She Heard Me

I have a great big family, and in that great big family I am the youngest.  Between my mom and dad, I have 19 aunts and uncles and a ton of first cousins.  I have five older brothers and sisters. And, to take it a step further, I have the honor and privilege of being the youngest grandchild on both sides of my family.  As a result, I am named after both my paternal and maternal grandmothers (Bernice and Susie). So as you are probably assuming, yes, I am spoiled.  Not rotten, but spoiled.  I often tell my siblings that I am their favorite youngest sibling, which also means I am their least favorite youngest sibling, but we don’t dwell on that last fact, lol.  I am the epitome of being the baby of the family, and I love it.

As you can imagine, growing up in this big family, it was often loud.  Be it laughter, singing, picking on, fussing at, and everything in between, it was loud.  To be heard, in a family of this size, one needed to be able to be loud.  As the youngest of the crew, I especially felt like I had to be loud, to be heard.  I wanted my voice to take up as much space and hold as much weight as everyone else’s.  I refused to be overlooked or ignored, and I did my best to keep that from ever happening.  Interestingly enough, I did not realize how physically loud we were, as a family, until the weekend of my college graduation. That weekend my husband had the “pleasure” of being in my dorm room with most of my immediate family as we laughed and talked.  In the chaos of it all, I did not realize that at some point in the conversation my father jokingly plugged his ears while looking at my husband as he sat by quietly taking it all in.

Later that night, we talked about how different our families were.  Whereas his mom and dad were much more introverted and soft spoken, my family seemed to be in competition with one another to see who was the loudest.  He jokingly noted that we would all talk over each other louder and louder until we managed to take control of the floor, and got the attention of everyone else.  I had never noticed it.  Loud was the volume that my life had always been set at, since I could remember.  Anything else, normally went unnoticed.  

As I have thought about what it means to be truly heard, I have come to realize that it is not about volume, but about understanding.  As a therapist, I get to not just listen to people, but to hear them.  To hear what is said and what is not.  To read body language, facial expressions, and/or their moods.  I get to take it all in and fill in the pages of who these people are in order to better understand who they are, why they show up in the world the way that they do, and get a handle on how to help guide them to a place of healing.  This is a beautiful dance that I get to do with people who often do not feel understood, within their personal context.

Consider this, do you feel like people know of you or do they know who you are?  This may seem like a strange question, but for someone to know of you versus knowing you hits very differently.  For many years I worked to be physically heard by speaking loudly, being funny, quick witted, and intelligent.  I could “work a room” and “work the people” in the room.  In reflecting back, I realized that I really did not feel heard or rather known.  People heard my voice, but did not hear my heart.  I would often be in a room full of people, smiling and laughing, yet did not really feel connected because it felt as though the heart of who I am was not who people were interested in.  They were interested in how I could make them feel, not how I was feeling. 

Learning to quiet myself physically so that I could speak to how I am feeling has been a journey.  I am great at hearing other people, but had to put in real work to value my voice and be willing to share it.  Recently, I had a really hard week.  I called one of my sister-friends and asked to stop by, for a second.  Without hesitation, she said yes, and I headed towards her house. As I drove up, I saw her sweeping her porch, and she met me in the driveway.  She immediately asked, “What’s up?”  I simply said, “I just needed a hug”.  She stood there and hugged me tight and loved me. I did not have to yell, scream, be funny, or engaging.  I simply was able to ask for what I needed, and my big sis loved on me and met and exceeded my heart’s need.  She heard me.  The gift of hearing my heart and hearing the words that I could not yet string together was a offering that I will eternally be grateful for.  What I hope you take from this is that being heard will fill parts of your heart that you did not even realize were empty.  Learn to allow people to fill those spaces.  The healing is worth the vulnerability.

It is so vital that you own your voice and use it to advocate for yourself.  Your feelings, thoughts, and experiences matter.  It is so easy to lose track of your voice in the hustle and bustle of life.  If you are not careful, you can fall victim to not only being silenced by others, but you can unconsciously begin to silence yourself.  You have to appreciate yourself and see your needs as not just worthwhile, but worth fighting for.  You are worth the disruption of the preconceived notions of who people believe you should be.  Sometimes you may have to make some noise and raise your voice to be heard, and there is no shame in that.  Speak up and ask for what you need.  You’re worth it.

So this week, I want you to journal through these questions.  What and who helps you to feel heard?  What gets in the way of you feeling heard?  What are you willing and able to do to increase being heard on a regular basis?  How can you demonstrate to the people in your life that you hear them?  Finally, what needs do you have that you can share with the people you love and give them an opportunity to meet?  Until next time, family.  Love you!