Please stop talking
In case you haven’t noticed, Covid is not the only pandemic in our world. The obsessive need to talk about ourselves is another rampant, and apparently highly contagious, blight. For those of us who have an aversion to incessant blabbing, social distancing has turned out to be an excellent way to get away from it. Because, as Susan Cain says in her book, Quiet, We live in a world that can’t stop talking.
Jocular videos and posts appeared at the outset of Covid, announcing that social distancing was no different from the way some of us already lived. This is true for me, as I have become an introvert over the past eight years. I believe this is partly because, increasingly, I’ve found myself confronted by non-stop talkers. But I don’t really know which came first, the chicken or the egg. Was I already getting more withdrawn as I aged, or has my social life transitioned from those with whom I could have equal conversational exchanges to those who are bent on hearing only their own voices?
Many of those who know me would snort with laughter at the thought of my being withdrawn, but it’s true. I was once the solar one, the life of the party, and the more nervous and wound-up I got the more I became Carol Burnett. Alas, now, in those same social circumstances, I just seek the nearest exit, sit near the door, wish for escape and want to go home to be with my dogs and shut out all the talk.
But we must talk, you say, because life is all about communication! That’s true, say I, but surely there is a well-mannered happy medium. There must be a point at which we can meet conversationally, rather than you running at me with full tilt blabber as I quickly think up excuses to vanish.
Who among us does not know someone who cannot let a moment of silence pass without hastily filling up the space with chatter? Those who talk obsessively seem to know only one way of being with others, which is to vie for the loudest, most relentless recitation of whatever will keep anyone else from getting a word in edgewise. Why is this?
Fear abounds in this tireless babbling, I believe. There is the fear of what will come to light if we stop talking and listen, the fear of not being heard and so not recognized as valuable, the fear of hearing something that will make us feel even more inadequate than we already feel, and the fear of silence. Silence allows us self-reflection, which is really, really scary. The obsessive talker is someone who cannot be alone for fear of experiencing self. The most high-powered, high-achieving, competitive people I’ve met throughout my adult life are completely outwardly directed. To be inwardly directed at all would surely reveal them to themselves and, Heaven forfend, slow them down long enough to turn them into self-perceived losers.
While I admire high achievers, I also wonder what our earthly existence must be like without any inner life. Long ago I recognized, in a very talkative, close friend, her non-stop need to stay occupied during every waking moment rather than face the truth; that she was completely unfulfilled. As I learned her schedule of working full time and taking a workshop every night, in addition to making back-to-back plans for the weekends, at first I envied her energy and ambition. Only after I’d known her for some time did she reveal that she’d been in more than one abusive intimate relationship and had also desperately hoped for a singing career before going into education. Hence her inexorable need to fill every space with extroverted activity and chatter.
When my husband and dogs and I first moved to Florida, I was depressed from having left my family, and afflicted with a very bad ear infection. I distracted myself by becoming absorbed in memoirs, biographies and auto-biographies. So it was that I read that Spencer Tracy — beloved film actor from 1930 to 1967 — “hated” small talk. I recognized myself in that description instantly, in a real eureka moment. I might even have slapped my forehead in amazed realization. Aimless talk and aimless listening require too much energy, as does vying to be heard when someone else is monopolizing the audio.
Currently in chemotherapy, I take the noise-cancelling headphones to treatment with my iPhone, so that I can listen to peaceful meditations, beautiful music, and watch funny videos sent by loved ones to distract me. The staff at the clinic is wonderful, kind and welcoming. However, one day before I could get the headphones on, my Nurse du Jour — one I hadn’t had before — began talking about herself and would not let me wedge in a single word. I tried several times, in the hopes of getting her to stop, and she plowed right over me each time. She had a glazed look in her eyes, as if talking to herself, and I couldn’t crack the facade. To make matters worse, she told several unhappy stories about her mother’s cats which, as I am an animal rescuer, caused my mood to sink. And this while pushing poison into my veins! Now I know that next time I see this coming, I’ll pleasantly mention that if you don’t mind, I’m listening to a meditation and would like to continue.
Most of us want, and desperately need, to confirm and assert our individuality, relevance and importance in the critical mass of our enormous population. This is, of course, why social media is so crucial to many, despite the tendency we may have to present misleading, sugar-coated versions of our lives on Facebook. And then there’s the added narcissism of social media, which surely contributes to the disease of talking non-stop about ourselves, down to the minutia of, This is what I’m eating for dinner! Surely you must be fascinated!
The compulsion to fill any silence comes from anxiety and habit, I feel. The anxious concern is that if you stop talking, either someone will leap in and say something that makes you feel inadequate, or leap in and take over the talking. And then what will you do? Slump over — if you’re having dinner in a group, for example — with your face in your spaghetti, and see if anyone notices and asks what’s wrong so you can start talking again?
In recent years, I have learned that sometimes the only way to be included in the conversation — and this from someone animated, outwardly solar and very skilled in conversation — is to just wedge myself in, quickly and briefly, all the while knowing that the talkers will just smile pleasantly in response and then quickly leap back into the story of their own lives. There is, of course, a one-upmanship in all of this. Their story is much more important that ours.
A common symptom of obsessive talking is the need to talk about oneself at length first, before allowing others to talk, or asking others how they are. I don’t know about you, but I never feel like talking about myself after someone else has talked long and tediously. Mostly, I just feel like napping. This me-first approach induces a sort of weariness in me that doesn’t go away until I’ve left the scene and had time to vent.
Which brings us to the talkers who won’t let you get off the phone. They have talked about themselves for the first forty minutes of the phone call, and by the time they ask you about you, you have lost all interest in responding in any way and now give the briefest of summaries of your life and then gently say that you really must go; there’s someone at the door, your dog appears to be having a seizure, the house is on fire, whatever it takes.
But still, you are not allowed off the phone. After your third or fourth attempt you finally succeed and, if you’re me, you vow never to get on the phone with that person again.
I call the most hopelessly, non-listening talkers The Self Absorbies. Will the Self-Absorbies ever change? It’s doubtful. But I have changed. I am no longer an extrovert/introvert. I am only the latter. The effort of having any sort of equinanimus conversation has become too great much of the time. One of my friends recently decribed her new neighbor as, “Friendly, but she doesn’t engage.” I recognized myself in that description. I’m too psychically weary to engage!
As a good listener, I genuinely enjoy not only asking others about themselves, but then actually listening to their responses! Wow! What a concept! However, I have learned that if you open that door, you often find yourself listening to one poor soul after another talk about him/herself for an hour or more, which becomes exhausting and frustrating for you. And so you give up, and turn further inward, spending more time quietly at home with your husband, your dogs and your cat.
There is a great need in our world to find a balance between talking and listening. Relentless talkers, take note : there is a happy medium, which is to ask, listen, and then take your turn at responding. Then begin again. Ask, listen, and then respond. This is the civilized way.
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Sarah Whitten-Grigsby is a doubly-ordained Interfaith Reverend, having graduated from two seminaries; the oldest Interfaith seminary in the world and then one of the newest. She lives in Florida with her husband, dogs and cat. She is Founder and President of ONE MORE DAY Foundation, Inc., which places homeless hospice dogs in loving homes throughout last breath, covering veterinary expenses for each dog’s comfort.
