I Don’t Have to Say Everything I Think

Half a century ago or longer, some women described struggling to find their voice. They’d been so socialized to be sweet and accommodating, they scarcely knew who they truly were, much less how to express it. I couldn’t relate. In my smart and vocal family of origin, at times my only choices were to agree or be wrong. But given the opportunity to write or say something of my own, wow, did I jump at the chance!

It took years and experience to realize more is not always better. Though I’ve always tried to be both honest and kind, other criteria came later. Is it necessary? Is it helpful? In my first job in the corporate sector, I made the mistake of challenging my boss publicly about a matter we’d already discussed, on which I’d been overruled. In my former academic setting, arguing a minor point forever was perfectly normal.

Interrupting is an unfortunate habit I’m still trying to tame. The childlike fear resurfaces that I’ll never get my turn unless I barge in. Another is taking the role of devil’s advocate. Multiple perspectives fascinate me. How could someone in another time or place or culture see things so differently from me and the people around me? I’m learning that a friend distraught with anger or fear may need a quiet listener more than a curious explorer. She may need my understanding more than my efforts to fix or guide her.

“To everything there is a season . . . A time to keep silence, and a time to speak.” (Eccles. 3:1, 7) I don’t have to say everything I’m thinking.

Image: Photo by Patrick Fore on Unsplash.