Fear and Loathing (and conversations)

5 minute read + 7 minute listen

Recently, I’ve found myself being hyper self-critical around how I conduct myself in conversations. From brief chats at the school gate to dinner with friends, I’m fretting and regretting every bit of advice given and tidbit shared. Did I listen properly to what they had to say? Like, really listen? It’s wrecking my head.

I feel it must be a Covid thing. Is it a Covid thing? Two years marooned on unsocial-island can’t have helped anyone’s conversation skills. I have became accustomed to communicating purely on my own terms – I only answer messages and emails when it suits me, or, if I do want to chat, I set up a ‘call time’, agree it with the person I want to chat to and we take it from there. Even as I type I am aware of how excruciatingly boring this approach is…

Impromptu chats that once happened outside the shop or with neighbours got replaced with scheduled Zoom calls (my siblings and I recently commented on how we haven’t seen as much of each other since!) and with a total lack of ‘news’, there really was little to communicate about. Apart from sharing a plethora of memes, with accompanying emojis, I ended up rarely speaking to anyone outside my child-filled bubble for days on end.

And a two year (and counting) pandemic makes you consider others more. We all became so acutely aware of the tough circumstances many people found themselves in during lockdown that the last thing any of us wants to do is hurt somebody else’s feelings. Which is fantastic empathetically speaking, but can make for an emotionally-fraught minefield when it comes to even the quickest of encounters.

Along with my own, I do worry about the world’s collective communication skills. Technology allows me to keep in vague touch with lots of people. But deeper, more meaningful connection is the stuff of real value.

The face-to-face meet ups, the hugs, the meaningful chats are the really nourishing stuff. It’s easy to look to the past with rose-tinted glasses, but most of us can remember a time when conversation skills were much exercised and savoured. My grandmother’s house was rarely left wanting when it came to callers of all ages dropping in. Even the insurance man got a cup of tea and a rundown of the local goings on. My Granny didn’t have a phone until the nineties, so all news was garnered in person without, I suspect, the self-loathing I’ve taken it upon myself to indulge in after my much scarcer interactions.

This self-loathing is heavily interlaced with guilt, for good measure. And let me tell you, this awful communication guilt is multi-layered. Firstly, in an age when messaging has overtaken talking, I think we all feel we should be communicating to a higher standard with loved ones. I can’t count the number of times it’s occurred to me that I should just pick up the phone to call a friend or my Godfather or an ex-work colleague for a catch up… but a weird kind of procrastination sets in. What if they’re busy and can’t talk? Or worse – what if they talk for way too long and I can’t get them off the phone and I miss playschool pick-up? And I’m obviously not alone in this as nobody telephones me any more either. In fact, if anybody did I would either assume there was very bad news coming my way or cancel the call with a mental note to call them back later – which I won’t do because, well, see above regarding my fear of never-ending phone conversations – all leading me to feel absolutely awful about my tardy phone-call returning manner for a good two to three months.

And the guilt doesn’t stop there. With all I now read about how to be a good listener (80% of which comes from instagram, 20% from well-intentioned podcasts) I now depart from conversations berating myself for being too overbearing, for not listening well enough and constantly chucking my two-pence ha’penny in when the other person obviously had something to get off their chest.

My mind goes to terrible places. I ponder why I’m so annoying and question if this person will ever talk to me again? And why, in general, am I such a terrible, ego-centric, megalomaniac?

You get the picture.

I am aware that this sudden spike in self-awareness is exceptionally self-indulgent. I mean, logically I feel I can’t be messing up that much and if I do, the vast majority of people I interact with either don’t notice anyway or will – at worst – pass me off as annoying and self-absorbed. It’s not the end of the world. But it is most certainly another modern-day point of anxiety which is new to me. And who needs any more points of anxiety? I literally feel it’s paralysis by analysis. If conversations, however casual, are giving me the heebie-jeebies then I need to get on top of it, pronto.

The isolation which we all experienced, in its very essence, was a cutting off from connection and from the people we love. It’s harder to feel loved when you’re isolated, and I think I’m feeling the repercussions of all the social distancing. I am dissecting my interactions more now, because I just want to be accepted and to be a good friend and someone that people are pleased to talk to. When you’re apart from people it’s easy to mix up not seeing your friends with actually being friendless, to feel like everyone was at a party that you happened to miss. But the truth is we all missed the party, and we’re all out of practice. We’re all going to feel weird being social for a while.

Anyway, I’m going to attempt to stop beating myself up about it – less scrutiny of my actions, more empathy. And, in the absence of meeting up with people, I’m going to make more phone calls – I’m going to talk more to the people I love and I will start today. Or maybe tomorrow. Or at a time that suits us both… how is 8 pm next Wednesday looking for you?