Open Communication

Communication has been on my mind lately and specifically, people’s fear of it…

By definition communication means to impart/exchange/share information, knowledge, news, feelings and ideas.

Sounds awesome, right?

Well, I’ve always found it to be. And while it may not be all butterflies and roses when it’s about an unpleasant topic or a disagreeable situation, that is when communication is perhaps most important and needed.

And yet, that is precisely when communication tends to fail.

From my experience, many people tend to fear communication and I’ve always wondered why. Now, I admit I’m one who likes to be straight-forward and I’m quick to put things right on the table, and I understand people don’t have to be just like me and communicate about whatever’s on their mind but, I wonder what is so scary about exchanging thoughts and discussing things? If it’s that passions will fly off the handle, leading to arguments, then simply have a moderator! I don’t know about you, but I see lack of communication all around.

As I was reading over politics, an answer stared me in the face. Anyone who follows the American government knows that they could all use a course on how to communicate. From sliding things into bills under the rug to shutting down discourse at the drop of a hat, politicians are well-versed in ways to get around communicating. And as I was thinking about all this, it hit me.

Communication is feared when truth is not on one’s side.

Think about it. If you believe in what you say and do, communicating will be no problem. Truth is on your side and acts as your guide. But if truth is not on your side, say you’re trying to hide or control something, communication is precisely what you would fear and try to stop from happening or at the very least, tailor it to keep a closed communication system in place.

Politicians love to make deals behind close doors even though those deals, in theory, should be done on the citizen’s behalf. Rather than talk about an issue, most try to send out bullet points so they can control the conversation. And God help any group who tries to make their voice heard outside of the two main parties. They will be shut down so quickly, they won’t even have time to blink. (Did you see what happened when the Libertarians and Green party wanted to participate in the debates?? Disgusting…)

“The single biggest problem in communication is the illusion that it has taken place.” – George Bernard Shaw

I agree with you, Shaw, and I’d like to add the second biggest problem is the fear of it.

Certainty

I did something for the first time recently. Something I’ve never wanted to do. Something I’ve always preferred doing myself rather than paying someone to do. Something that most people I know, both guys AND girls, have already done for the first time quite a while ago. Something I REALLY didn’t want to do but… circumstances put it in my lap. And so, I did it.

I got a professional manicure.

Before you roll your eyes, please understand that I don’t like being touched by strangers. And I really don’t like having my hands touched by anyone (except my boyfriend and family.) I’m quite particular about certain things, some would say including myself, and this is on the top of my list. Not far from the number one slot actually. But when this manicure-thing just kinda presented itself, I thought, “Hell, I should try it at least once.” If nothing more, I’d be doing something I feared and isn’t it always good to push oneself with that stuff?

So here’s the long story short: To celebrate Valentine’s day with my boyfriend, I decided to buy this Groupon thing for a massage/spa package for two. It was exactly what I was looking for at the price I wanted to spend. But there was also something included in this package that I could care less about.

Manicures.

They would already be paid for and were to be done after the massage/sauna/champagne spa-time. My boyfriend was happy at the thought of getting his nails cleaned so I figured now would be the time to give it a shot.

The moment the manicure started, I felt myself tightening up. My manicurist, who was male by-the-way, immediately went to work by holding my hands and buffing away. My boyfriend looked at me and smiled but I couldn’t really muster a good one up at that point. I already wanted it to be over.

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But I stuck through it and tried desperately not to cringe every second.

At the end, I asked the manicurist, “What’s that?” and pointed to a little dark spot on the nail polish near my cuticle. “Just a little blood. Sorry,” he said nonchalantly. Oh, thanks. Just a little blood stuck in the nail polish on my fingers.

Then I smudged two of my fingers before even making it back to my car.

But I tried it. At least once.

Though never again.

And now I can say that with 100% certainty.