How many people do you talk to on a weekday morning? Ten? Twenty? On a typical day, my number is 1.5. That’s one and a half, not fifteen. And you’d think the half is my parrot, Piper, when it’s really my husband, who is not much for chitchat before he leaves for work.
When I was on-site at corporate meetings it was nothing to greet at least a hundred people before 8 a.m. as I kept a watchful eye over breakfast and answered any number of questions from the attendees. When in the office, I would meet someone in the parking lot (oh, how I miss driving), then pass people in the halls, the phone would start ringing, there’d be a meeting, lunch. My work days were nothing but talking to people.
Now is such a different life. I talk to and play with Piper but I don’t speak with other humans until the mister comes home. I text with several girlfriends all day but they are silent conversations despite a lot of LOLing. It is a strange existence and yet it has become the norm. I don’t even think about it until I see the neighbor or the mailperson, or make an actual call as opposed to sending an email. It’s then that it hits me that my social self leads a solitary life.
If you are bombarded all day by people wanting to talk to you, you probably are thinking this sounds like heaven. And as a temporary situation it would be a nice break from the constant talkathon. But after a while, it would become hell. To not hear your own voice for hours is unnatural for most and for me it is the opposite of who I am. I know how I got here but sometimes I wonder, how did I get here?The bigger question, though, is how did I learn to live this quiet life? The immediate reason is always survival but the process of adapting is a fascinating mystery to me: how it happens without us even realizing it. What I do know is that I am immensely grateful for it.
One day, from the moment you wake up, keep a count of how many people you talk to that morning and afternoon. I bet you will be surprised by the amount. It’s one of so many things that takes place every single day of your life that you aren’t even conscious of. Until it’s gone. Then you’re so aware there should be a new word for aware. But in my experience, aware becomes adapt, and you spend your days without conversation. It really is okay, though. After all, talking is overrated. Writing is where it’s at. LOL
Seriously speaking, I can reach infinitely more people with this website than I ever could through one-on-one talking. No, I don’t know how we adapt. But sometimes it makes perfect sense why.
