The price of listening

One of the skills I developed as a journalist is listening. Not hearing... listening. I can say a mouthful, but make it a point to be all ears when the person being interviewed is speaking.

And because I listen, asking follow-up questions comes easily. It takes discipline to pay attention to what another person is saying. At the same time, one must be aware of tone, gestures, facial expression, and other body language to have a better grasp of the subject and what they're trying to communicate.

Looking back, my listening skills came quite early, probably as a tween. My young friends then would just sit beside me and talk, not just about mundane, childish things but speak of their thoughts, share secrets, dreams and even fears.

In high school, while I didn't develop close friendships, several of my schoolmates would also pull me aside to talk and even seek advice. I am grateful to have been blessed with this gift of being able to serve as sounding board and advisor even when my life experiences then were limited.

This went on until college, although I was listening to mostly adults not fellow students by this time. When I worked part-time in Ermita while finishing my course I was mostly surrounded by people a decade or so older than myself, yet they found it easy enough to confide in me.

My life's purpose

And so it must be a life-long purpose and working as an interviewer and writer only helped to enhance this skill.

It's all well and good to be a shoulder to cry on, a sounding board, a counselor. It feels good to have helped someone, even if it's only to hear them out.

Even now, with technology enabling connections with people we don't really know or see, I still find myself "listening" (via chat or calls) and dispensing bits of advice here and there to virtual acquaintances and friends.

But lately, with the pandemic resulting in lockdowns and restricted movement, I've found myself being weighed down by all the listening and counseling I've had to dispense.

Taking a toll

It's dawned on me that I'm a sensitive person and all this listening is taking its toll on me.

I absorb everything I hear. And because I am sensitive, I feel everything, and think about things I shouldn't even be thinking of! But since I've heard them or had no option but to listen or read (when it's via chat), it gets to me.

When I'm listening to someone venting or ranting, I can feel anger well up inside me. When a person tells me a sob story, I want to cry with them but know I should not.

I get frustrated, disappointed, incensed, and depressed along with the person who's using me as a sounding board. And when you're at it for an hour or two, it can be very exhausting.

All talked out

Last March my dear friend who's in America called me asking if we could talk. She was depressed, having contracted COVID last year, and after recovering has gone back to working as a nurse aid, and being assigned to the hospital's COVID ward.

How can I not give her time? It was 10:30 P.M when we started to talk. We finally finished at close to 1 A.M.

My ears were all talked out. Half the time, I wanted to scream when she was relating her fears and missteps and things she was screwing up but didn't know how to stop.

I'd put in a word or sentence or two, nod in agreement, chuckle when appropriate and give my two-cents worth. I think in the end, she felt much better for having brought out everything inside her chest, but there I was picking up all the negative vibe she spewed out.

The price of...

Let me make this clear - I want to help people, and be there for them, and uplift their spirit. And I'd like to think I have managed to do that quite successfully. But at a price.

So while dealing with my own mental state due to this protracted quarantine and incompetent handling by government of the pandemic, I also have to get a handle on everything else I absorb from other people.

As much as I want to shut people out, I can't. I know I was built to listen. And there's this inner voice that keeps telling me to answer, to be available, to counsel, to share even with people I've never met. And thankfully, I have been guided with what to say, and when to say it.

So, much like when I faced my darkest hours, I turn to God asking to be illuminated, to be clarified, to be worthy of speaking my counsel.

I swear if I didn't cling to Him and turned to prayer, I would be no good for anyone. And that would be the saddest day of my life.

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