lunch when I thought, why am I talking?
A new friend had asked me what benefits I'd noticed since I started drinking mushroom coffee. My mom raves about it, so I gave it a try. I started answering, and somewhere in the middle I jumped ship and started telling her about a new morning routine that had been helping my energy. She hadn't asked about that. Not even a little.
A couple of hours later, the self-talk showed up. What were you thinking? You're such a moron.
I'm going to be real honest with you. I kicked myself for a while.
Then I stopped and got curious instead. Why did I say that?
I was five days into a routine that was actually getting me through my days, and nobody knew I was doing it. I was excited. I wanted to share something real with someone new in my life. That's a healthy reason to talk.
So I stopped calling myself names and kept the lesson.
Four Reasons We Speak
I started thinking about all the reasons we say the things we say. Have you ever talked to convince someone? To prove someone wrong? To hear "good job"? To defend yourself? To apologize? I've done every one of those, and I'm sure I'm not alone.
When I looked at the whole list, I could sort it into four categories:
To inform: sharing information, clarifying, coordinating.
To connect: sharing what's in your heart, understanding someone, repairing a break.
To influence: making a request, persuading, solving a problem.
To manage or control: getting a certain response, shaping how someone sees you, steering their emotions.
None of these is bad. The goal isn't to purify our motives. The goal is to be aware of them, because our communication sharpens when we're honest about the outcome we're hoping for.
The Van Ride Home
Here's the example that really got me.
My boys are freshmen, and they were invited to a party after homecoming. I did the mom thing. I asked the questions, talked with another parent, and we had a plan. Then I gave myself ninety seconds to talk with the boys, because I know I can over-explain, and they were not going to have it.
I told them that if anyone or anything at that party made them uncomfortable, they could call me. Any time, no matter what. I reminded them who they are and that they should act like it.
I was proud of myself. This is new territory for me, and I stayed calm and present instead of future-tripping about everything that could go wrong.
My husband wasn't home for any of those conversations, so that evening I told him what I'd done. And Eric said nothing.
It got under my skin.
So I stepped back and asked myself why I'd been talking. If I'd truly only wanted to share information, his silence would have meant I succeeded. He heard it. He had no questions. Done.
But I wanted a high five. I wanted to hear that I'm the best mom ever. I wanted to be seen as competent in this new season of mothering high schoolers.
If you had been in the van with us, I would have told you I was just getting us on the same page. I really believed that.
Here's the part I want you to hear.
Wanting validation from my husband isn't wrong. But once I knew that was my motive, I had choices. I could ask him for it directly. I could validate myself. I could feel disappointed for ninety seconds and let it go. That's what I chose.
I had a choice because I was aware.
What I Control
Awareness helps me separate what I want from what I actually control.
I control how clearly and honestly I communicate.
I control whether I make the request.
I don't control whether you understand me, agree with me, or think I'm a good mom.
Over-explaining is where this shows up for me. I notice I keep talking when I haven't gotten the response I'm hoping for. If I can just say it one more way, they'll finally get it, and then I can stop. Hi, I'm Amber, and I over-explain.
I did go through a couple of days after that lunch thinking, I just talk too much, I'm done talking. That was not the lesson.
Sharing my heart isn't the problem. I just want to know what I'm hoping for before I open my mouth.
Side by Side
I have a friend couple who always sit on the same side of the booth when they go out to eat. Even when it's just the two of them. It looks a little awkward, and I love it.
They're shoulder to shoulder, looking at what's in front of them together.
That's how I want to communicate. Whatever the issue is in the relationship or the family, we look at it side by side instead of from opposite ends.
Where This Leaves You
Think of a recent conversation that didn't go the way you wanted, and ask yourself:
What was I really hoping would happen when I said that?
Which part of that outcome actually belongs to me?
If I knew I couldn't control the response, what would I still want to say?
And when someone responds in a way you didn't hope for, here's what I tell my daughter when she's working through her relationships.
You're collecting data.
Share what's true for you and what your boundary is, see how they respond, and then decide what you want to do with that data.
She comes to me now and says, "Mom, I have more data." And I say, perfect.
You only own your part of the conversation, and you really do get to own it. What the other person does with it belongs to them.
If any part of this stirred something up for you, send me a message. I'd love to hear what you're discovering.
